#groceries are fucking expensive and i was being nice

[thefirstvessel]

Love getting lectured by my stepfather about the kitchen after I share some of what I was cooking with them. 😑

I already tend to avoid using the kitchen bc of how cluttered and messy Mom tends to leave it... and now I feel like I'm getting punished for offering y'all some of my cooking.

[ghostprinceiii]

As soon as I get home I am never leaving my house again.

[cosmocove]

its so cool how lucky i am

[kleftiko]

❦ CAN’T GIVE IT TO ME

“your best friend has always been the person you turn to when times are tough. so when your shitty husband refuses to give you a baby, what else are you supposed to do?”

cw: infidelity, unprotected sex, cream pie, breeding kink, pussy eating, squirting

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

It was never a surprise when you made a stupid decision.

Sometimes, people thought you were purposely being an airhead, not paying attention, or being reckless in your life because Satoru was always there to fix things for you. It didn't stop him from letting you know his thoughts on your actions, but he was always there when you called.

When you married your husband, Satoru told you he didn't like him. Didn't think you married for a good reason, either.

Did you love your husband? Maybe. Maybe not. But you liked the freedom he gave you—credit cards and a house to yourself most days—while he was constantly away on business trips. You could spend your days spoiling your girlfriends on a shopping spree and your nights in expensive clubs.

You don't know when you began feeling lonely and bored, though. But one day, you started noticing mothers with their kids. playing in the park, shopping at the grocery store, and taking photos on vacation, and you began to think that maybe you wanted something else in life besides waking up hungover to an empty bed.

So when your husband got home that evening, tired and immediately pouring himself a drink, you proposed the idea. The look he gave you said it all, but he still told you no. He was a busy man; he didn't have time for a family, and you should know that.

It's not like he ever fucked you anyway; for most of your marriage, your orgasms and libido were taken care of by vibrators, dildos, and your best friend.

Which is why when your husband left the next day, you called over Satoru.

He never had to try to look good, showing up with a plain shirt, sweatpants, and those signature glasses. You, on the other hand, changed three times before he arrived, not being able to decide which outfit was going to help you get what you wanted. The formal dress was too much for daytime, the skirt was a bit too juvenile, and eventually you just decided on shorts and a tank top, loungewear that to anyone else would look like you were just having a day in, but the way the short fabric loosely covered your ass told a different story.

Satoru accepted the glass of red wine you offered when he walked in the door and took a seat at the kitchen table, spreading his legs casually as he took a sip.

"I want a baby." You told him straight up.

Satoru smiled as he looked at you over his glasses and said, "Nice. Congrats."

"With you," you clarified. He raised an eyebrow.

"Seems like something you should ask your husband," he said, nimble fingers playing with the neck of his wine. "I'm just here for the drinks."

You pouted, taking a seat in the chair beside him.

"Please, 'Toru?" you asked.

His eyes drifted down to your fingers as they trailed lightly over his thigh, knowing exactly what you were trying to do.

"And why would I help you?" He smiled lazily.

You got up and straddled his lap, setting down his glass of wine in favour of moving his arms around your body.

"You've helped me before." You whisper, and he nods casually, as if that was a good point.

You couldn't count the number of times Satoru let you use his fingers or sit on his face when you were needy. Or how many times you repaid him with your lips around his dick or riding his thigh. But no matter how many times he made you cum, he never gave in to your pleas to stretch your pussy on his thick cock. He refused to, as long as you were married. Was it right? Probably not, but Satoru had his rules.

And you've never minded the mind-numbing pleasure he would give you with his hands and mouth until now. Because now, what you wanted required something else of his that was previously off limits.

"I've helped you a lot of times, sweetheart." He sighed in defeat. "And you always ask for more."

You were confused, not understanding the meaning of his words until his fingers slid between your legs. With a soft gasp, you instinctively start grinding yourself onto his palm, forgetting what he was saying.

"I'm at your beck and call when you need my fingers or tongue," he said, letting you continue your ministrations. "And now you're asking me to fill your cunt and expect me to be okay with our kid calling your husband 'dad'?"

With a harsh press to your clit, you freeze, and a small whine escapes from your lips.

"You think that's fair, sweetheart?" He asked, eyeing you with contempt.

But instead of answering, you try to move your hips against his hand again for friction, only to get a harsh pinch to your thigh.

You yelped, but answered him. "No, it's not."

He seemed happy with your response and said, "What's in it for me?"

You furrowed your brows. In all the years you've known Satoru, he had never asked for anything in return; he always gives, gives, gives. There honestly wasn't any answer you could come up with. But when his long fingers started circling your heat again, making you melt, you asked.

"What do you want, 'Toru?"

He grinned at how easy you were and let you rest your head on his shoulder in response to his fingers. "Say you'll leave your husband, and I'll fill you up as much as you want."

You whined in response, but with your body rocking against his, breathing in his cologne, and hearing his husky voice in your ears, it didn't seem like a bad idea. So you nodded, light gasps dusting over his neck as you breathed out, "Okay."

Satoru's strong hands then left your pussy, but you didn't have a chance to complain when he grabbed the back of your thighs and stood up. When your head leaned back to look at him, you saw a dangerous look in his eyes.

"Good girl." His voice was low as he said, "Let's make you a mommy."

With that, he dropped you onto the table, the wine glasses shaking beside you as a result. Satoru dropped to his knees between your spread legs and reached for your shorts. Already wet with your slick, they stuck to your heat slightly as he slid them off, and you hissed at the feeling of the cool kitchen air against your pussy.

His breath grazed your thigh as he licked a harsh strip up your slit. Your body trembled as his tongue traced its way up, sending shivers of anticipation through your entire being. The dangerous look in his eyes intensified, fueling your desire for him. You couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself fully to his skilled touch. As his tongue continued its tantalizing journey, your moans grew louder, matching the rhythm of his movements. The intensity of him led you to grasp at his soft silver hair in an attempt to ground yourself, but he smacked your hand away.

"You're gonna feel everything I give you." His sunglasses were discarded, so you saw every emotion in his darkened eyes. "And you're gonna take it."

After you nodded quickly, Satoru wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt against his tongue as he devoured you. His careful mouth probed every inch of your sensitive folds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The way he smoothly flicked and sucked on your clit had you on the edge of ecstasy, unable to control the moans that escaped your lips. As his tongue delved deeper, you surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensations, losing yourself in the intoxicating bliss he was giving you.

In an attempt to warn him, you could only stutter out an, "g-g'nna."

But Satoru seemed to understand as his lips attached themselves to your bud, and one of his arms freed your legs so he could thrust his fingers inside your sloppy cunt. The combination of his skilled tongue and the added penetration sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each thrust of his fingers matched the rhythm of his tongue, intensifying the pleasure and pushing you closer to the edge. As you reached the peak of ecstasy, your body convulsed uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the mind-blowing sensations he was delivering. You briefly understood your legs spamming as you painted Satoru's mouth with your cum.

It took a moment for you to calm down, your eyes opening to look at the ceiling as you realized your back was on the table. Unable to remember when you had laid down, let alone move your body on your own, Satoru pulled you to stand on your jelly legs.

His eyes held your gaze as he wiped his face and licked his lips clear of your cum. Before you could say anything, he gripped your hips, his wet hands sending shivers up your hot skin as he turned you around and pushed your stomach onto the table.

You looked over your shoulder at your best friend; his head was tilted back, eyes closed as he hissed in pleasure, the hand covered in your slick stroking his hard cock. The reminder of the fact that his dick was finally going to be inside you made you whine and wiggle your hips to gain his attention again.

Satoru looked down at you with a smile.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm right here." He lined himself up with your hole. "I'll fuck a baby into you," he whispered before slowly pushing himself inside you.

The sensation of him filling you up sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you moan and bend your back in response.

"T-'Toru..." You drawled, unable to think of anything else, as he stretched you open.

"That's it, baby, remember who's gonna breed this cunt for you." He hissed.

Your mind became consumed with the overwhelming pleasure as Satoru continued to thrust deeper into you. Every movement he made intensified the sensations, leaving you completely lost in the moment. The sounds of his grunts harmonizing with skin slapping against skin filled the room, adding to the urgency of the experience.

Your eyes locked on one of the wine glasses beside you. The table rocking with Satoru's harsh thrusts caused the silverware to fall over, staining the beautiful tablecloth beneath your face. You don't know why, but the physical reminder of how hard Satoru was going inside you made you moan. The combination of the sensory overload and the unexpected disruption heightened the raw passion between you and Satoru. As your moans echoed in the room, you realized that every element of this encounter was pushing you both towards an adrenaline-filled climax.

"Sa-Satoru—please!" You babbled incoherently as he slapped against you, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips.

"Fuck!" He groaned. "You're gonna look so hot pregnant with my baby."

Your pleas only fueled Satoru's desire, intensifying his thrusts as he whispered dirty promises about knocking you up in your ear. The intense connection between you both grew, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. With each moment, it became clear that this intimate encounter would forever be etched in not only your memory but also your life. And it turned you on so much more.

"You gonna great your husband today with your pussy filled with my cum?" You whined at his dirty talk. "S'it gonna drip down your legs when you tell him it's over?"

You don't know why, but the reminder of the fact that Satoru wasn't your husband was what did it for you. You came to the realization that it wasn't your husband fucking a baby into you, but your best friend. This forbidden affair intensified the pleasure and excitement coursing through your veins, causing you to clench impossibly tighter around Satoru's cock.

He groaned loudly at that, folding his body over yours as he reached his own orgasm.

"You're all mine now, sweetheart." He whispered into your ear as his cum shot into your cunt, filling you up better than you could've hoped for. The intensity of the moment left you breathless as you lay there, sweat clinging to your forehead as the scent of wine and sex filled your senses. You whimpered pathetically when Satoru slipped out of you and crouched down to watch the globs of his cum drip out of your pussy with each clench around nothing. Your trembling legs couldn't stop him when he scooped up the slick and pushed it back into you with a dissatisfied hum.

"Don't think it stuck, sweetheart." He sighed. "Might need to fill you again."

[thedisablednaturalist]

Literally all the shit rich people have turned into luxuries are stuff many disabled people need (or would need to manage their pain but can't afford it)

Comfy ergonomic chairs

Indoor pool/hot tub (therapy bath)

Massages on the regular

Aides (rich people call them servants)

Yea even a cook who makes you special meals (perfect for people with special dietary needs and for those with severe allergies, as well as people who are in too much pain or are otherwise unable to cook)

Elevators in your house (even small ones just for groceries, my rich aunt has one in her beach house!)

Rich people don't buy these for fun I hope but custom powerchairs are obscenely expensive. It pisses me off when I see another person invent "the wheelchair of the future!" Which then is literally never fucking used because none of us can afford it (and insurance definitely won't pay)

Indoor gyms or even personal exercise equipment. Hard to go out to a gym somewhere else when you're disabled, especially if you are immunocompromised

Outdoor spaces to relax in. It's literally vital for your mental health to at least see the outdoors. I'd rather be bedridden in a sunroom (with retractable blinds) than a shitty apartment with one tiny window.

There's even freaking health retreats these people go to regularly. There's a fibromyalgia retreat in new york where they basically take care of all your needs while trying different treatments and seeing which ones help. Either it's heaven or making money off of scamming desperate people who are able to scrape the money together to go.

Private planes, which I honestly think shouldn't exist, but one that specifically catered to people with disabilities (spaces for wheelchairs/other mobility devices, accessible handicapped airplane bathroom, anxiety reducing tools, trained medical personnel and care team)

Also customized cars, except instead of making gas guzzling racecars to joyride in while everyone else is trying to get to work, cars with electric ramps, lifts, doors, cars customized for someone with limb differences. Those cars where you can roll your wheelchair right up to the wheel. Fuck even self driving cars once they are no longer deathtraps.

Skincare products that are safe for sensitive skin like eczema but also actually work

Nice-looking clothes customized to fit limb differences, access points, look good in wheelchairs, colostomy bags, etc. while also being comfortable and not fast fashion.

Dental care!!! What the fuck why is this shit so expensive!! I don't want my teeth to fall out!! (Disabled people usually need more dental care bc we have a harder time keeping up maintenance)

Rich people go and splurge on all of these even though they don't need them while calling disabled people selfish for begging their insurance for even one of these.

[asteroshearts]

My Type

Oh no! Nanami's wife is just Itadori's type!

Or the story of how, upon meeting Nanami's wife, Itadori just can't take his eyes off her.

Nanami x Reader

Tags: this story was referenced here, but can be read completely alone, she/her pronouns, discussions of body types, Itadori's a bit of a pervert here (but he doesn't actually see anything!! Nanami, however, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)), typical anime flashing

Hey Ken: How are you feeling?

You: Like shit My fever got worse after you left

Hey Ken: I'll be home soon. Please take ibuprofen, drink lots of water, and rest as much as you can. I'm finishing up now.

You: I just checked our cabinet We ran out of Bufferin UGHHHH I feel terrible I fucking told Daiki from accounting that he should go home if he was coughing but he said it was fine AND COUGHED IN MY FACE And now look at me

Hey Ken: We're out? I'll pick some up on my way home while I grab our other groceries. Please wait for me until then. Take a nap if you can. You're just going to get more exhausted thinking of the idiots in your office.

You: I looked online, delivery is going to take over an hour I'm getting dizzier I don't want to wait I'm going to go to the Matsukiyo near us to get it myself

Hey Ken: What?

Hey Ken: Don't go. I'll pick it up.

Hey Ken: Darling. Read my messages.

Hey Ken: Pick up the phone.

(10) Missed Calls

Several moments ago…

Itadori already thought that today got off to a weird start.

To begin with, it wasn't Ijichi in the driver's seat to pick him up today, but Nanamin. It also wasn't the Jujutsu Tech standard vehicle, but a nice, sleek, and expensive Porsche.

"W-Woah! Nanamin!" Itadori called then. Eyes wide and bright at the polished paint that glistened in the heavy sunlight. "Nice ride!" he said giddily, running his fingers across the aerodynamic doors. Popping his head up toward Nanami's window, he said, "This must've cost you a fortune!" And he thought that Gojo-sensei spent crazily.

"It was a gift," Nanami flatly said. The boy gaped at him like a fish. But who would just give away a car like this? They had to be really close — or maybe he had saved some rich guy and he thanked Nanamin by giving him a brand new car! The boy's eyes shone. Maybe one day he could get a nice gift like — "Get in." The doors unlocked.

"Hiya, Ijichi-san! Must be nice not driving for once, huh?" While marveling at the car's clean interior, he hopped into the back seat, feeling the leather under his hands and the cool blast of the AC hit his sweaty hair after being in the summer sun.

"Good morning, Itadori-kun," the dark-haired man said with a nervous smile. The car rumbled beneath them as Nanami turned the engine back on. "Nanami-san is surely giving me a nice change of pace — "

"Our duties will not change," Nanami stated, turning the wheel. "Ijichi-san is still required to do his job, as well as you, Itadori-kun. Don't get distracted." The pink-haired boy pouted in the backseat. "It just so happens that I have urgent errands to run after this, so time is of the essence."

Turning into an alleyway, Nanami smoothly hit the brakes and put the car into park. "Let's go."

Luckily for him, the curse was a low-level one mostly used for teaching Itadori the ropes, and the two of them managed to exorcise it in record time. For someone who was just thrust into the world of curses several weeks ago, he was doing well. As well as anyone could in his situation.

The boy was still a bumbling newbie, but he had a good head on his shoulders and was a strong opponent for most curses that they dealt with on a daily basis. Lips twitching into a frown, the blond thought that if Gojo didn't poison the youth's mind, surely Yuji would continue having a nice and mature head on his shoulders.

Nanami had to drop Ijichi off at his next assignment, but other than that, all he needed was to drop Itadori off at the college and then he could return to his sick wife. Paperwork still needed to be done, but luckily he could finish that at a later time. Unfortunately, last night you had a major headache and showed signs of an upcoming sickness this morning.

He had just barely convinced you to not do remote work and just take the day off to rest instead. However, as he checked on his messages with you, he found out that you were insisting on double — no, triple mask to go to the pharmacy yourself. All while you had a 37.5-degree fever.

He tried to call you once, thrice, and all of them were left for voicemail.

Cursing inwardly, Nanami leaned his head back on the headrest. Normally, the blond man was the arbiter of restraint and level-headed thinking, but all of that went out the door at the mere thought of his sickly wife dragging herself out in the street to get some medication. Why did you have to be so stubborn?

"My apologies, Itadori-kun." Nanami pushed up his glasses. "I need to take a detour before I drop you off at your dorm. I apologize for the inconvenience."

The boy blinked owlishly. "Oh that's alri — GH!"

Without another word, Nanami quickly turned left, jolting the teen to the side from the momentum, increasing the speed of his vehicle, and raced down the streets.

Within five minutes, Itadori felt like a dog left in the car as his "owner" raced into the nearest grocery store to grab medication, vegetables, and grains for the upcoming, proverbial storm. Even as the cashier tried their hardest to ignore the intense stare of the tall blond man before them, every second that ticked by as they scanned his purchase felt like hours.

As soon as he nearly threw his money on the tray and took all of the grocery bags under his toned arms, Nanami was off again, shifting into drive and ignoring the speed limit all the way back home.

