#had a weird fucking day and i'm not looking forward to the follow up about it

[aphrogeneias]

more than seven minutes — one-shot

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after you spend nearly a week completely avoiding your best friend, he takes matters into his own hands. and if that means locking you into a room with him until he makes you talk, then so be it.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: smut (+18), fluff, friends to lovers, forced proximity, love confessions, mentions of a sex dream, dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, dirty talk

author's note: another reupload! this is the only steve fic i've ever written, or rather, the only one i started and finished. not sure if i really write steve that well, but i tried <3 this has a part two and will be uploaded soon too.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Don't you trust us?"

From your left, Robin's faux exasperated tone had you throwing her a mean side-eye. Her girlfriend, Vickie, on your right, giggled, "I don't think she does, Rob."

It wasn't that you didn't trust them. On a normal day, you would trust those two with your life, but given the circumstance you recently put yourself into, you couldn't help but be suspicious.

They'd found you hiding — or trying to, at least — at the back porch during another one of Tina's house parties, which were getting more and more boring to you, but you needed an escape, and cheap beer with some questionable company would have to do it. 

You were sitting with another one of your friends when Robin and Vickie, appearing seemingly out of nowhere — confusing you immensely because they'd be two people you wouldn't expect to find at Tina's on a Friday night — took your plastic cup from your hand and pulled you by the arms to follow them.

Dragging you along, each one linked to your arms from both sides, passing in between the crowd of bodies gathered in the living room, occasionally having to push a drunk jock out of the way, and guiding you up the stairs, into the upstairs hallway. They moved fast, the people around you passing by like a sea of blurred faces.

You were thrust forward when you reached one of the doors, and were pushed inside by Robin, who flashed you an apologetic smile, shrugging, "I'm sorry!"

"Robin!" Yelling over the loud music that bled through the walls, you could hear giggling from the outside, as well as the sound of a key being turned in doorknob. Your heart raced as you slowly realized what was happening, "Vickie! What the fuck?"

You knew who was behind you without even having to turn around.

Taking in your surroundings, you could tell it was a guest room, untouched by the madness going on downstairs and