Nanami could've nearly run into his apartment's chain-link garage doors if it had lifted any slower, allowing him access to his own underground parking before he landed in his designated parking spot within three seconds.

Racing out the car, he took all of the grocery bags over one muscular arm and was prepared to run off until he remembered he had a teen in the backseat.

"Itadori-kun," he said hurriedly. "Can you — " The man stopped himself short.

He originally planned to tell the boy to wait for him in the car, but caught sight of the boy's skin gleaming with sweat, reflecting one of the garage's low lights. Summer was brutal right now, with insane humidity that made Itadori's hair damp as if he had just taken a dunk in water. Even though the parking garage was cooler than it was outside, it was still unbearably hot, not to mention cruel, if he had forced the teen to just sit here and deal with it. Itadori had already waited in the hot car when he went out to grab groceries, and although he rolled the windows down, suddenly Nanami remembered all of the articles of puppies and toddlers dying in the back of cars during the summer.

Sighing, the man pushed his glasses up. "Behave yourself. Come with me."

"Ken?" Eyes wide, you held the door open. Keys were lifted up in the air in the man's hands, but you had beat him to the chase and opened the door before he managed to get the key in the keyhole. "Oh! I didn't know that you were bringing a guest." Stepping back quickly, you realized another person was standing behind your husband. "If I had known, I would've worn a surgeon mask!" Alert, you said. "Hold on, I'll go grab one right now — !"

"No need. We'll make this fast." He was about to take a step forward, but then realized that the student hadn't moved an inch ever since you opened the door. "Itadori-kun?"

As still as a statue, pink slowly rose from the boy's neck all the way up to the tips of his ears. He couldn't rip his gaze from you for even a second. Although your hair wasn't done and your face was covered, he could tell just how beautiful you were.

Furthermore, you looked just like the pin-up models he had in his room — you were just his type! Your little chemise barely ended at the middle of your thigh, and although everything important was covered up, it left little to the imagination with how the fabric hugged your waist and hips. As you held the door open for them and leaned forward, the loose triangle top of your nightgown was teasing him with the exposed curves and valleys of your chest.

You were too hot!

"Itadori-kun," Nanami repeated, irritated.

Way too hot for Nanamin!

"Nanamin! You didn't tell me that you were married!" Eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets, Itadori almost thought they had gotten the wrong apartment when you had just opened the door. While his mentor was an attractive man, it was like a mountain and a molehill to the teenager. Not to mention that this strict and serious ex-salaryman was hitched! To a babe no less!

Certainly, you didn't marry for personality!

He couldn't imagine what your daily life was like while Nanamin talked about doing the bare minimum and never smiled.

Raising an eyebrow, Nanami followed Itadori's stare to your state of dress. You weren't even wearing your indoor slippers, and you were absolutely breathtaking even if you had a dark clay mask over your face. He wasn't an idiot, and he could feel his blood vessels pumping harshly. Trying to remind himself with mantras of how Itadori was just a stupid, hormonal teenager, and you could dress how you wanted, and that he especially couldn't beat up Itadori. Pinching his nose bridge, the man couldn't even look at the boy. "My personal life and my work life are completely separate. I wouldn't anno — !"

"But you don't even wear a wedding ring!" Itadori insisted.

"Why would I wear my rings when my daily job involves fighting and getting messy?" Nanami rhetorically asked, stepping through your door with all the groceries in one go. "Wedding and engagement rings are investments, and I'd be damned if I lose my rings and be forced to inflate the wedding ring industry any more than I already have."

Grinning, you beamed at Itadori. Only you really know how seriously Nanami took the "three month's salary on rings" tradition, especially on his sorcerer's salary. "Now you know, Itadori-kun! If you catch him committing adultery while he's out without his ring, you'll shank him for me, right?" Placing both of your hands on your husband's waist, you laughed when you playfully tried to shake him. Of course, that didn't do much. Your man continued to stand there like a stone statue, as if you tried to rock a brick wall while he remained wholly unamused.

From your weak roughhousing, all that managed to do was drop your spaghetti strap from your shoulder. With your dress threatening to slip, Nanami sighed and quickly stood in front of you, blocking your body from Itadori's gaze. He carefully and slowly pulled your shoulder strap back up your body before you managed to flash the poor teen. When you looked up, his brown eyes met with yours.

Gently rubbing your bare shoulder with his large hand, he asked, "I thought you said you were going to Matsukiyo?"

"I was," you rasped out, voice raw from all the coughing you did. "But then I took one step outside and it was too damn hot." Laughing weakly, you said, "I slunk back like a vampire the second the humidity hit me."

The man sighed deeply, and his shoulders dropped in relief and exhaustion. While he ran around like a chicken with its head cut off from worry, he was glad that you ended up not going out after all.

"Why didn't you pick up my calls?" he said deeply, leaning in close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear.

"I was making okayu with kombu," you explained. "Sorry," you said genuinely, "that's all I managed to make for our dinner today."

"I'm upset that you cooked in the first place," Nanami scolded. "You should be resting. I said I'd take care of it. Why were you in the kitchen when the hot fumes could make your fever even worse?" Turning away from his nagging, you pouted.

"I'm hungry though…" you mumbled, far too much like a spoiled child, and Nanami was sure, in some way, that you were spoiled, of his making too. He always prioritized you and let you have your way. "And I already ate the miyeok guk you made."

"You could've ordered delivery," the man countered.

"Nothing interested me there."

Inhaling deeply once more, Nanami tried to calm the upcoming headache he felt. There was no point in arguing with you, not when you were coughing and sick like this. "Stay here. I'm going to whip up a bowl of okayu to have with your medicine," the man ordered before he picked up a blanket you had draped over one of your couches and wrapped you in it like a burrito. When you opened your mouth, your husband only sternly repeated, "Stay."

Playfully rolling your eyes when he left to go to the kitchen, you puffed out your cheeks in mock irritation. Closing the door to your apartment so the AC couldn't escape anymore, you turned to the teen who was standing awkwardly in your home.

"Aw I'm sorry," you said, voice sounding like sandpaper again. "You know, Kento's kinda strict, but I assure you he's a good man," you said gently. "Thank you so much for taking care of him."

"M-Me?" Itadori sputtered. "I'm not the one taking care of him! He takes care of me! Um…" The boy grew demure when he realized he had no way to address you.

"Oh," you realized you didn't introduce yourself. "I apologize! I totally forgot! I know you since Ken talks about you and Ino all the time, but I didn't realize you didn't know me!"

Itadori gasped. "He talks about me?!"

"Of course! All good things!" you assured. "Even though Kento seems like a meanie, he's a genuine person and wouldn't exaggerate, so he wouldn't praise you unless he absolutely meant it." You knew that this was the teen that hosted Sukuna, the King of Curses. It was a heavy burden for someone who wasn't even an adult yet, and your heart grew heavy at the thought of this boy's fate.

"Before I forget…" Quickly, you ran to your bathroom and cleaned off your clay face mask before you returned with your bare face wet and a cloth Pompompurin headband keeping your hair out of the way. "I need to introduce myself."

Now Itadori was sure that you two were married with the way you introduced yourself nearly identically to your husband. With your back straight and shoulders squared, hands flat, and arms straight at your side, you closed your eyes and bowed.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Itadori-kun." You acquired your business card out of thin air and held it out for the boy. "My name is Nanami [Name], and I'm a senior project manager at Yurukawa Corp. If you or your friends ever get tired of exorcising curses and want to look into engineering, you can ask me!"

Huh?

It was too silent.

When you rose and looked up, you realized that your husband had suddenly materialized out of nowhere. Standing in between you and Itadori, your husband's stern expression could freeze hell over as he stared down at Itadori with a frown, arm outstretched and his hand held up — right where Itadori's eyes would've seen your cleavage when you bent over to bow.

"Itadori-kun."

"Y-Yes!"

"We are going. Now."

The car was completely silent the entire way to the dorm rooms. Quickly shifting the car into park, Itadori jumped at the sudden stop.

No one said a word. The entire ride felt like the air was heavy enough to drown in.

"Itadori-kun." Nanami's eyes were hidden by the reflection in his glasses.

"…Yes?" the boy squeaked out, pressing his index fingers together.

"Never ogle my wife again."

[luveline]

could you maybe write struggling single dad!eddie? ily!!! 😘

love you! hope this is okay :D I did girl dad!eddie because ♡ fem!reader

Juggling car keys, a brown paper bag of groceries and a toddler that refuses to be put down today is not easy. And she's not always like this, Roan's usually a sweet (if quiet) girl who makes Eddie's life as easy as she can. A blessing, he thanks God or whoever for her everyday, but lately she's been clingy as climbing ivy.

"Babe," he says, stress seeping into the pet name and making it more chiding than he means, "could you relax?"

She glares at him. She's a mirror.

"You're being so mean to daddy today, you know that?"

She ignores him, small hands in the collar of his last nice work shirt and pulling. He can't stop her from stretching it out, doesn't have a hand free to pull her away and the shitty cruiser he swapped his beloved van for is still locked up tight.

"Baby, stop!" he scolds.

She looks like she might have a tantrum if she could. Roan pulls her hands away but starts to grizzle, a sniffle that turns loud that turns to full blown tears. He can't tell if they're crocodile tears or not. He feels awful anyhow.

Roan brings a hand up to slap his shoulder. Her fingers get caught in the fabric of his collar and she tugs to get free, jabbing herself in the eye with the back of her hand.

Her resulting cry is awful. Real, heart-hurting, Eddie forgets to be mad and starts shushing her gently. He presses his back sweaty with exertion against the cold window of the back seat door and pulls her in as close as he can.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he says softly.

She shrieks and hits the grocery bag. It topples. The groceries go everywhere. An orange rolls into the parking lot.

"Roan," he complains, defeated.

Patience, he thinks to himself desperately. Patience. She doesn't mean to.

He can't afford stuff like this. The time it takes to do simple things like get groceries feels expensive enough — he could be pressing Roan's clothes right now, or swapping out that cracked neck on the black Gibson so he can finally get paid for it, or fuck, he could be smoking a goddamn cigarette.

He sets her down. She screams bloody murder but he doesn't have a choice. He has to chase down the dispersed groceries desperately, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

Being a parent has made him hyper aware of other people's judgmental looks. He can feel eyes now on the top of his head and Eddie knows it's that cruel looking blonde woman from the cold cuts aisle who'd tried to lecture him on processed ham.

He picks his head up, words already rehearsed in his head. Lady, if you don't leave me alone I swear to fuck I'm gonna feed her nothing but TV dinners for the rest of her life. She's gonna be a junk food baby and you'll have no one to blame but yourself.

Only It's not the lady. It's a girl.

You wither under his fierce scowl and offer the two oranges in your hand to him unsurely.

"Sorry," you say, shifting forward a half step. "They rolled my way."

He accepts the oranges without talking, which is rude, so rude, but his heads already decided the order of things before his mouth can catch up. Shove the groceries in the bag. Put the bag on the floor. Pick up his kid. Help her calm down.

He hikes Roan onto his hip, rubs her back, and says, "God, I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."

You visibly relax. Eddie's surprised you didn't turn tail and run.

"Yeah? Do I have a doppelganger?" you ask. You smile in this way that's totally your own, Eddie's never seen someone grin like that before. Maybe a little shy and the shyness is making you awkward, teeth peeking out, you're pretty.

He's shocked at the thought. She's pretty.

Years of womanising (with varying success) kicks in.

"No, God no. She wasn't nearly as pretty as you are, sweetheart."

Roan seems to realise that she's not the object of his whole affection and pulls on his hair. Eddie let's his head yank to the side with a hiss and then a rueful smile. The world skews. You follow his head movement with your own.

"Is that so? I guess you'd know all about pretty," you say, head dipped to your shoulder.

Eddie gets super excited thinking he's actually managed to pull this one off (a fucking impossibility).

You hold your hand out hesitantly and wave. He realises you had not been talking about him.

"You- Oh, yeah. She's lovely, isn't she?"

You beam. "'Lovely,'" you quote. "That's a nice word." Your attention slides to Roan. She basks in it. "Hey, baby. You're just something else, aren't you? You know! You know how pretty you are, don't go shy on me."

Roan goes smiley. Chubby cheeks full of colour, she grins and pulls her dark curls in front of her face. Like father, like daughter.

"What's her name?" you ask.

"Roan. I'm Eddie."

You introduce yourself, bent just slightly to talk directly to Roan. You offer your hand.

When Roan takes it, you shake her tiny hand gently and then rub your thumb over her fingers. "Nice to meet you, princess."

"Hi," she says slowly.

You give her hand a small squeeze and then take a step back, arms moving behind you. "God, she's a pretty baby. And she looks so much like you."

"Yeah?" he asks warmly.

You realise what you've said with a look like you've been struck. After a second, you blink and laugh self-consciously. "Well. It's true."

He's out of the game. He's miles away from the game. But if he doesn't ask you for coffee that's gotta be self sabotage, right? Eddie's trying to find the words when you take a strange breath.

"Listen, I've seen you around and- I know this is weird. Sorry, but you really are- God. Sorry, but do you wanna get coffee? Sometime?" you ask, clunky and awkward.

Eddie's enamoured. He forgets to answer because he can't believe his luck and you take it for something different, adding, "Or not coffee? What does the little lady like?"

He must smile wide enough to split his lip. "Chocolate, mostly."

"Like cake and stuff?"

"Loves it."

You nibble at the inside of your lip as you pull your bag around to your thigh and search inside for a pen. You pull out a leaflet, a Save The Children Pamphlet they pass around outside of the mall and wince as you tear a corner.

He watches you write down your number on the hood of his car. You do it quick, pass it to him quicker.

"You can just call me, let me know when you're free."

"I'm free when you are," he says like a loser. It's not even remotely true. Eddie's never free, but for you he's gonna make it happen.

"How about Thursday?"

Eddie nods. Roan slips down his side and looks between you both like she's watching a tennis match.

"Yeah, Thursday is perfect."

You smile. Eddie takes it all in, everything, your smile and your hair and your clothes and the way your fingers pull at one another. He can't believe you're the nervous one right now. His heart spins like a top in his chest.

"I'm sorry to ask you out and jet, but there's somewhere I gotta be," you say. You sound genuinely apologetic.

"No, of course-"

"But I'll see you on Thrusday. Outside of, um, Morgan's Desserts?"

"Sure, but-"

"Yeah?" you ask.

"I can bring Roan?" he asks.

Your expression softens. "Please. If you don't I'm gonna stand you up."

He laughs abruptly, a shock of it like a firecracker in his chest.

You move like you might leave but then pick up his grocery bag and pass it back it to him. "Bye, princess," you pause to say, looking melted by his daughter's puppy dog eyes, if he does say so himself.

"Bye," she says sweetly.

You nod at him. He nods back.

"Thursday," he calls at your retreating figure. You know, to make sure.

You shoot him a smile over your shoulder.

Roan turns in his hold to stare at his face.

"What?" he asks her.

"Chocolate?" she questions.

"Heard that, did you?" he mutters.

-

more eddie and roan

[yokohamapound]

Hi bestie! Great to find a new BSD blog! For starters, can we have some hcs on what kind of lingerie Dazai, Chuuya, Ranpo, Akutagawa and Fyodor would buy their fem!s/o? ;)

Hey, I hope you enjoy these!

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Edogawa Ranpo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Warnings: NSFW, lingerie

Dazai Osamu

This man is what we like to call an omniwhore. If it's on your body, he's interested in getting it off and getting you off.

Dazai's stated himself that he has quite wide-ranging tastes, so it's highly likely he'll just buy you something you'd feel sexy in, but if he had completely free reign...?

His tastes are pretty classic. He'd probably go for something black, with lace. He likes how it feels, warmed by your skin, against his hands, his tongue...

That being said, you don't need to buy anything expensive to seduce him. You could be lounging around in one of his shirts and a pair of thigh-highs and that would count as lingerie to him.

Dazai is someone who likes seeing his s/o wear his clothes, especially in a dishevelled, just-got-fucked kind of way.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya's favourite colours seem to be black and red, which isn't a surprise coming from anyone in the Port Mafia. Chuuya leans towards an edgy, femme/homme fatale style if he's choosing lingerie for his lover.

Think bustiers, garters, body harnesses, edging into bondage chic, I guess you could say. These are his tastes and you don't have to subscribe to them, but if you do he'll be shoving you into closets, back seats of cars, his personal office, the club bathroom. Pretty much anywhere he can get you alone and start ripping off buttons.

There's a certain part of your body, and anything that brings his attention to it is enough to get Chuuya raring to go.

Thighs.

Stockings are great, but those little harnesses or garters that go around your thigh get him bricked up like an 18th Century window.

If you're feeling cheeky, you can lift up the hem of a skirt or let him see the outline of it under your pants. Man is gripping the edge of the table.

"You're killin' me with these, dollface."

Edogawa Ranpo

You know those candy thongs?

Jokes aside, I feel like Ranpo doesn't buy you straight-up lingerie as much as he occasionally grabs a little costume for you. Straight-up sex is probably kinda boring, even if it feels good, so why not have some fun with roleplay?

You could be a cute little nurse and he's the world's greatest detective.

Or you're a cute little maid, and he's the world's greatest detective!

These aren't cheap costumes, though—he'll get you some nice, high quality stuff and not those itchy, shiny polyester things from Shein.

If he does buy you underwear, it has cute prints and colours. I feel like he likes stripes, pastel ones. Pinks and blues and soft yellows, because it lowkey reminds him of candy wrappers.

However, one time he did just bring you a bag from the grocery store.

"Ranpo, why is there a can of whipped cream?"

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Okay, do not send Akutagawa into a lingerie store because he will panic and he will destroy the store with Rashoumon. At first he will be highly dismissive of buying you underwear—are you not capable of buying it yourself?

Give him time to come around to the idea that he can choose what he sees on your body, the intimate garments that are going to hug your skin under your clothes, for his eyes only. Then he gets it.

Akutagawa's taste definitely runs to dark fabrics: deep burgundies, black, of course, deep purples and emerald greens if he's branching out a bit. Lace and frills, but also a touch of leather and metal. You can't take the Port Mafia out of the boy, after all.

I don't know if this is a Port Mafia-induced kink but he also likes body harnesses. The straps against your skin, especially if they're cinched a little tight against your soft flesh, remind him of when he binds you in Rashoumon and spreads you out underneath him.

This works with normal outfits too, actually. If you wear something floaty with a body harness underneath, and he sees it? Especially when you're out in public or on the job?

There's gonna be a whole different kind of screaming coming from that dark alleyway.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

I'm hardly original in thinking this, but Fyodor would strikes me as the type to lean toward something clean, pure. Angelic, one might say.

White is very common, especially delicate fabrics like lace and silk. Fyodor likes to get his cold hands on you, to feel you shiver at his touch, and the contrast between warm, soft skin and cool, slippery silk pleases him.

The sight of your legs sheathed in pretty white stockings, lace clinging precariously to your upper thighs—that's a temptation he struggles to resist, especially when you sit on his lap. He's a stocking man and will ensure you always have plenty in your drawer.

Little babydoll nightdresses too, usually delicate and translucent.

Oh, and blindfolds.

He also has a lovely collection of pretty silk ropes to tie you up in.

[equizona]

⤷ ROMANTIC HEADCANONS

michael afton || five night's at freddy's

gender-neutral reader

masterlist, navigation

i'm having michael brainrot and I can't when write his name right and also the new tumblr update can go choke on some shoelaces

⤷ MICHAEL AFTON

Michael is the type to get jealous easily. He's insecure, has abandonment issues, is making minimum wage and has a fuck ton of trauma attached to him. He knows he isn't the best boyfriend one could ask for, and that you probably deserve so much more, so seeing you with other people he just knows are better than him? It makes him want to crawl into a hole and cry.

Despite how easily he gets jealous, he doesn't show it very often. He refuses to guilt you into staying with him, or isolate you from having relationships outside of him. His father did that with his mother, and he got front row seats to see how well that turned out for them.

Michael doesn't make a lot of money, so he can't get you expensive gifts or take you out on fancy dates. Instead you both often go on walks, have picnics and watch movies at home. He'll save up for occasional amusement park, circus or whatever else you like for dates, though he tries to save those for special occasions.

He probably stays over at your place quite often. He doesn't like to be alone and he doesn't like the idea that he'll wake up tomorrow and get a call that someone broke in and killed you, or something like that. He stays over where you live often for that reason. He doesn't let you go to his place, either, since he knows the animatronics could easily figure out where he lives if they wanted.

He gets a lot of nightmares, too. He doesn't expect you to comfort him or anything, he knows he can be stressful and doesn't want your sleep being put aside for something as stupid as a bad dream. He doesn't really want you to do so, either, since he feels so guilty. The best thing you can do for him is let him cling to you, hug him back and go back to sleep.

He most certainly has an eating disorder. He forgets to eat and drink most of the time, and majority of the time when he doesn't forget he either thinks it's too much work or too expensive or just not worth the effort. However, if you bring him food or a drink, he'll make sure to consume all of it, no matter how nauseous it makes him. If he ends up vomiting, he might have a breakdown from guilt. Especially if you made it yourself.

On a less angst filled note, Michael is really good at making food. If you have ingredients and don't mind him messing around your kitchen, he will make the most heavenly tasting food you can imagine. Since he doesn't work during the day, he'll make you breakfast when he gets back, alongside lunch for whatever you have to do during the day.

He'll also make you dinner, with him making you m meals a good chunk of the time, it makes there be at least one less thing to stress you out. At least, that's what he's hoping for. If you give him the money, he'll go grocery shopping for you as well! He has all your preferred brands memorized too, so not to worry about that.

His parents didn't teach him very basics things about hygiene or cleaning, so while he isn't really a messy person, he doesn't know how most things work and decides to just leave things where they are. If you teach him to do the dishes, use the laundry machine or a vacuum, and assure him you won't get mad if he does something wrong, he might try doing some of your chores for you.

If he does it right and it makes you happy when he does it, he'll keep doing it. It makes him pretty happy, actually, to be doing it. He remembers his classmates whining about having to do chores with their mothers while he spent most of his day worried he's get yelled at for moving a glass over to the sink from the counter. Most might think it's boring to clean, but he thinks it's nice. And if it makes you happy, and makes your life easier? He's pretty ecstatic to be doing the dishes.

Michael naturally runs really hot. He could be your personal heater easily, and he's very comfortable and warm to hug. Despite how warm he is, he gets cold super easily, so he's always dressing warm and laying under blankets, which just makes Jim run even warmer.

He has a soft spot for children. If he builds a more stable life and routine with you, he'll probably try doing babysitting during the day for some extra money. He's actually really good with kids, too, even if he might seem sort of intimidating at first. He's also able to make all of them eat their vegetables and fruits, so parents adore him as well.

He is weak for matching things. Matching outfits? Keychains? Bracelets? Phone cases? Mugs? Blankets? Shoes? He doesn't care, he just loves the idea of matching with you.

He likes doing arts & crafts. Sometimes the kids make him do it with them too, and he's pretty good! He occasionally gives you those handmade bead bracelets. If he sees you wearing them he'll probably cling to you for the rest of the day.

Michael is actually like, really good at singing. He'll sing when he cleans, when he's doing his night shifts, when he's cooking or baking. If you like his singing, he might sing you a lullaby to help you sleep. If you sing with him he will be the happiest person on earth.

He likes a lot of things that are less traditionally masculine and more traditionally feminine, like flowers and soft things. (Blankets, stuffed animals, etc.) If you get him flowers, he'll press or dry them so he can keep them for much longer.

He's not much of a fan of animals, and animals don't like him that much. The exception being foxes, since he thinks they're very pretty. If you have any pets, he'd be happy to help you takecare of them, but he won't have a very deep emotional connection with the animal.

[cybunii]

HIDE AND SEEK

“Let's play a little game and have fun”

a/n: so glad this is finally finished >< I do have a part two planned but I have NO idea when that would come out. this is the longest thing i have written so far- pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN! Reader tw: stalking, dub/non-con, slight mentions of somnophilia, intercrural sex/thigh fucking, gaslighting, murder and drugging, Leon is a prick :3, obsessive and manipulative behavior, possible kidnapping, etc.

-

It was safe.

You lived in a relatively small town, and never seeing any reports of kidnapping or murders on your TV made life easy to live. The worst things to happen were food shortages because of the slow drivers, or maybe the power going out because of the awful storms. 

You never had to worry about anything. You worked at the little grocery store on the corner, going between the deli and the floral department when needed. After working there for years, you knew everyone who lived there, eventually knowing their names and where they lived. You had made it a point to talk to everyone you saw, wanting them to feel welcome and seen, it was just a small habit you picked up.

It wasn't the most exciting job in the world, but it was nice to be able to pay rent and have a routine. The days when partners would come in gushing about who they were buying flowers for were your favorite, let it be birthdays, holidays, or just a random event. It made your day, and you weren't even the one receiving the flowers. 

It seemed like you were the outcast in the town, not because no one liked you, but because you didn't have kids or a partner. It didn't bother you about the kids, you were never too fond of having them. Cute, but not for you. The partner subject was a harder thing to explain, you were used to living and being alone so it didn't bother you much. 

You always thought of that as you made the arrangements, the feeling of someone putting their heart into making something so special for you.

This puts you to right now, placing together an arrangement while Mrs. Green talks about her grandkids. You often wondered if she actually liked them with how much she complained about them. They were bad kids though, and got into trouble every week.

“…And of course Parker has to follow in Taylor’s footsteps and tear up the place, knocking over my expensive vase- the one you got me for my birthday-” She explains, covering her mouth as she realizes what she said. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry…” 

You shake your head and put on your best fake smile, holding up a hand to ease her worries. 

“It’s quite alright Mrs. Green, you know how kids are.” You shrug, but internally your wallet dies. You hunted for that vase for hours, finally getting one on sale for roughly $260. Damn those kids. 

She wraps up the conversation maybe a few minutes later, rattling off some reason about cooking her famous chicken again. 

You lived next to her and smelled whatever she cooked while you had your windows open, if the smells were any indication, she was a damn good cook. 

I mean anything smelled good to you. You weren’t a 5-star chef or anything, but you could cook decent meals. Better than the college route of sandwiches and noodles. Those were the days.

-

It doesn’t take long for the day to end, only having a few people working in the store meant shorter closing hours, and getting to go home earlier than most was a perk. You walk out after closing up, locking the door, and practically crashing into Mr. West, basically the head of the events committee for this town. 

“Woah! Be careful there sweetheart.” He said, chuckling like he wasn’t the reason of you almost falling on him. 

“Sorry, what’s up?” You asked, actually interested this time. The last time he planned something, the entire town showed up, it was one of the most exciting things to happen in this town in a while. 

“Well, I came to formally invite you to the little get-together I’ve been planning for the new neighbor, I want to help make them feel welcomed here.” He grins, clasping his hands together as he talks, I guess that makes sense, everyone here knows each other so a new person joining may feel out of place, almost like a new kid joining a new school. Possibly horrifying to experience. 

“A new person? Where at?” You ask, not seeing any empty buildings near your house. Then again it had been a while since you last looked, and the Gold family has been strangely absent. 

“Right on the corner, lil white house with the blue shutters?” 

You nod in acknowledgment, suddenly knowing where that one is and frowning at the fact. 

That house has been abandoned for years, I mean long before you even moved into your little place. The blue didn’t look as vibrant and the white was a sad and dirty grey. 

The inside of the house is just as run down as the outside was. Broken furniture litters the house, most have fallen from their resting places and piled up on each other. The walls are cracked and the floor is covered in dirt and grass that have grown inside the house. 

“Ah, yeah. That one…”

Mr. West nods, almost uncaring about the state of the house. “Yup, been meaning to sell that house for ages. Nice to see some new meat round here.”

“Guess so, but I’ll be glad to take you up on that offer. What’s the details for it?” You ask, taking out your phone. 

He practically swats your phone away, shaking his head in disappointment. “Ah don’t worry about that old thing, I got letters to send out, you’ll see it when it arrives!” He bids his goodbyes and quickly walks off down the sidewalk, assuming he’s knocking on the door of your neighbors next. 

On your journey back home, you take an extra second to look at the house, it being the same way you remembered it. You thought they’d at least try and clean it up, but maybe the person isn’t here yet. The mailbox at least looked new, a nice shiny baby blue color, the black numbers on the side reading “205.” 

If first impressions mean anything, the entrance having some pop to it makes it easier on the eyes and matches the house too. 

But something about the house seems off. You can't put your finger on it, but something feels...wrong about it. 

But maybe that's just the strange aura the abandoned house brings. You continue the trek to your house, thinking about the invitation that the city council member gave you previously before reaching your street. The quiet road is mostly void of any human activity, with the occasional leaf floating down on the wind and the birds fluttering through the air.

Having no information on it so far makes it hard to plan anything out, especially if the letter gets sent too late. 

-

You stop in your tracks at the small glimpse of color resting on your doormat, squinting your eyes at it and deciding it’s too far away to actually tell what it is. 

You make small strides to your front porch, your pepper spray in hand when you pause, almost laughing at the fact that you almost pepper sprayed a bouquet of flowers. You frown and pick it up, the display of flowers similarly close to the arrangement you made earlier that day. 

You suspiciously inspect it with squinted eyes, turning it around before finding the note secured by a ribbon that’s wrapped around the middle. 

“Thought you deserved these more. <3” 

That’s nothing short of weird. 

Not only did the note have some sort of…stain on it, the handwriting is damn near illegible, barely being able to read the poorly attempted cursive on the small note. 

You don’t even know who sent these but it already seems annoying. No return address and no name means there’s someone too shy to approach you, a loser in your eyes. Could be a cute loser, those are fun. 

You shrug it off and walk in your house, flowers in hand as you place them on the kitchen counter, scouring your cabinets for a vase that’s suitable for them. You know it’s your work, just strange on how it ended up back in your hands. You grab the glass from under the cabinet, putting fresh water in it as you trim the bottom of the stems, carefully setting them in the vase on the counter. You’d have to pick up flower food later, but you can always do that tomorrow, not like you don’t already have a shift at the grocery store in the morning.

It’s a weird, possibly fucked up scenario, but It’s almost sweet in a way. Maybe in a school girl way, with your crush or secret admirers sticking notes or love letters in the slots of your locker. Grinning as you show your friends, the ecstatic look on their faces as they encourage you to go over to them, to thank them or ask them out on a date. 

You’ll have to think of consequences later. 

But now? You’ll happily sip your drink and stare at the flowers, daydreaming about who could possibly be your secret admirer.

-

The next day at work is just as boring, but this time your manager Beck did assign someone to your department, so now you’ll only have flowers today. She is in the office today, and you being her favorite employee, she often hangs around, picking up scraps and putting together some of the orders. 

“You hear about the new guy?” She asked, lazily throwing together another order of red roses. 

New guy huh? Guess Mr. West didn’t mention who the new neighbor could be. 

“Somewhat, already got an invite to that huge gathering West is planning.” 

She scoffs, rolling her eyes at the mention of both the gathering and West. They were together at some point, could be rumors, but you can’t deny seeing her knuckles turn white on occasion as she clenches her fists together. Just hearing about him must make her angry. 

“I heard. Can’t wait for that.” 

“It won’t be so bad, maybe it’ll be nice to get the town together again. Especially for the all-famous new guy.” You offer with a shrug, knowing you could care less about all of it. 

It’s not like you hated the poor guy right off the bat, but with every conversation being centered around him? It makes him seem like the next Jesus Christ. With even you knowing about him, the entire town is probably waiting for his arrival. And you know these people, already have assumptions based on his name, of which you don’t even know. You’d almost feel bad if you didn’t already have your own assumptions. 

 He better live up to the hype, or these people will eat him alive. 

“…you know, I actually saw him when he was touring the house,” Beck says with a grin, and you already know the look on her face. She’s a romantic at heart, can’t really blame her. 

“Oh yeah, panty-dropping?” 

She laughs and rolls her eyes, but you know it’s true. She’s attractive, but her college days will never leave her. You cannot forget the drunken stories she’s rambled to you about them practically lining up outside her dorm, and honestly? Good for her. 

Only action you get is from whatever you watch on television, or recently that weird-ass admirer situation. You keep your mouth shut about that, not that you don’t trust her, but she’ll make it a much bigger thing than you need right now. The last thing you need is more attention for this weird display of affection. 

“Well, he’s kinda tall, intimidating but has a cute baby face- Oh! And the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen.” She smiles, practically glowing red. 

“Sounds boring, there’s like a million of those already.” You shrug, crossing your arms after putting down the completed order. 

“This one is different! There’s something about his eyes, he’s mysterious.” She nods, a mischievous expression on her face. 

“Right, I’ll see for myself whenever this party happens.”

Beck waves you off with her hand and goes into the break room, maybe to smoke again, it has been a while since her last break. 

It’s been a while since your break as well, and no one is near the counter, and you’ve finished all your orders for today. What harm could a break do? You follow in her footsteps and walk back to your locker, opening it and sifting through your bag. After a few moments you forget what you’re looking for, but the lack of your lighter makes you pause. 

Very small thing, but still noticeable. You step outside and eye Beck up and down with a suspicious look, squinting your eyes at her. 

“What?” She asks, blowing out the smoke. 

“Did you grab my lighter? It’s gone.” 

She raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, pulling out her bright yellow lighter. “Nope, got mine right here. Anyone else smoke?” 

“Nah, just us. Damn, I liked that one.” You feel your pockets one last time and lean against the wall, now having to buy yet another lighter. 

“How do you keep losing yours?” She laughs at you, and you shrug, not like you have any idea. You have a good memory but misplace the small things, you think it’s only natural. 

“No clue, maybe I’m being haunted.” 

The woman laughs again and shakes her head. "Haunted by who? A ghost with something to gain from you? I heard that is an incredibly rare phenomenon."

It doesn't seem crazy, in fact, the idea feels...plausible. The spirits that haunt this area are mostly vengeful, but that still doesn't explain why they would send you things. What would a vengeful spirit have to gain from giving you gifts?

“Yknow, I’ve got this other guy, names L? Supposedly runs a business catching ghosts, people eat that shit up. He’s basically swimming in money.” She nods with a serious look, pointing her finger at you. 

And? Yeah okay- Sometimes you can’t tell if she’s actually serious or just fucking with you. 

You don’t offer up a reply, instead staring at her with a disappointed look. She shrugs in response, taking a drag off her cigarette. 

She continues smoking, blowing out a puff of grey smoke that wafts up and drifts away in the wind. It has a pleasant smell, the scent of flowers and honey-like fruits. It is soothing. The woman's expression remains as nonchalant as it was previously.

“Might head in, heard someone at the counter.” It’s cutting your break a few minutes short, but not like you can do anything else. 

Have to add that to your list of things to do later. 

Care about the consequences of keeping the flowers, buy a new lighter, and use your break time wisely. 

You make a mental note of those three things. The rest of your shift goes as smoothly as expected, though you have a nagging feeling that there is something off about the house you saw earlier. That feeling, mixed with the strange gifts and Beck's strange comment has your mind racing. 

-

That night you had to close late, the customers obviously not understanding closing hours. You get people need food, but they could’ve cleared their schedules or something- Maybe even get there the next morning when you first open. Beck couldn’t close because her cat sitter said he got sick, so she had to rush home and get him to the vet- which is unfortunately hours away.

You make your rounds through the store, jotting down the few things that need to be stocked in the morning. And also make sure no one is trying to stay overnight, kicking those people out is the worst. The last time someone had hidden in the break room, practically scaring the poor new girl to death, she didn’t stay long after that.

A small clang gets your attention, the sound only being noticed because of the dead silent- and hopefully empty store. 

Two things could happen here, either someone is here and fucking with something, or it’s an animal of some kind. 

You don’t want to deal with either. 

You unhook the pepper spray from off your belt, gripping it in your hands like it may fall, almost like a greedy spoiled kid with anything. Unable to let go, and won’t without a good reason. 

Your reason? 

Nothing being here. 

You stalk around the corner with quiet steps, frowning when you hear the small taps of your shoes as they carefully touch the ground when you walk. Damn these shoes and this slick ass floor. You’re hyper-focused on any noise that your ears can pick up, but of course your brain has to imagine hearing footsteps all around you. Another clang has you looking towards the break room, now registering the sound as the locker opening and closing. Walking towards the sound makes your heart race, the loud thumping beats filling your head as you take more and more steps towards the room. 

Rushing around the corner has you panting and hyperventilating, aiming your pepper spray at the lockers - seeing a masked figure quickly slip out the back door, completely dressed in black. 

You run after them, knocking the door open and running into the parking lot. After a quick and very thorough search, it was like they disappeared. There’s no one walking or anything, only the sound of the wind filling your ears. 

A quick walk back to the break room and you’re searching the lockers, praying that they didn’t steal or break anything. Everything is perfectly fine, until you step towards your locker. Nothing seems out of place, but your gut tells you something is in there, something’s wrong. 

You take a deep breath and swing the locker open, squeezing your eyes shut so hard you start seeing shapes. Nothing popping out at you has you opening your eyes again, glancing down at your once empty locker with an expression of disbelief- and maybe a small hint of…disappointment?

It’s your lighter. A small note attached to it reading, “Sorry :(“

…

What?

You know it’s whoever gave you the flowers, I mean they find your house, your workplace, and locker, steal your stuff, and then return it?

You were barely angry about it, only annoyed, and that’s all it took for them to give it back to you? Especially in the weird way that they did. 

They had to be nearby to hear that conversation you had with Beck, whether outside or inside the store. But no one being there makes you pause.

It makes you wonder how long they’ve been watching you. 

The chill that runs down your spine and makes your entire body shiver makes you consider finally setting up those security cameras around your house. You may not be able to do it at the store, but damn this stalker being able to free-roam your own house. 

Makes you consider buying another weapon as well, pepper spray is temporary at this point, people can still fight with their eyes closed.

It being almost midnight puts a stop to enacting any of your plans, you'll just have to invest a pretty penny in the morning to get those cameras, then spend the entire afternoon planning out and placing the cameras around your house. 

Even if you are the only one to see the footage, the thought of having cameras watch you is almost creepy in a way. Like an instant goosebumps kind of feeling. Just gross, can't explain it. 

A quick walk back to your house has you calming down some, despite it being night, the street lights do good work to light up the streets, and hearing the small buzz come from them is soothing in a way. 

You stop by your mailbox first, your morning shift crossing with the path of the mailman's schedule. A glance through the letters and you stop at the bright pink one, immediately knowing it has the details of the gathering. 

Ripping the top off and skimming through the small writing makes you want to crumble the letter up in your hands, just tossing it out into the street. Of course, it's tomorrow, well technically today since it's well past midnight now. 

The only good part is that it's around five, which gives you time to sleep and prepare some weird side dish. It's much better than trying to pick out a gift for the random guy, that's a hair-pulling kind of stress that you definitely dont want to deal with right now, or ever. 

-

That night you actually managed to have a full night's rest, no randomly waking up or any nightmares to scare you half to death. The bright lights peaking through your blinds make you immediately cover your eyes, stretching your legs out and hearing the small pops. 

Sitting up makes you jolt a bit, and the sudden realization of something wet between your legs makes you groan. A quick look under the covers has your mind reeling, it's definitely not your period, and it's all over your thighs and underwear. 

You dont remember having a dream that good to literally come everywhere, let alone have it look like this. Tossing your clothes and sheets in the washing machine and taking a hot shower has you relaxing and not paying any attention to it. 

You have better things you need to worry about today. 

The letter only contained the dishes already being brought to the event, a small note at the bottom explaining to try and bring a dish everyone can eat. Could be easy enough, you could just go to the store and grab a fruit plate or something. Doesn’t take much time to get and is somewhat inexpensive. 

Plus-

Everyone knows this main event is not about the food. 

Around roughly 4:45, you pull up to an awfully crowded building. With most of the parking spaces being filled and people having to stand outside due to the inside being packed, you dont have high hopes for a stress-free night. 

These people are good people, and you get along with them just fine. But having to be at an introduction party is the worst. Having the same conversation over and over again isn't exactly your idea of fun.

And with how many people are here? 

You should practically have sorry on speed dial anytime you may bump into someone, I mean- god forbid you dont apologize for what they did. Of course, everything is fine, you might explode if someone elbows you again but it's all chill! Complaining and daydreaming have you slowly exiting your car, fruit plate in hand as you try to find the food table. 

A reunion. Always something to complain about, whether the food is too dry, the children are annoying, or the awkward moment when that one neighbor drinks too much and starts to talk about his latest conspiracy theories. 

A lot of families have those members you wish you didn't know. But, hey, that's the price you pay to be related to someone.

And two conversations later you finally set it down 20 minutes later. 

You glance up at the poorly taped banner on the wall, holding up a nice welcome greeting.

Leon, huh?

Puts a name to the face you haven't seen yet.

There's something ominous in the air about party's dedicated to a single individual. 

Maybe because everything is out of your control, with every person here dedicated to making the honored person the center of attention. 

Of course, that is exactly why he might enjoy their party. But for a newcomer, it feels like being thrown into a lion's pit, surrounded by a pride of unknown beasts.

In moments like these, you wish it was just a normal party, where the stakes were lower, and the random people and neighbors were your friends.

It's not that they're rude people. You're just more of an introvert, wishing you had some kind of anchor for yourself, a familiar face or a friendly voice.

Beck hasn’t even shown up yet, leaving you standing in the corner watching the others, sipping on a champagne that tastes like perfume. 

You push yourself off the wall and crash into someone, the champagne spilling all over your neck and outfit, the sounds of their apologies drowned out by your thoughts.

The smell of spilled champagne fills your nose, and the apologetic sounds from the stranger fills your ears. You are sure to apologize as well, as the liquid stains your clothes and spills onto the ground as well.

The stranger seems nice, though unfortunate that the two of you crashed into each other, and both of your outfits are now wet and sticky.

The stranger doesn't seem very upset or annoyed by your spilling your drink over them, and you apologize profusely.

A moment passes, and you lock eyes with this strange person. The two of you laugh, the embarrassment fading away as both of you realize that it was an unfortunate accident.

Both of your attention is focused on each other now. The two of you lock eyes, and you can't help but notice how attractive this stranger is. It’s not about his overall appearance or personality, it’s the eyes that are drawing you in. Like a siren call, they practically pull you in, drowning in a sea of the most beautiful blue shade you’ve ever seen. 

“What an awkward first impression, kinda ruined that. I’m Leon, by the way-“ 

He chuckles, extending his hand out and shaking yours with a firm grip, the feeling of rough and calloused palms against your own is almost calming in a way. 

“I’d stay and chat for a bit but I should get cleaned up…” You chuckle awkwardly, gesturing towards the champagne that nearly drenched you. 

“Ah, I am sorry again. I should’ve paid more attention.” Leon frowns, looking you up and down, almost analyzing the mess he made of you. 

A quick nod and you’re off to the bathroom, staring in the mirror as you dab your neck and chest with a damp paper towel. The odd but familiar scent of the towel fills your nose, almost like a wet stale cardboard smell. 

You toss them in the trash when you’re done, admiring your appearance in the mirror before stepping back out of the bathroom. As you step out of the bathroom, your eyes are quickly met by the stranger you met earlier. Leon seems to be making a quick beeline towards you, the two of you catching up after the awkward spill.

Leon eyes you with interest, his shy but flirty demeanor becoming increasingly obvious to you. “You clean up real nice.”

You feel your cheeks flush at his comment about you cleaning up nicely. It seems that your efforts paid off after all. You didn’t dress up for him, let alone dress to impress. But god do those words make you happy. 

You smile at him, unsure of what to say next. He seems a bit flirtatious, which is certainly intriguing.

You can't help but feel your heart pounding like it never has before. The two of you lock eyes for a moment, and your breathing grows shallow as you take him in fully. 

He stands a bit taller than you are, his dirty blonde hair framing his face just right. The way that he stands gives you a sense of security, and his expression is one that speaks volumes. The lights reflected off his soft features, almost making him glow. Maybe Beck was right, he may be average, but there’s something else there. 

There is something intriguing about him, something that attracts your attention, almost begging you to investigate more. While he might be average-looking, his presence is anything but, and you are sure to discover what hides below the surface of those gorgeous eyes.

You find yourself caught in conversation with Leon for so long, that the moments start to slip away as you talk away the night. The feeling of being energized is almost invigorating, as the two of you laugh and enjoy each other's company. It's hard to imagine that only the champagne is causing the buzzing feeling in your body, it is certainly more than just that. 

The night continues on, and the two of you keep talking, enjoying each other's company. The more you engage in conversation, the feeling underneath your skin starts to grow almost intense, and it becomes harder to ignore it, or how you feel about this stranger. You can’t tell if the pounding in your head is because of the alcohol or him, his gaze towards you sending chills down your spine, goosebumps trailing their way down your arms.

Leon seems to notice something is off, and the expression he presents is one of concern. "Is something wrong? You look sick..."

It takes every ounce of willpower to keep yourself collected, and your shaking heart under control. "It's nothing, just had too much to drink... maybe," you finally say, giving a half-smile and trying not to show how nervous you are.

You can't help but feel your heart beating like an angry drum. You're almost certain that he can see the signs of your drunken affection for him, and you are sure to grow more and more embarrassed with every passing moment. 

It seems like Leon is trying to offer support, but to you, this just feels like a game of hide and seek, each side trying not to show their cards too early. A cat and mouse chase, the game only ending when the other party gives in. 

“I’m fine, promise.” You wave off his concern, swirling your drink around in your glass in an attempt to focus on something other than his face.

"Okay, if you're sure..." Leon says, his tone expressing that he sees right through your bluff.

He seems to notice you trying to distract him from the situation, and his expression softens slightly. He seems to pick that up, and the conversation continues.

You can't help but feel a tad bit awkward, so you focus on your drink to avoid looking at him. The swirling glass keeps your vision occupied, but your mind is still focused on the face you tried to avoid.

The conversation continues, and there is little to distract you from the awkward situation between you and Leon. The buzz has only grown more intense, almost making it hard to think straight at moments. Your heart is beating and your mind is reeling, tiny specks of black spotting your vision.

“I’m gonna get some fresh air,“ 

As the words begin to leave your mouth, his features shift to one of confusion, disappointment, and hints of something else that you can’t quite place. "... you're leaving?"

"I'm just...." you try to reply, but the words get caught in your throat. "I'll be back, just need some fresh air," you finally manage to stammer out, the expression on his face adding fuel to your lie.

He only nods in response, and you stagger off to the exit, trying to escape the overwhelming feelings flooding you.

You rush past the other partygoers, ignoring their looks and questions as you try to escape to the privacy of your car. The air is refreshingly cool compared to the crowded party inside, and you can finally breathe. You don't bother leaning against the wall, and instead make a dash for your car.

The freedom is refreshing, and you open your car door to find a quiet space where you can collect your thoughts. You still feel a weird mix of emotions inside you, but in the car, you have some time to calm down.

The drive back home is a surreal experience, as the intense feelings of embarrassment and concern start to settle in. You get home and flop onto your bed, letting the plush pillows and soft blankets ease your mind as you fall asleep in a matter of minutes. 

You fall into a deep sleep, but the feelings still linger. However, the soft embrace of sleep makes the feelings more bearable, and you finally allow yourself to rest.

-

The hangover is the first thing that hits you as you wake up, along with the pounding of your head and the aching pain in your body. Itchiness washes over you, feeling like a lingering reminder of the previous night. No wonder you woke up with a headache, considering the amount of alcohol you probably put away last night.

The little bit of alcohol seems like it affected you more than it should have, given the fact that you aren't a lightweight. Why did you have such a strong reaction to a small amount of alcohol? Was it the stress of the situation, or was there something else going on?

You take the pill killers and swallow the cold water with some difficulty, the scratching in your throat making it difficult to swallow. You hope and pray that the pills will kick in soon, as the pounding in your head is unbearable.

The feeling of the pills finally kicking in makes the headache much more tolerable and the itchy feeling under your skin shifts to something slightly less unbearable. You still feel the heat beneath your skin, and you know that the strange feeling hasn't gone away, but it's certainly become more manageable.

As the pills take effect, you're able to gather yourself for a shower. The hot water pours over your body, and it's heavenly. Not only does it bring the pain of your hangover down to a much more bearable level, but it even helps to calm the strange feeling that has been creeping underneath your skin as well. The heat from the water feels divine, and you find yourself lingering in the shower far longer than you intend to.

You step out of the shower, all clean and dressed with a light snack eaten. The lingering effects of the strange feeling are finally bearable, and you're ready to face the world again.

You leave your house and make your way to the hardware store, hoping that they will have the security cameras that you're looking for. The walk there is pleasant, and the breeze is helping to clear out the last bit of the strange feeling you experienced the night before.

As you enter the hardware store, you are relieved to discover that they do, in fact, carry the security cameras that you're looking for. The person working there is super friendly and knowledgeable, helping to guide you to the right section of the store.

It's nice to be able to get some answers about what happened a few nights ago, and the purchase will certainly make you feel safer in your own home.

You're staring at the two boxes, considering one white shade or the other, when a familiar voice breaks your concentration. It's Leon, and it seems he followed you to the store? 

He seems to recommend one shade over the other, and you take his suggestion to heart. The ghost white seems to suit the color of your walls much better, although the seashell has a nice pinkish hue to it. 

"I'll take the ghost white, then," you say, and turn to give him a smile.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you turn around, spotting his empty basket in hand. 

"I, uhh..." he falters for a moment before continuing. "I was actually headed here to buy some things as well." He gestures to the store, but his eyes seem to be fixed on you instead.

He seems to have something else to say, but he's hesitant. You get the feeling that he's trying to find the right words, and he seems to be avoiding making eye contact.

“I hope you find them all right, they seem to have everything here!” You quickly reply, snuffing out any hint of awkwardness.

He seems to relax a little, as if relieved to shift the topic away from anything tense. "Yeah, they really have everything here. They've got everything I was looking for."

The awkwardness between you seems to have faded, and you feel a bit more comfortable. The conversation is back to being a bit lighthearted, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of both of your shoulders.

You bid your goodbyes and walk back to your house, holding the bag of freshly bought security cameras in your hand. Hopefully, they’ll blend nicely into your walls, Leon seemed to think so. 

You arrive back home with the two boxes of security cameras in hand and start to consider how to best set them up. You quickly decide the two outside and one in your bedroom, with the last remaining one being a bit of a mystery.

The living room would be a natural spot, but it's pretty open, and doesn't really make sense to have a camera there. The kitchen and dining room are an option, but those rooms could be considered too far away from your bedroom to really be effective at helping your paranoia.

You sit there for a moment, considering options of where the last camera could go. There are so many rooms, and so many different areas to consider, and you can't help but feel overwhelmed.

Finally, you make a decision. The last one will go in the basement, and the basement could use something to watch over it. The basement is an eerie place, with a large variety of odd and old items. The basement is not the neatest place in the world, but that works in your favor. 

You just make sure that it isn't pointed directly at any one thing, but rather in a way that you can watch everything.

You download the app on your phone, which allows you to view all of the cameras at any time. The basement camera is running smoothly, and the stream is clear. You can see the entire room at all times, though you can't detect any obvious signs of intruders or anything out of the ordinary.

It's a relief to have the cameras installed, and the house feels a bit more secure. 

Back upstairs, you toss the empty box and paper away as soon as you return. You won't need the physical reminder anymore, as the code is easy to remember. 

You sit on the couch and feel a feeling of peace wash over you. The cameras are set up, and the inside and outside can be monitored now. It feels comforting, and you hope the cameras will help deter any intruders from targeting your home, or better yet- whoever that one person was. 

-

A few days pass without any issues, and you feel your stress levels ease. Each peaceful day that goes by brings relief, knowing that the cameras are doing their job and nothing strange is going on. 

It's weird to think the strangest thing to happen is tourists flirting with you at your job, it's the truth. Every time you have to deal with one, you wonder how dumb they can really be. You wish you could smack them with the bouquets you sell, and make them regret ever coming over to your counter. But of course, you can't because that's not "Customer Service Friendly.” Ugh.

You almost start to forget about your worries, and life seems to return back to normal. The cameras are doing their job, and it seems like everything has been sorted out.

Leon has become a frequent person in your life, and you find yourself seeing him in almost every place you go. It seems that your paths often cross, even when you aren't necessarily expecting it.

Despite your issues with Leon earlier on, he has turned out to be an alright person. He hasn't done anything malicious like you had assumed, and he seems to be an honest person at this point. 

Beck still hasn't messaged you or anything, so it's been quite lonely without anyone to talk to. Leon has been the only person keeping you distracted from loneliness, and it's kind of refreshing to have someone new to talk to and hang out with.

Getting to know him in such a short time has been a bit of a surprise, as he's shared quite a bit with you. 

You learn about his life as a retired police officer, that he lives with a German shepherd named Lola, and that he currently doesn't have his family. The only other aspect about him that you haven't learned yet is his romantic life.

It's certainly understandable that he would keep his romantic life to himself. You don't go around advertising the fact that you're single either, so you get where he's coming from. It's just a private part of someone's life, and it's not something that needs to be discussed unless it's brought up by the person directly. 

It feels like there's more to him than just the police officer part, the German shepherd, and the lack of family. You kind of feel like there's more to the story when it comes to him. 

Which leads you to now.

You had invited Leon over for dinner, hoping that the house setting would make him feel more comfortable to open up and share more with you. You don't know what it is about him, but there's definitely more to his story than just his career and lack of family. He has some kind of wall around him, and maybe the more peaceful setting of the house will help him relax and share more.

The doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of Leon. You take one last glance in the mirror, making sure everything looks perfect before heading down to answer the door. You open the door, greeting Leon with a smile and leading him inside. 

The dining area is all setup, a delicious meal waiting on the table. The candles are lit and the mood is quiet and peaceful. The smell of the food you cooked wafted through the air, mixing with the warm and light scent of the candles.

Leon seems to be a bit sheepish as his eyes reach the table and linger on the candles and expensive dishes. "You didn't have to do all this for me..." he says, his tone of voice soft but a bit anxious.

You smile and reassure him, "Don't be ridiculous, It's nothing. I just thought I'd make you a nice meal. I've been wanting to cook for someone, and it seemed like a good opportunity." 

He seems to relax once you assure him, though he still seems a bit nervous. He is not used to this, the kindness that you're showing him. It's more than what Leon is used to. He almost looks uncomfortable. 

You take your seat at the table, motioning for him to take his as well. The candles light the room with a warm and dim glow, adding to the pleasant atmosphere of the dinner. Leon sits down at the table, looking at the food with a bit of a smile. He looks nervous still, but there is some kind of small enjoyment on his face. The dinner looks inviting, and Leon seems to be slowly growing comfortable with the situation.

You continue to chat over the delicious dinner, and the conversation flows smoothly for both of you. Leon is enjoying the food and seems to actually be enjoying the conversation. It's the first time you've gone this deep into your friendship with him, and you can't help but feel glad that he is enjoying this night so far.

You both finish eating, and you start putting away the food. You're now standing at your sink as you start washing the dishes, Leon coming over to help and washing the rest of them.

"Let me help you with that, I don't mind at all," Leon says, taking the dishes from you and helping to wash them. "I'm used to doing housework, so I can help finish these with you."

You feel a bit of resistance to the idea, wanting to handle it on your own. But, it seems like Leon is not accepting refusal as an answer. 

Instead, he is taking the dishes from you and helping to wash them himself. There is a sense of kindness and politeness in his voice as if he is offering a helping hand, and you can't bring yourself to deny him. You're not exactly sure what you did to deserve this level of kindness, but you're certainly not complaining.

"Well, thank you. I appreciate the help," You say, giving in and washing the dishes alongside him. "It's no problem really," Leon says, washing the dishes. The two of you scrub away at the dishes, and for a while, there's nothing but the sound of clattering dishes as the water washes over them.

Leon seems more comfortable now, and you notice that he's smiling a bit more as the dishes are cleaned. He does seem a bit restless though, unable to stay still for a long time. Messing with his clothes, bouncing his knee, fiddling with the dishes. The silence is peaceful though, and it's nice to have this small moment with Leon.

You glance over a few times and see Leon's gaze landing on the sharper cutlery, and you notice that he seems to be running his fingers along the sharp edge as if he is contemplating something. It's like he's considering whether or not he should be allowed to use those utensils, as if they're forbidden fruit or something. You can't help but feel a bit uneasy about the way he keeps looking at them. You watch cautiously as he continues to run his fingers along the sharp edge as if testing it out. There's a bit of worry in your mind when it comes to letting him hold these knives, as he seems to be entranced by them in some way. The thought of letting him get near them is making you feel a bit uneasy, but you don't want to be too controlling and tell him he can't touch them.

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should say anything at all, but your worry over the situation is too much for you to let go. You finally ask, "Is everything okay?"

Leon stops and turns to face you, his attention returning to you. "Hmm?" Leon hums, and you notice he's snapped out of the trance he was in. "Oh, yeah, everything's alright. I'm just cleaning the knives," he says, holding one up and scrubbing it.

You furrow your brows a bit at that comment, not wanting to push it further than that. If he says things are alright, then you might just have to take him at his word. It's no use pushing it further if he seems to be content, and you don't want to make things awkward or uncomfortable now.

As you finish up your portion of the dishes, you head over to the counter to dry your hands off with the hand towel. You keep glancing over at Leon, and he's still washing the dishes too. You're feeling ready to rest, but it seems like Leon is just finishing up his portion now. You watch him for a few moments as he finishes up the cutlery, wondering how much longer he'll take.

"I really do want to thank you." Leon suddenly says, the shift in his tone causes you to freeze a little bit, your brow twitching slightly at the ominous undertones it brings with it. You wonder what could have caused this change in the tone of his voice. The sudden seriousness that has come over him is unsettling, and it's almost as if he sees you in a different light now.

"You've been so nice to me, I can't help but feel touched," he says, still looking down at the dishes he's cleaning. This shift is alarming, especially with the way he's not even looking at you anymore.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to pass off his words with a joke. "No need to get all sappy on me," you echo back, hoping that he'll laugh along with you.

"Just wanted us to talk more, have a nice dinner between friends…" You repeat back in an attempt to be lighthearted and not make the situation too awkward.

"A friend, hm?" he says, finally taking his eyes off the dishes and looking up at you now. His gaze is almost piercing, and you can feel that he is studying you with his full attention. The way he's looking at you now makes you feel exposed, almost like he can find some hidden flaw with just one glance. His stare is almost piercing, and you feel like you're being studied from every angle. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you, and what he could be thinking right now.

"Well, we are friends," you reply back, feeling quite uneasy with the way he is looking at you. You don't like the way he's studying you like this, as if he's trying to find something wrong with you.

"That's what I've considered you as this entire time," you continue, trying to keep the sour feelings at bay.

Leon's gaze shifts and his entire demeanor changes in a jarring way. One moment he was focused on the dishes, and the next he was looking at you with an intense gaze that sends chills down your spine. You stare back at him with hesitation, and in just a split second you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of uneasiness wash over you when you see him looking at you like this.

The silence between you two is thick as you stare at each other, and it's as if everything else in the world has stopped. You can't help but feel a sharp feeling of nervousness building inside you, making it feel almost as if you're in the presence of danger. You can't place exactly what changed about him, or what caused this shift in his demeanor. 

His laugh echoes in your ears, but the low and rumbling sound only serves to further distress you. This whole situation is unsettling and it's making you question everything. The whole time you thought you were simply having a nice dinner with a friend, but it appears the situation is a bit more intense than you thought.

"Is that what you think this is?" he asks you, raising an eyebrow.

"This friendship?" you ask, and you feel a bit taken off guard by the question. You stare back at him, your eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. 

"What do you mean?"

"Is that what you think this is?" he asks again, and this time his tone is darker. You can't help but feel uncomfortable with the way he's looking at you when he says those words. It's as if he's challenging you in some way, and the vibe of him seems to have changed.

You can feel a mixture of confusion and anger wash over you as you narrow your eyes at Leon. You feel like he is implying something different, and you don't like it at all.

"That's all I think you are at the moment, nothing more," you reply, trying to keep your cool. You don't like the way this conversation is going, and you don't want to get too frustrated and ruin everything.

"Well, I'm sorry if you aren't satisfied with that outcome," Leon replies, his tone taking on a more ominous feel to it. Your confusion is growing at this point because everything he's saying seems to carry a deeper message. "But I dont think you understand what you're saying..."

"What do you mean by that?" you reply, feeling like the conversation is getting a bit intense now. The way he's talking has taken on a more ominous feel to it, and you can't help but feel a bit uneasy now.

"I dont understand what I'm saying?" you echo back, looking at him with a cautious expression. You're not sure what he means by that, but you're starting to get a bad feeling in your gut.

"I think you're just confused is all." He replies nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

You can't help but feel a moment of frustration when he replies with a casual shrug. Was he just messing around with you? Was that threat in his words supposed to be some kind of joke?

"Confused?" you repeat back, but there's a bit of a frown on your face now. You're starting to feel more than just a bit confused, as he seems to be toying with your emotions. You're not sure what game he's playing at, but it's starting to bother you.

"Okay, I dont understand what's going on here. But I'm not comfortable with you being in my house anymore, I think you should leave." You say, shaking your head, shifting your weight back and forth as you speak, the motion soothing you. 

He seems taken aback by this sudden dismissal, his expression darkening somewhat as he looks at you with a look of surprise and something else. It's like he's trying to hide his anger, but you can't help but feel the threat of it lurking in his eyes.

"I'm not leaving," he replies, his tone shifting back to one of arrogance. He doesn't care that you're not comfortable with this situation, instead, he's demanding that this conversation continue. 

You feel like you're being backed into a corner, and the thought of being forced to engage with this anymore is making you feel uneasy.

"I said you should leave." You repeat yourself, doubling down on your decision.

"No, you should think things through and realize that you want me here." He says, his tone shifting from one of arrogance back to a threatening aura. It's a bit unsettling how quickly he shifted to this, with such a demanding tone. The conversation shifts in tone once again, and he is back to being arrogant and demanding. He doesn't plan to leave just because you told him to, and you're starting to feel uncomfortable with being in this situation with a person so hostile and unyielding.

You quickly size him up, your eyes widening when you spot the tightly gripped knife in his hand. The sudden change in his attitude and that tight grip on the knife make all the pieces click together for you, and suddenly everything makes sense. Your instincts take over, and you become alert to being in a potentially dangerous situation.

Leon notices your shock and tries to take advantage of it, lunging at you with the knife, aiming for your stomach. The sudden lunge catches you off-guard, and you flinch at the action. You can't help but start to feel a rush of fear as the knife aims for your stomach. 

You react quickly, dodging out of the way and punching him square in the jaw, sending him flying towards the floor. 

You scramble away and run as fast as you can in the direction of your bedroom, closing the door behind you and locking it tight. 

The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes your heart beat faster with every step, and you can feel your breath coming out in quick, shaky breaths.

You look around your room in a frenzy, using your new found strength to push your dresser in front of the door. You’re sure any police officer knows how to pick a lock, especially the basic ones that are in these old houses. In a panic, you try to find a place to hide and scan the room for somewhere to hide, your eyes landing on your closet. 

You move toward the closet, and you're careful to open and shut the door slowly. The inside of the closet is dark and cramped, making it feel more creepy than comforting. You try to ignore the feeling of claustrophobia that is creeping into you, and you duck down as you pull the door closed behind you.

The moment you duck into the closet, you hear the sounds of footsteps rushing up the stairs. You realize that your bedroom is the last room in the hallway, which means it could take him a while before he reaches you. 

But, he's going to get to you eventually and you start feeling a bit of panic in the back of your mind.

Would anyone find you when he reaches you? Could you be recognizable to the poor neighbor who finds your body when he’s done? 

You begin to get more and more anxious as the footsteps draw closer, the tension and fear of waiting for the inevitable reaching a fever pitch. 

You sit there in the closet, hiding and waiting in the darkness. You know that the longer this goes on, the more danger you're in, and you can't help but shake slightly at the thought.

You hear the slam of the guest room's door as it burst open, followed by the quiet sounds of rustling that fill your ears as he searches the room. It's an eerie noise, and it sends shivers down your spine as you realize he's getting closer to you. You clutch your hands, trying to keep your breathing quiet and steady as he gets closer.

The silence is overwhelming, as you try everything you can not to make a sound. You hold your breath as you hear Leon searching in the bathroom now, the rustling sound of the curtain pulling back catching your attention, your racing heartbeat growing stronger and louder as he gets closer. The tension is building, and the thought of him finding you is causing you more distress than you would like to admit.

You can hear the chuckle of Leon's voice as he reaches your bedroom door, and you hold your breath even tighter. He's getting so close now, and you can feel yourself starting to tremble with fear. His voice carries with it a sense of dominance and arrogance, and you can almost imagine the smirk he's giving you right now.

You clench your fists tightly as you hear Leon's voice talking to you through the door.

"I know you're in there. Why are you hiding? Do you think it'll help you?" he says, his voice sounding smug and superior. He sounds like he's enjoying this situation a bit too much, and your heart starts pounding in your chest as you hear the confidence in his voice.

The silence is almost deafening when you don’t respond, and you sit there listening to your rapid heartbeat and your slow breathing. There's so much tension in the air, and you feel like your heartbeat is going to explode out of your chest. 

The silence lasts for what seems like an eternity, but you close your eyes tight, hoping that he'll just give in and leave you alone. And, it seems your prayers are answered, and there's only silence for a few moments before the sound of footsteps heading down the stairs makes you sigh of relief. 

You sit in the closet, letting out a sigh of relief when you hear the footsteps heading down the stairs instead of coming toward your closet door. The tension is starting to ebb slightly, and you feel an overwhelming sense of relief wash over you. You feel like you can finally breathe again, and you start to slow your breathing as you try to calm down.

The sound of the dresser scraping against the floor escapes your notice as you try to take deep breaths and calm yourself down. You miss the sound of the footsteps moving toward the door, letting your heart beat faster as you bury your head into your hands. You miss the subtle noises that would have warned you of what was coming. 

When he rips open the closet door, you let out a sharp gasp and freeze, staring up at him in fear as he stares back with that smug expression on his face.

"Found you."

-

word count: 10k

If you wanted the dinner to go differently :)

[starry-hughes]

hey mat(t)hew

mat barzal x reader, matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: cheating, angst, mentions of sex, more angst, barzy ends up heartbroken but so does tkachuk, inspired by the song hey ben (games we play & hoodie allen)

summary: matthew finds out you have another boyfriend who happens to be closer to him than he would have ever guessed.

navigation

I got some things that I've been meaning to get off my chest. Been holding on to this so long, I've never been so stressed. 

Mathew Barzal was never expecting a text from a random number addressing him as Mathew. He didn’t even know who this was. Why was this person addressing him as if they knew one another, as if they had something in common?

“Hey Mathew… hate to be the bearer of bad news..”

That’s how the text started. 

And this might just weird you out, But I flagged you down to say, I know we haven't met, But we've got tons of friends in common, And lying isn't me, so I'll just be completely honest. 

You had wanted to get out of Fort Lauderdale since you were a teenager. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, acceptance to NYU and funding from your parents, you were in New York. The plan wasn’t to find a job right out of graduation and work for a company based in Fort Lauderdale. Luckily, you didn’t have to return there often, just for the occasional, one-time-a-month trip, your job letting you work remotely for the most part. 

Your life was perfect. A college degree, a job, and a hot boyfriend, Mathew Barzal. Your life was enjoyable, being a hockey girlfriend and successful. It wasn’t that Mat was a bad boyfriend. He was great. He would buy expensive gifts, tell you that he loves you, everything you could ask for. 

Both traveling for work, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to go down to Florida for work while Mat was traveling as well, he’d be on the West Coast while you were down in Florida, sitting through boring meetings. He’d text you good morning and good night, call you if he could, and tell you he loved you. 

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you. Maybe it was the fact that a minor argument had happened while you were packing to leave on your work trip of the month and Mathew was staying in New York for the week. You were staying at a rental house, paid for by your company, it was a nice place in a nice area: Sunrise, Florida. 

Hey Ben, I'm sorry, but I might have slept with your girlfriend I was under the impression she was my girlfriend. Don't worry, it won't happen again. But, hey Ben, I can't make any promises. 

Matthew Tkachuk had been on the Florida Panthers for a short time when he stumbled into you. You were on a jog, needing to clear your head about your rocky relationship back home. Matthew was rounding his car, walking to the trunk when you jogged by and startled him. You ripped out your headphones, huffing an apology. “It’s okay,” Matthew flashed a smile at you, “I’ve never seen you around here.” 

With your hands on your hips, you suddenly feel something, lust. “Just here on a work trip, can I help you with groceries? Since I startled you.” He had completely forgotten about the groceries in his trunk, the Publix bags staring at him. 

You ended up sleeping with Matthew Tkachuk that night. 

You felt guilty. Horrible. But the sex was too good. It would be a secret, one you wanted to take to the grave. A one-time thing. You’d delete his number, forget his name and the way his beard scratched your thighs. 

Hey Ben, I'm sorry, but I might have slept with your girlfriend. I guess she went and fucked around with both our heads, I think I might have ruined your day. Hey Ben, I'm sorry that you found out from me. 

Mathew didn’t notice anything was off. You had decided not to tell him. You got home and everything was fine. He apologized, gave you a pretty necklace and told you he loved you. Everything was fine. 

Except when your phone would buzz in the middle of the night. You had hidden WhatsApp in one of your app folders, Mathew believed it was for work. Matthew, from Florida, would send texts, saying he was thinking about you, thinking about the night you shared. 

You knew it was wrong, but when your boyfriend fell asleep next to you, you were texting Matthew. Scandalous pictures of your clevage exchanged when Mathew was on a roadie, texts regarding your next visit to Florida, and he was totally convinced you lived in a studio apartment in New York City. 

You let it continue. Every trip for work, you would spend your nights, telling Mathew you were going to bed, and then ending up in Matthew’s bed. You even had the excuse in your head, their names were the same, it wasn’t like you were moaning someone else’s name during the night. You could use autocorrect as an excuse, telling your boyfriend that your phone corrected his name from Mathew to Matthew. 

It wasn't that Mathew was a bad boyfriend. He gave you love through gifts and kind words. But with Matthew it was different, everything was different. He wasn't telling you that he loved you but he cared. Mathew was soft and Matthew was rough, polar opposites. And having one was not good enough for you apparently.

Your fault in everything was never paying enough attention to your boyfriend’s career. He didn’t mind it. Mathew was fine if you missed his game and didn’t even care to watch from home. You didn’t bother asking Matthew what he did for work, but god there was just something familiar about his face. You shrugged off all the feelings though. But, you let Matthew call you his girlfriend, it was easier to say than situtionship. You told him you didn’t have a social media presence and he fully believed you. 

And I know we've never met But we have so much in common. If you don't believe me, check to see my skeleton in her closet. 

Matthew had found out through someone else. His teammate, Sam Reinhart, next to him on the plane to Dallas, scrolling through Instagram. Matthew saw your face, saw you smiling in the picture, Mathew Barzal kissing your cheek, a piece of jewlery on your finger. And his stomach dropped. 

How do you tell someone you’re the side piece? Matthew fell down the rabbit hole of Mat Barzal’s social media, finding your private Instagram, the one you claimed you didn’t have. Pictures and pictures on Barzal’s Instagram, featuring you, featuring you and him in the summers, Italian vacations, wearing a WAG jacket during the playoffs. 

Matthew’s jaw clenched, he was better than Barzal, hell his team made it further in the 2022-2023 playoffs. He was obviously better at something, why else would you be calling him every time you were in Florida. He knew it was wrong at the end of the day, he didn’t stand for cheaters, and he wouldn’t be a dick and keep his knowledge to himself. 

A couple of texts later, Matthew was granted Mathew’s number. “Hey Mathew… Hate to be the bearer of bad news… but, I think you should know this. I kinda slept with your girlfriend.” 

And I know you'll find the dirt behind The dates and times, the alibis The text she sent November 9th. I dare you, ask to read it. 

Mathew Barzal didn’t want to believe it at first. He had just proposed, everything was perfect in his opinion. He wanted to believe it was a prank. He didn’t want to think his girlfriend, who was sleeping besides him in his shirt was cheating on him. 

Matthew Tkachuk was angry, he was upset. He knew if he was in Mat’s spot, he wouldn’t want to believe it either. But suddenly everything became so clear. How he ignored the shoes in the background of your picture, how he once saw you answering a text about spending the summer in Coquitlam. How you would suddenly text him more the nights that the New York Islanders play. 

November 9, 2022 

“I’ll be in Florida tomorrow.” You had texted him. 

November 9, 2023

“You okay?” You texted when you realized he hadn’t texted you back in a while, leaving your last flirty text on read. 

The screenshots of the texts made Mathew sick to his stomach. In less than a month, he’d be in Florida, sharing the ice with Matthew. He didn’t know if he could make it through a game with this knowledge. The two boys had agreed on telling you they knew. 

Hey Ben, I'm sorry, but I might have slept with your girlfriend. I guess she went and fucked around with both our heads. 

Sweet revenge for them both came December 2. You had panicked when Mathew told you he’d be in Florida at the same time you’d be on your work trip. You couldn’t just go and sleep with Matthew at the same time you fiance was in the city. The large diamond ring on your finger suddenly feeling very heavy. 

“How about we stay at the house your company rents you?” Mathew pressed a kiss to your lips. Even though he was about to change things, he still kissed you. “In Sunrise?” you squeaked. “Yeah, it’s not that much further from our arena.” 

You felt sick the whole time, making an excuse to Mathew. He was just in town for the night, just for the Panthers game. Then he’d be gone. “I’m going to shower,” you kissed his cheek. He nodded and as soon as you disappeared from sight, he texted the man down the street. 

“Mat? Baby? Have you seen my hairbrush?” your hair was wet still, you were so focused on drying the tips of your hair that you didn’t even realize Mat had removed his duffle bag from the bedroom. And the engagement ring you left on the dresser had been removed. 

You could have laughed at everything. At the end of the day, it was your doing. “Hey baby, did you know Matthew lives down the road? He plays with the Panthers, knows Reinhart.” 

It was ironic. Your perfect life crumbling in front of you. It was your fault. Why did it hurt? The room was painfully silent as your mouth went dry and the food you’d eaten hours before seemed to be ready to exit out of your mouth. “I, I-” you stuttered, tears filling your eyes as Matthew nodded, jaw clenched. 

“Well,” Matthew’s voice boomed, “I should go, considering you guys probably have a lot more to discuss.” Matthew brushed by you and let himself out. There would be no hard feelings between the two boys. 

“Mat baby I didn’t-” 

“I’ll be back on Long Island Sunday night. I’ll pack your things.” 

“Mathew.” 

He shook his head, eyes full of tears of betrayal and hurt. “No, you don’t get to fix this. I saw the texts, I know everything.” 

“Mathew please,” you dry heaved. “Was it worth it?” Mat’s words laced with venom, “I hope it was worth it.” 

[suzukiblu]

More of the wet nurse omegaverse for @qwertynerd97. 

“Is there anything you’d especially like to eat, then? Snacks or drinks or anything else we can keep on hand for you?” Clark tries, obviously still trying to make nice with Carl, who still looks both uncomfortable with and confused by the attention. Which is an odd reaction from the kid, Bruce thinks, but maybe he’s embarrassed to engage too much with an omega who so obviously has so much more experience with pups than he does, considering that even though Clark’s got a good fifteen or twenty years on him, he’s still the one who’s an actual childcare worker. 

Or maybe he lost a litter very, very recently, and is just having trouble being around an omega mother. 

. . . well. Another omega mother, in that case. 

“Uh, no,” Carl says. “I can get my own food, it’s fine.” 

“Well, there’s not a convenient local grocery store, to be honest,” Bruce says, because that’s a bit of a concern there. “Alfred only makes the trip once a week and just shops all at once. And it’s our responsibility to feed you, you’re staying in my pack’s den, after all.” 

“So?” Carl says, looking puzzled. “I can still do it.” 

“There’s not exactly a corner store in the neighborhood, is what I mean,” Bruce clarifies. “The walk to the nearest grocery store is a good two hours from here, being optimistic. And then you’d be spending another two hours walking back with the bags.” 

“. . . uh,” Carl says. “And that’s . . . a long walk?” 

“With groceries?” Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. This kid definitely spends too much time in the gym. “Yes.” 

“Oh,” Carl says, his expression turning a little awkward. “Um . . . could I maybe hitch a ride with Alfred when he goes, then?” 

Bruce can think of almost nothing Alfred would hate more than being forced to grocery shop with someone else, but if they have to ease Carl into letting them feed him, so be it. Maybe he does have dietary restrictions or allergies and just doesn’t want to explain them, but considering he’s going to need to be eating a lot of extra calories to make anywhere near enough milk for Lor . . . yes, they’re definitely going to need to either buy him groceries outright or at least give him some kind of a budget for them. An expense account. A fucking credit card; Bruce doesn’t even care, at this point, as long as he doesn’t have to watch Clark watch his pup starve to death. 

“Sure,” he says, already planning to order the kid a credit card for grocery-related expenses, even if just as a temporary thing. Again, he doesn’t have to watch Clark watch his pup starve to death. This kid can feed himself however he wants, as long as it helps Lor. He can exist on goddamn organic truffles and saffron and caviar, as far as Bruce is concerned.

Alfred and Travers come back with exactly one backpack between them, Alfred looking mildly pained about it, and Jon and Damian come back with a ridiculously high stack of linens, Damian looking incredibly pained about that. Bruce is in genuine disbelief that neither of them have dropped any of them, then makes a mental note to go check the hall and make sure there isn’t a trail of pillows and bedsheets leading back to the servants’ quarters. 

“Thank you, boys, but you could’ve just left those in the hall,” he says. Admittedly Carl doesn’t have an assigned room yet, but . . . 

“Uh, we just wanted to bring them!” Jon says, his face turning pink in embarrassment. 

Alright. So yes, he was deliberately bringing Carl nesting materials. Or–well, maybe not intentionally deliberately bringing Carl nesting materials, but all the same. 

Well, Jon is a beta, and it’s perfectly normal for beta pups to bring nesting material to omegas, presented or not, including ones they’ve nursed from. Especially nesting material they’ve scented, which Jon very definitely has. To the degree he probably rolled around in it, in fact, which would explain why none of it’s folded as neatly as Alfred would’ve. 

But yes. It’s perfectly normal for a beta to do that, even as a pup. 

Just it’s usually something done for packmates, not childcare workers they’ve just met.

“Thank you, Jon,” Clark says, looking just barely pained for just a flash and visibly forcing himself to smile. Visibly by Bruce’s standards, anyway. 

“It’s good?” Jon asks, not quite glancing at Carl as he asks. “We could go get more.” 

If there’s that much more to get in that specific linen closet, Bruce will be surprised, which is saying something in the manor. Carl could make a fortress of a nest out of all that, though. 

“Yeah, sure, that’ll keep me for a while,” Carl says, which is definitely not a response to the standard of pack manners, but he says it while looking besotted again, and Jon still beams in delight. Carl shifts Lor to his hip and grabs his bag from a visibly pained Travers to sling over his arm, and then does another odd little juggling maneuver and somehow manages to get all of the linens off both Jon and Damian and all precariously-stacked in one arm. Bruce has absolutely no idea how he didn’t end up under an avalanche of linens or how said stack is staying up, but Carl looks unconcerned. 

Well, omegas do have a lot more experience carting around large amounts of bedding without dropping it than the rest of them do, Bruce supposes. And given that Carl’s stray, he probably gets more practice than most. 

It doesn’t actually seem to have occurred to Carl to put down Lor, though. Which–there’s no reason he needs to, admittedly, and the two of them have just feral-bonded, but Bruce would’ve preferred Lor gone back to Clark. That’s probably a little too much to expect a pup who’s been slowly starving for lack of milk and can’t be expected to understand why his new dam didn’t get milked up for him after all this time to ask for, though, so it’s not as if Bruce blames the kid. 

He knows Clark doesn’t blame him either, but he still wishes the other didn’t have to feel like Bruce knows he must feel right now. Clark is an independent and practical omega, but he still grew up in a society full of people who have certain expectations for omegas, and more than that, he has personal nursing-related trauma and is the kind of person who’s willing to take the weight of the whole damn world on himself and himself alone. 

So of course he’d be bothered by something like this, and of course he’d feel like he was letting his pup down. 

That’s really not what’s happening here, of course, but Bruce knows better than to expect Clark to feel differently, whether he understands that fact on a practical level or not.

[wrentiptoes]

I want someone to buy me pull ups at the store, come home and tell me they think I should wear them, just as a trial. After all I almost had that accident while making dinner yesterday, and the day before that peed all down my legs while I was doing dishes.

Tell me it's just for around the house, afterall I've never been *truly* desperate in public. Right? Until a month or so in, my body's gotten so used to just going at the first twinge of my bladder I wet myself in line at the grocery store. They comfort me, let me know it's not my fault, they weren't watching me close enough, I can't be trusted to know when I need to pee, I'm just a little bunny.

Start 'potty training' me at home. Sit me on a potty in front of you every half hour, don't let me up until I pee at least a little bit. Tell me I'm not allowed to go potty by myself, after all the big toilet is only for people and I'm just a little whore bunny. Put me in diapers instead of the pull ups and cut me down from every half hour to once every 4 hours. After all, if I want to wear big boy pants again i need to be able to hold it.

But my little bladder has gotten so used to never being full that I'm leaking before it's even been 1 hour. Tell me that little bunny rabbit pets shouldn't be so expensive, and that if I can't stop wasting diapers you'll get me a litter box to use instead.

Train me to hold, just a little bit. Enough to feel safe taking off the diapers, I can definitely make it to my box to go! After all there's a box in most rooms, or at least some puppy pads.

On my first day out of diapers, make me crawl to follow you, make breakfast, head into your office. Make me kneel at your feet as you sit at your desk to work. Listen to me start to whine and paw at your leg because "I need to tinkle". Tell me I can't go on my own and you're busy. When I start to squirm and grab myself, tell me if I really can't hold it on my own I can use your foot to help, after all bunnies can't use their hands. Help settle me, boycunt pressed against your foot, and feel your sock soak through. At first you can't tell if I'm leaking already or if being made to crawl around and kneel all day has really made me that wet. You can't tell until I start to hump like the pathetic little bunny I am, that only you can make me.

Listen to me whine and whimper as I grind against your foot, trying desperately to get myself off and keep from making a mess. Ignore me as I beg "please sir, i need to go, I'm gonna make a mess". Tell me I know better, that if I wreck your nice floors I'll be licking it up.

Hear the doorbell ring. Look at me, on my knees, sweating, flushed and rutting against your ankle, and tell me to get up. We have visitors after all. Grab the collar around my neck and hook the leash to it, you do so love showing off your dumb little fuck bunny. Lead me to the door, my still on my hands and knees, back arched, boycunt dripping and bladder bulging, and you, fully dressed and one sock soaked through with my slick. There's no litter box or puppy pads in your office, but there is in the entryway and I know if I can angle just right I can plant myself in the straw of the box at the back door.

But we don't go to the back door. We go to the front, to meet your visitors. You haven't told me we're expecting anyone. It doesn't occur to me to be nervous, you've trained me to trust you. Yes it's embarrassing (humilating really) to be naked and so desperate in front of others, but you've made me confident in my use and appeal as a fuck toy. The front door doesn't have a litter box. Puppy pads are easier to explain to strangers. As we round to corner I can see them. Not ideal for how full my bladder is now, but better than wetting your freshly mopped floors.

The glass door of the entry way greets us and behind it 2 of your friends. I know them too, they play at some of the events we go to. The ones I've never been brave enough to volunteer for. They've seen me mostly naked before and definitely seen all the photos of me that you have, but they've not seen this side of me. The desperate, dick drunk, cock dumb bunny in front of them. They've already seen me though and I'm starting to drip more than slick down my thighs, so no time like the present right?

I start to crawl to the clean puppy pads laid down just for me, when my leash goes taught. Tears welling I tug slightly, but it gets me no slack instead only pulling me closer to you. "Come Wren, meet my friends. They came all the way here just to play with you darling boy" and I can't argue with that, not when they've travelled so far.

So thighs pressed tight I toddle my way over to the door and you open it. They step in say hi to you first as both their friend and my owner. Formality dealt with and permission granted they ruffle my hair and tug at my nipples, gently running their hands over me and fawning at you prized show bunny. One dips their hand between my thighs and my legs slam shut. I look up at you, reduced to whines and moans, squirming as I kneel with my knees firmly together and heels pressed against my sopping boycunt. I but my head against you leg and nibble at your pant leg.

"He's soaked, you must have started without us" oh right. One of their hands is still trapped between my legs. I buck against their palm as the fondly my slick folds and little dick. My eyes clench shut as I fight to hold in any drops. They haven't mentioned the puppy pads or that the wetness on my thighs is far to much to just be slick dripping from my cunt. Maybe they haven't noticed?

The man in front of me starts to tease a single thick finger into my boycunt, teasing and caressing me. I fold over at the waist, eyes clenching tight as he gently tugs at my small cock, humming before looking back up at you "I've never seen one so small, aren't bunnies supposed to be a sign of verility?" You laugh as he keeps going, palm now resting against my dick and finger pumping in and out. The leash tugs at my neck but I know if I sit up now it's all over.

I turn my head and squint on eye open. You make eye contact with my and gasp as I loose control for a moment. A short gush of piss flows out of me as I hump against his hand, desperately trying to stem the flow. He draws his hand back, juices coating it as you respond "I thinm you'll notice Wren here is more alligned with the fertility side of things. But if he's disappointed you already I can grab his strap and he can show you just what it means to fuck like a bunny"

I shake as I scooch my way closer to you, every muscle in my body tense to try to keep the flow of piss from soaking the floor and 3 sets of socks. You tap the side of your leg and I rest my head there as your friends rise and continue their conversation. A few moments pass as I heave for breath before I feel a small trickle down my thigh and hump my hips up seeking friction to get myself back in control. You've already said I can't use my hand, but now with your friends here, can I still use your foot? I use my teeth to tug gently at your pant leg and when that recieves nothing more than you hands running through my hair, I tap my head against your thigh. You look at me from the corner of your eye before looking away. "Sir please, I still need-" I don't get very far before you cut me off. "Hush now Wren, people are talking" I whine and push closer to your thigh and you grip the leash tight in your hand, winding it closer and closer to you until I have no slack, chest pressed against your leg and hips pistoning as my knees speard around you ankle.

"Look at him go. Already got him off once and he's still so keyed up he's humping your leg right here where anyone walking by could see." At his words I look out the glass door we 'stand' in front of. He's right, anyone passing by could look in and see me drooling against your pants and stiped naked at the feet of three people. As the rest of his words process I whine "no, no!" At first it's just to mean I hadn't gotten off yet, I always need permission from sir before I can cum and I need you to know I haven't broken that rule. But as I jerk to force the words out, my bladder spasms. A spurt of urine hits the floors, spattering between my spread legs. I try to slam my legs shut again but your leg is firmly between them. My shout cause you to yank the leash, pulling my collar tight against my throat and cutting off my air for a moment.

My eyes roll as I groan and feel heat puddle against my knees, piss flooding out of me and soaking the bottom of your socks before spreading across the hardwood floor. I melt as the tension leaves my body in rivers that trickle into every nook and cranny. As the flow begins to taper off, I roll my head back on my shoulders, hips jumping as I take in 3 pairs of soaked socks. You snap a foot out to hold my hips in place leaving me with the relief of an empty bladder but no friction to relieve the orher itch growing in me.

"If you think you deserve to get off before any of the rest of us after that stunt, you're a dumber bunny than I thought. Clean up your mess and then you can start working for your reward"

[lesbesapphic]

Illicit Affairs - pt 5

A sorority leader Wanda AU

A Ride To Remember

summary- The sorority group is celebrating the success of their event and have decided for a camping trip as a fun way to keep the team spirit up. Wanda knows another way of keeping your team spirit up especially when you keep messing with her.

Warning - mean Wanda , choking, face slapping once , pussy slapping, a little bit angst at the end, dominating Wanda, bottom reader, Wanda is kind of smitten or whipped for r , Tsundere Wanda honestly, finger fucking etc

Hello Everyone!

It is literally almost Five AM here but I wanted to keep my promise so here it is. This one is really amazing. I enjoyed writing it so much. Hope you all love reading it too.

Feel free to send in your thoughts through anons or whatever about this. A humble request, please reblog since I lost my tag list i want it to reach as many old reader as possible

Also if you wish to support me and my writing in these tough times, you can through the links below. I would really appreciate it. It will help me buy groceries or reinforcement for myself. :)

Buy Me A Coffee | Ko-fi

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

"Is Everyone here? We are leaving in ten minutes so settle down, Folks!" The senior made the last announcement and you mentally went over the essentials you needed for the trip.

"This is going to be amazing! Guess what I have packed?" Darcy asked with a huge grin on her face, it made you smile in excitement as well, knowing whatever she'd pack would be fun. "What?" You asked after several moments, realising the doofus wasn't going to tell until you ask her. The habit funny yet annoying Sometimes.

"See my friends have vodka over there so we won't have to wait for the senior to designate a day for party and give us that lousy amount which is 95 percent water only." She started and you followed her gaze to her friends who waved at you two, you waved back and glanced at Darcy, not understanding why she was excited about vodka. "And I have got 'stuff'."

"Damn, really?!" You asked in the same excited tone now. Hushing down quietly, afraid people would know about the marijuana. God, just the thought of getting high gave you excitement. You remembered the first time you got high and couldn't shut up. You talked and talked and every little thing seemed so funny. Now you were actually excited.

"Stop grinning like a fool. Wanda would suspect." Darcy smacked your head and you slapped her back in reflex, but agreed with the woman and neutral your expression focusing on your bag on your lap, the last thing you wanted was to get in trouble with Wanda after that party. "Yeah yeah. So are we doing it tonight?" You asked and couldn't help but smile from ear to ear.

"Doing what, Detka?" Wanda asked walkin over from behind to where the two of you were sitting, "Nothing, Wanda. We were thinking of skinny dipping tonight." Darcy replied and your eyes widen while shaking your head 'no', knowing she was purposely getting on Wanda's nerves. Ever since Wanda had picked you from the party, snitching Darcy out in the process, Darcy was finding every opportunity to get on Wanda's nerves. Especially now that she had a little bit of Natasha's protection now, she could get away from her tiny transgressions.

"Darcy!" You spoke before Wanda could and the raven head woman only laughed, "Stop joking around." You exclaimed and shook your head at Wanda who looked at your questioningly over what Darcy had said. "Natasha is calling you. Don't try me, Lewis." Wanda spoke firmly and it even scared Darcy but her being her, she only showed a grin and peace sign before leaving.

"And you wonder, why I dislike her." Wanda stated the obvious and you laughed, sometimes you enjoyed their quarrel as long as it wasn't on your expense. "She is nice, Wanda." You defended your friend half-heartedly knowing whatever you say, they both would never like eachother.

"Of course." Wanda muttered in disdain before flicking the handle between the two seats up making it a one big seat, a mini couch basically, you watched her with curiosity as she held out her hand for you to take and you did, wondering what she was doing. She pulled you up from the seat with one pull and you smiled in amusement, her strength always amazed you.

Wanda put some blanket down on the seats and half laid down, pulling you in her lap, wrapping her arms around you as she settled in, your cheeks immediately reddened at the display of affection, you knew people didn't think much of it since they had assumed Wanda to be overly protective of her first mentee but you knew the truth and it made your heart flutter and your stomach summersaulted at her tiniest of affection.

"You comfortable?" Wanda asked and you nodded against her chest before looking up at her, "I would be more if I had my phone." You added and Wanda rolled her eyes, chuckling sarcastically at your response and you shrugged, it was worth a try. "Nice try. Not until you learn to sort out her priorities." Wanda ended the discussion and you wanted to roll your eyes at her remark but knew doing that in such proximity with her would only result in a smack on your ass and you rather not test her patience when she had already threaten to spank you in front of Carol and Natasha. Apparently, you mouth off to her when you are on your phone. You hardly agreed, you only get distracted and don't reply as politely as Wanda wishes for you to.

"That's why I am here so we can watch a movie. I don't want you to die from boredom." Wanda clarified the reason she was not with the other senior members and you nodded trying to stop yourself from gushing over the fact that she cared so much about you. A part of you still upset about the whole deal with Vision but that part hardly comes forward these days. You had chosen your poison, you could hardly complain now.

"Thank you." You pulled her down from her neck and pecked her cheek, a little closer to her lips, the action had Wanda surprised for a moment, you were too innocent to realise the affect of your actions and Wanda shook her head, pushing the thought of someone taking it in a wrong sense away, she knew that she would have to talk to you about your ways of showing affection in public. Wanda would never jeopardize her reputation or position by getting too carried away but she couldn't say the same for you especially knowing how much you disliked Vision and the whole deal you had with her. She decided to do it later, not wanting to put you in a sore mood now and played the movie.

"Did you bring the mosquito repellent cream?" Wanda asked few minutes into the movie once she noticed the people on the other aisle, putting theirs on and closing the windows as the sun started setting. "Oh Fuck." You muttered from your position on her lap, your head on her chest, cuddled extremely close as the two of you watched the movie. Wanda's hand shot out to your collar instead of hair knowing that people were still around even if not paying attention to you two, she pulled your head up from her chest and before you could apologise her hand came down on your mouth and you let out a whimper of pain, "Stop acting like my mom." You muttered, rubbing the stinging area.

"Then stop behaving like a child." Wanda replied, her eyes narrowing down on you and you knew what she was waiting for, "I am sorry, Mom." You replied in a snarky tone and Wanda rolled her eyes at you, "Careful there, I might just force you to call me mommy, since you love thinking of me as such." Wanda whispered in your ear and you blushed furiously, trying to hide your face in her chest, obviously not enjoying the idea of that very much. She laughed at your reaction and You wanted to come back with an smartass comment but was too afraid that she would fulfil her threat.

"Now go get me my bag. There are mosquitoes here already." Wanda muttered in annoyance as she ushered you up, patting your butt to make you hurry but you only groaned and further buried yourself in her. "I don't want to get up. I got comfortable with such efforts." Wanda sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, you stopped your whining to look at her wondering why she stopped suddenly. "One."

"What? Are you seriously counting?" You asked in disbelief, you knew that she knew how the counting scares you and despite that you always try your best to remain unaffected. Wanda's hand came down on your bare thigh in a smack and you cried out, "Fine fine. But wasn't our last event for nature? Isn't it cruel to deny mosquitoes thier nutritions? We would be basically denying them their right to reproduce?" You started and watched as Wanda rolled her eyes but couldn't successfully hide the smile of amusement playing on her lips.

"And come to think of it, it is the female mosquitoes who need our blood, you can't do that for a fellow sister? Isn't the whole point of sorority groups, sisterhood?" You asked and Wanda shook her head, "This is why I don't like you hanging out with Darcy, you little brat." Wanda pinched your cheek and you laughed, finally deciding to get up. "Only because I don't want you to hate Darcy for one more reason."

"What a good friend you are," Wanda said sarcastically and watched as you left to get her bag. She stretched on the bed, pausing the movie. "Are we stopping on that restaurant?" Wanda asked Jennifer, remembering the place when they outlined their route, when she got an affirmative, she smirked to herself and got up, meeting you halway down the aisle.

"Aren't we gonna finish watching the movie?" You asked slightly confused when Wanda didn't respond and took the bottle of cream from you. "I have a better idea." She replied and urged you to walk all way to the backseats with her hand on your lower back, touching your bare skin causing goosebumps to cover the area. It felt good, her warm hands. Maybe that was the reason you wore crop tops so frequently around her.

"Sit." Wanda pushed some bags from the backseat aside, making some room for you two, still a little crowded but secluded enough. You were piqued with the situation, wondering if you two were going to do something, but all hopes were crushed as you were aware of how Wanda would not jeopardize her reputation. You sat down and Wanda settled down next to you before taking out some of the cream and rubbing it on her arms in slow circles, rubbing up and down and you didn't understand why the simple act was arousing you, especially when she rubbed her hands together to spread the cream evenly.

Wanda smirked to herself, aware of your tranced gaze which was fixated on her like a moth drawn to fire. It continued for awhile, you watching her rub the cream on herself with lust filled stare and clenched thighs, when you couldn't take enough you reached forward for the cream with your hand only for it to get smacked away by her, "Wha-" Before you could finish yourself, Wanda clicked on her phone one last time and threw it down on her seat before getting in your lap. Her finger placed on your lips to quieten you and you tried controlling the urge to lick it, suck it or bite it. So many things you wanted to.

"I will put it on you." Wanda cleared it up with a sweet smile and your eyes flicked from her position on your lap to behind her where almost all the seats were empty and people were already gone, you didn't even hear that, preoccupied by the brunette. You nodded slowly and when her finger brushed your lip, your tongue darted out to lick it, earning you a sharp smack on your thigh. You stopped instantly at the pain but given a chance you would do it again.

"Good girl." Wanda murmured against your ear, licking the earlobe causing you to shudder in pleasure. You could feel the wetness oozing out of you and she had only just began. You watched as she pulled back and took a generous amount of cream in her hand, rubbing them together slowly, the moisturizer sticking to her fingers. She winked at you with a cheeky grin before placing her hand on your bare stomach, her fingers expertise in tracing from front to your back. "No funny business." She said playfully when you let out a sigh of pleasure, her fingers digging into your flesh softly.

"Wanda.." You whispered surprised that your voice came out firm with how dry your throat was. "Hmm, Baby?" Wanda asked and the use of the endearment only seemed to work on you more. You wouldn't deny how much you have started loving her roughness in bed but there were still times when you would find yourself falling for her all over again everytime she would get playful with you, tease you with that adorable glint in her eyes devoid of all the cruelness you were aware she could dish out in any given moment.

"What are you doing?" You were surprised that you were still able to form sentences when she moved to your thighs and legs, rubbing the cream there with a determine look to not miss any spot but you both knew why she spend extra time on your thighs, her fingers almost brushing against your clothed center causing you to buck your hips up. "Quit being so libidinous." Wanda's hand came down on your clothed pussy and you whimpered in pain and as well as pleasure at having her touch.

"Libi-What?" You asked her, genuinely confused at her choice of words when she was the one being whatever 'libi-dibi' she was talking about. "Libidinous." Wanda replied nonchalantly, her eyes focused on your center and you noticed the shift in her eyes as your thigh muscles convulsed under her touch. "Jesus, Your cunt is soaking." Wanda observed and you felt a jolt of arousal hitting your body at her unsolicited wording.

"Fuck me then.." You said and when she made an attempt to pick up the cream again, you decided to beg, "Please..I want you so badly. I am so wet.. only for you, Wanda please..." You didn't know what you were saying, the desperation to feel her hands on you and the constant fear of someone walking in was pushing you to limits. Wanda dropped the cream and picked out a wipe from her bag, cleaning her hands, "Take these off." Wanda almost growled as she got off you and you didn't need to be told twice as you instantly pushed the clothing down your legs before leaning forward to kiss Wanda who smacked your face away, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to remind you who was in front of you.

"I didn't give you permission to kiss me, Darling." Wanda reminded and you swallowed dryly, nodding and murmuring a soft 'sorry' and gasping when Wanda pushed you back into your seat, again getting in your lap. This time her intent was clear when her mouth attached to your neck, sucking and biting with the intention to leave marks, you moaned loudly, "Pe-People.. notice.." You let out in between your whimpers and moans, yet your hand in Wanda's hair only pushed her closer, simultaneously tilting your neck to give her more access.

"Mosquitoes.." She grumbled as she moved lower to your chest, her answer had you chuckling, remembering how she didn't like it before when you called her a mosquito while on call with Vision, quickly shaking off the thought you focused shifted on Wanda's hands, harshly squeezing your soft mound, "What's so funny, Baby?" She asked while her finger traced your areolas, not touching the hardened nub. You closed your eyes and turned your head to the side when she pinched the nub.

"Hmm?" She questioned again while pinching the other one, getting them harder and you tried jerking away from her but it didn't work as her fingers clamped down harder, "N-Nothing.." You whimpered in pain but wouldn't deny the backhanded pleasure you were recieving from her assault on your soft flesh. "Thought so." She smirked to herself enjoying the flushed state she had put you in, every inch of you was red. She loved how everything she did had a direct result on your body. So responsive.

Wanda pushed your bra up, her hand playing with your bare flesh, softly kissing your breast before sucking on your hardened nipple, slowly nibbling on the sensitive flesh at the same time moving her hand to your bare center, playing with your folds, her fingers brushing past them to collect the wetness in her fingers, "And we have hardly began, I told you, you will become my pain slut." Wanda finished her sentence with a smack to your already swollen pussy and you let out a loud cry mixed with a moan of pleasure.

Wanda pushed her fingers into your mouth to quieten you, "Shh. People are still around." You had tears in your eyes when she pushed her fingers covered in your wetness down your throat, causing you to choke on them. "So beautiful." Wanda whispered, pushing a strand of hair away from your face and you could feel yourself growing redder, "You take them in so well, such a good girl." Wanda praised, cooing at you and you wouldn't deny how your chest swells up everytime she does that to you. Unbeknownst to you Wanda had conditioned you to long for her approval and praises.

"But that's not where you need them, don't you baby?" Wanda asked and you nodded frequently, her fingers still in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, while her other hand held your face still by the back of your neck. "Fine." Wanda pulled out her fingers from your mouth and before you could resume your proper breathing, she pushed her fingers in you and you were embarassed as well as surprised by how easily they went in. "So needy." Wanda murmured as she watched how her fingers moved in and out of you as she fucked you.

You didn't know but the way Wanda was watching you as she had her way with you was making you feel shyer than your first time with her. You could feel redness seeping in your cheeks and was pretty sure that your chest and neck were a similar shade. You closed your lips and bit your lip to hold your moans but it didn't help when Wanda's other hand rubbed your clit, playing with the nub while inserting another finger in.

"Wa-Wanda." You cried out in broken moans when she picked up her place, three fingers deep in you while her thumb simulated your clit, you couldn't help but scream her name which she stopped halfway by placing her fingers in your mouth, "Shut. Up. Slut. We don't want everyone here." She growled with annoyance and you moaned around her fingers at the look she was giving you that and a curl of her fingers was enough to push you over the edge as you came against her fingers. Your thighs convulsing, your hips bucking up to ride out your orgasm which Wanda let you.

Your saliva dripped down your chin as her fingers were pushing down on your tongue, "So gorgeous." Wanda's hand on your pussy, traced the outer lips and your whimpered at the simple touch. It felt too much in the moment. You watched as she brought the fingers to her lips, tasting you. She winked when she caught your eyes causing you to blush and to look away.

"Let's clean you up, my little slut." Wanda pulled out her fingers from your mouth and wiped them on your hot and red cheeks. You didn't know if you really liked her calling you dirty names since it was always some sort of endearment with her but your body seemed to enjoy them as the heat rushes everywhere at the idea of being her slut.

You closed your eyes and pushed your head back focusing on your breathing, you were pretty sure Wanda had someone gaurding the bus, remembering the use of her phone earlier and how no one had enter or even knock in a while now. It was easier to put the two and two together. You hissed in surprise and from the cold when a wet towel wiped down on your still a little wet pussy. "Sorry, Kitten." Wanda apologised, she obviously didn't mean it but the fact she even said it was nice to hear, you thought while nodding in acknowledgement, letting her take care of you.

She would always clean you after it, at first you found it a little, you don't know the right word for it but you felt more naked than when she would fuck you. But overtime you seemed to grow a liking to the aftercare, loving how affectionate Wanda would get and how she would even listen to whatever you want after a particularly rough play. You didn't know on what level of sweetness Wanda was on after this particular time but when she gently wiped your cheeks and placed a kiss on the one she had slapped earlier, she didn't have to say. You knew she would get you whatever you wanted. Except, another orgasm maybe.

"I love you." You whispered and instantly felt your heart racing in panic. You didn't know why but you couldn't stop yourself in time. You would always say it in your head but this time you went a little too bold. Before you could die in panic or bring yourself to an anxiety attack, Wanda placed a kiss on your lips, soft and short. "I know, Detka. I know." Wanda replied and the soft smile on her lips calmed your nerves, that meant she wasn't going to kick you out or anything. It seemed to reassure you. She didn't reject you. After all she was the one who chose you over-

"Let's not think about it much right now, huh?" Wanda phrased it as a question but you knew she would get irritated the moment you dwell on the thought again and never the one to deny her of anything, You instantly drop the thought and gave her a smile, "I want a chocochip cookie." You announced causing Wanda to laugh, "Of course you do."

"Get dressed. I will see what I can do." She leaned forward and kissed you lips one last time before getting off and picking up her phone. You moved to get dressed with a big smile playing on your lips, the same lips tingling from all of her kisses. The same lips that would be wrapped around a joint later, the thought exciting you in a completely different way. You didn't even know how your subconscious connected Wanda's kisses to Weed but you weren't complaining. The trip was going to be amazing.

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[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 8.1 - i guess that's why they call it the blues

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (angst, language, sexual content, masturbation)

Word Count: 3000

A/N: still trying to work out some bugs on the taglist. thank you to everyone.

☾

Don't wish it away Don't look at it like it's forever

Between me and you I could honestly say Things can only get better

☾

New Year's Eve 1983 - junior year

You sat on your bed, wrapped in a white fluffy towel. Your hair was wet and dangling as you ran a brush through it.

Just let me know the time and place to pick you up.

The phone call was meticulously planned to occur when you were home alone, as Robin and your parents went to the store. There was nothing you disliked more than someone listening in on your private conversations. And having parents like Richard and Melissa made things such as privacy a rare luxury.

After hanging up the phone with Eddie, you had swiftly made your way into the shower. Without wanting to fully admit it to yourself, you purposely used your mother's expensive shampoo so that your hair would smell different, fancy. It was New Year's, after all. A special occasion.

Now the only obstacle was escaping your parents' watchful eyes after dinner. It was a tradition for the Buckley family to eat dinner late in the evening on New Year's. But this year, you and Robin had absolutely no intention of being home at midnight.

You wondered vaguely if Eddie's dad cared about him being out all night.

Mr. Munson didn't seem very nice on the phone when you called for Eddie. The older man was mouth breathing and irritable, like you had interrupted an important event. Which turned out to be true once you heard him yelling about Jeopardy being on.

Having unkind parents was something you understood, but still shocked you to overhear the abusive tone Eddie's father held as his only son simply got a phone call.

And then, as you were lost in thought with the brush still in your hair, a peculiar thing happened.

The phone in your room began to ring.

Knowing you were the only one home, you reached for the receiver with haste, a tiny voice in the back of your mind begging for it to be Eddie again.

But after one ring, just as the tip of your finger touched the phone, the ringing stopped. 

You were momentarily frightened as you heard a deep voice mumbling downstairs, then quickly realized that it was your father. You must not have been the only one to ditch the grocery shopping trip.

Then the fear came back, washing over you like a wave. What if it was Eddie calling you back? Your father would have a fucking conniption fit if Eddie Munson was calling his home.

In a panic, you quietly lifted the receiver to see if you could hear the voice of the caller. Normally, you wouldn't dream of listening to someone else's call - but anxiety took over. 

"...Richard, honey, come to the office for just an hour… you know I won't tell anyone…"

The sultry voice of a woman was the last thing you expected to hear. You also didn't expect to recognize the voice as your father's coworker, Kate.

Pressing your palm to your mouth and nose to stay quiet, you were unable to stop yourself from listening further, a sick feeling rising in your stomach.

Your father's voice, usually impatient and gruff, seemed almost unrecognizable as he responded to the woman.

"You know that's a risky idea, Kate. I have dinner with my family tonight."

"So come before dinner. The office is empty for the holiday. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

You almost gagged to yourself. Was this really happening, or did you never wake up from your dream-filled sleep from earlier that morning?

It didn't take much for Richard Buckley to give in. "You drive a hard bargain. I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Just don't call the house again, okay? Unless I call you first."

Not waiting to hear the rest of the unpleasant infidelity, you gently hung up the phone and rushed to put clothes on. 

Your father was off the phone and gathering the keys to his work truck when you appeared at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed. You were satisfied to see the color drain from his face.

"I- okay, now," he sighed angrily. "I thought you went with your mother to the store."

Relishing in having the upper hand in the situation, you kept a poker face and stared at him.

"Ditto."

Your father sighed again, running a hand over his thin combed-over hair. "I have to run to the office for a while before dinner. There was an… unexpected delivery."

"Okay. I'll let mom know."

You waited for him to turn for the front door, letting him think he could make it out unscathed, before adding another comment.

"Tell Kate I said hello."

Freezing with one hand gripped on the doorknob, white-knuckled, Richard Buckley didn't look at his daughter as he chose his words carefully.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Please don't make me spell it out, Dad. I could hear her on the phone."

"You must be mistaken, then. That was a phone call about a deliv-"

Tossing your hands in the air, you weren't about to be gaslighted. "Oh, come on. I'm not a child. Listen, I'll make you a deal, okay?"

Your father finally looked at you then, face red with anger at your defiance, but not an ounce of shame for being caught. This only fueled your frustration. If your father was going to play dirty, so were you.

"I won't tell Mom about this… if you let me and Robin go out tonight for New Year's. No curfew."

"Fine."

That was easy, you thought, satisfied. But what else could you get out of this?

"One more thing."

He hesitated, but still humored you, gesturing with his hand impatiently for you to continue.

"I don't want to face any consequences for spending time with Eddie Munson. No more threats of private school."

You almost laughed at your father's expression then, the reddest you had ever seen it. He looked as if he could spontaneously combust at any moment. 

But as foolish as your father was, he wasn't a complete imbecile. Having an affair with his also married coworker was something that would ruin his reputation not only with the town, but with his beloved church as well. You were almost tempted to ask him how God felt about adultery.

You didn't get an easy response like your first part of the deal.

"Listen," he spoke slowly. "You need to keep your nose out of this. Forget this ever happened. Your mother and I have private lives that don't involve you."

"I have a private life too! And I'm sick of you dictating who Robin and I can be friends with!" 

Desperate to end the conversation, Richard pointed his finger in your face.

"You are a troubled young woman. Be friends with whoever you want. But dear daughter of mine," spit was flying from his lips, face basically a tomato. "If I so much as see that Munson boy, this deal is over."

You stared him down. It took everything in you to not smack his finger out of your face. You calmed yourself, realizing that this was as good as the situation could possibly get. 

Holding a hand out to shake, you sneered at him. "You drive a hard bargain, Richard."

But he didn't shake your hand. Your father abruptly left the house as he mumbled an almost incoherent "absolute failure" under his breath.

Slumping down on the bottom stair, you trembled with adrenaline, wondering if you were the failure or if your father was actually admitting it about himself.

☾

While I'm away Dust out the demons inside And it won't be long Before you and me run To the place in our hearts Where we hide

☾

Eddie found himself in a quandary.

Later that evening, as he got ready to head out for the night, the brown-eyed boy stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a foil wrapper crinkling in his hand.

A condom.

The cliche better safe than sorry was running through his mind. But on the same note, he felt bad for assuming that you would even kiss him again. 

He rubbed his eyes, then looked at his reflection in the mirror. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark clothing. It was kind of a front, though, as his thoughts usually weren't very dark. 

Usually. 

Eddie still had plans with Jeff and Gareth before he was due to pick you up, and he considered asking them for advice about the situation. That would be fruitless, however, as Eddie was quite familiar with the extent of their experiences with women. 

Plus, you would literally have his head if you knew he was talking about you like that to anyone. One of his favorite things about you was the respect you had for yourself, the sureness with which you carried yourself. You were quiet and a little awkward, but still completely confident.

He pondered for a moment, still fiddling with the foil wrapper in his palm. Like a horrible totem representing his own crippled self confidence.

Figuring that you wouldn't even know that he had it unless you actually asked him for one, Eddie tucked it away inside of his wallet for safe keeping.

He could hear his dad stomping around upstairs as he walked back and forth between his armchair and the case of beer in the fridge. As much as Eddie liked his bedroom and bathroom in the basement, he wouldn't miss hearing that annoying stomping as a daily reminder of his dad's alcoholism.

For now, the solitude of the basement was worth it. And it held good memories regardless of the drunk monster that lived above him.

Brushing his teeth, Eddie's thoughts wandered back to the condom in his wallet. He thought about you, about your request to spend New Year's Eve with him. Him, of all people.

At eighteen years old, Eddie was still technically a virgin. Would he ever admit that to anyone? Probably not. Heavy petting make-out sessions and half of a handjob didn't exactly count as occurrences that required such contraception.

And he never really considered himself to be the kind of guy who needed to carry around a condom with him everyday. The town freak. 

He noticed attractive people, like any other teenager in Hawkins. But as of the entire last year, you were the only human being to cross his path that made him want an excuse to use a condom.

Sure, he wasn't exactly a blushing, completely inexperienced teenager. Though it had been less than a month, Eddie was still fucking shocked that you hadn't even kissed anyone before. He almost wondered if you were fucking with him, some kind of sick joke.

Deep down he knew you were telling the truth, though. Maybe he was naive, but Eddie refused to believe that you'd lie to him about something like that. Not to mention that after several years of school with you, he had never seen you dating anyone.

Eddie was curious as to why. You were semi-popular, attractive, funny. But maybe your attitude and general feisty demeanor made it clear that you preferred to be alone.

Pacing in his bathroom, the only sound was his boots dragging across the linoleum tile, the clinking of the chains on his belt. 

It didn't take long for his attention to crawl towards something more deviant. He didn't think he could ever forget the feeling of your skin as he tattooed you. The cold press of your lips on his as snow fell around them.

Jesus Christ, he needed to get rid of the tension in his body before he was physically near you.

Grabbing the lotion off the bathroom counter, he hastily unbuckled his jeans.

Already hard, he imagined groping you in the shadows, wishing it was your soft hands along his length. He wondered how sensitive you were - would you whimper if he dragged his nails gently over the most private area of your blue jeans? Would you take his hand and place it inside your panties?

He dropped himself back onto his bed, spare guitar picks falling to the floor. Flashing images of you kissing his neck, fingers pulling his hair.

It didn’t take long for him to make a mess all over his belly, letting out a sigh at the ceiling tiles where he swore he could see your name hidden in the cobweb patterns.

☾

I guess that's why they call it the blues Time on my hands Could be time spent with you

Oh, laughing like children Living like lovers Rolling like thunder Under the covers

☾

"You're late, Munson."

He smiled at you. "You know, I think that might be something you'll have to get used to. I'm incapable of being on time."

It was just after eleven at night, only an hour before the New Year, as you scrambled into the passenger seat of his warm van. Rubbing your hands together in front of the vents, you turned your excited eyes to him as he drove away from your house. 

He was dressed in his usual dark attire. From the glow of the streetlights, you could see his devilish grin as he lifted a cigarette to his mouth.

You were just about to tell him how gross the cigarette was when you heard the song playing on the radio.

"Oh! Turn it up, will you?"

Lifting an eyebrow at you, Eddie twisted the volume dial. "Journey? Are you serious?"

"'Separate Ways' is my all-time favorite song," you stated matter-of-factly, tapping your fingers on the window sill. "So, where are we going?"

"I'd tell you it's a surprise, but it's not really all that surprising. We're going to Lovers' Lake."

Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him. 

"That's very original of you, Eddie. Isn't it all frozen over this time of year?"

He flicked the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. "Yes, sunshine. A huge, frigid heart-shaped body of water. Just like my own heart."

You smirked to yourself. "Yet another perfect place for you to finally murder me."

"Not quite yet! I have a warm van, a six pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and some blankets in the back."

"You literally just described the exact van that murderers drive around in."

Eddie laughed at your morbid sense of humor. "Does it help at all that we'll have the best view on the lake? My friend isn't at his cabin tonight, but he said it's cool to pull my van up to the shore by his boathouse."

Pretending to think hard for a moment, you shrugged and smiled. Then, you shocked Eddie by nonchalantly placing your palm on his leg, like it was something you did everyday. 

"I guess that makes up for all these homicidal red flags."

☾

Stare into space Picture my face in your hands

Live for each second Without hesitation And never forget I'm your man

☾

"So, how do your parents feel about you being out so late?"

Eddie helped you wrap yourself into a blanket cocoon and then handed you a beer. He watched as you took a drink of it, shivering slightly, before responding to him.

You were curled up close to each other in the back of his van, legs dangling out of the open rear doors. Eddie made sure to blast the heat in the front so you wouldn't get too cold, but he could still see your breath in the brisk winter air around them.

"Oh, the usual. I'm a sinner. A disappointment. An absolute heathen, disgracing the Buckley name."

He stared at you, his can of beer paused halfway to his mouth. "Did they really say that?"

You snorted. "No, but my father might as well have. My mom's just an idiot who goes along with him."

"Do they know you're with me?"

"Yes," you replied simply.

When Eddie stayed quiet on the matter, you asked some of the lingering questions in your mind.

"How does your dad feel? He didn't sound very happy when I called earlier."

Taking a long sip of the cold beverage in his gloved hand, Eddie seemed to wince at your query. He glanced out at the frozen, dark abyss of Lovers' Lake and then peered over at you.

"I doubt he even noticed that I left the house."

You fidgeted in the blanket and awkwardly adjusted the fluffy hat on your head. "I'm sorry, Munson."

"Don't sweat it. He's just an asshole. I think I'm going to move in with my uncle this summer, though. After graduation."

You were surprised to hear this. "Really? Does your uncle live far away?"

Eddie didn't miss the slight panic in your words, his heart instantly swelling as he realized that you worried he was moving away from Hawkins. Still, he wasn't going to pass up the chance to tease you about it.

"Well, well, well. Are you going to miss me? Is Miss Buckley breaking away from her infamous emotionless exterior? Do I see the hint of an actual soul in there?" 

He burst out in laughter as you punched him playfully on the shoulder. 

"C'mon, Eddie. If you weren't around, who else would tolerate me?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll tolerate you all the way from Forest Hills Trailer Park, sunshine."

Your shoulders dropped a little in relief. "Oh. That's not far at all."

"Nope."

The conversation went quiet for a while, a comfortable silence forming between the two teenagers. You rested your head on Eddie's shoulder, feeling his hair tickle the side of your cheek.

It didn't go unnoticed by either of you that, without directly saying it, you both wanted to spend the upcoming summer together.

Eddie continued to sneak glances of his watch. Midnight was slowly approaching.

☾

Wait on me girl Cry in the night if it helps But more than ever I simply love you More than I love life itself

☾

(song lyrics credit: "I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues" by Elton John)

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[sophiethewitch1]

UwU any spoilers for the next chapter,,

I have meant to do this multiple times but keep forgetting so here's an extra long snippet in apology! It's basically the entire start of the next chapter ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite passtime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.

There’s an up close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.

While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.

You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.

Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.

You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.

…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but yours business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and geniune mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still wanted to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.

They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.

Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.

Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight, or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.

The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s excercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.

You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.

You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson, and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.

…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.

He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room, and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unneccesary comment.

“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven’s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his tone stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.

Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Per chance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?

You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.

“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his thirst traps have been used in a lot of my personal-”

You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense.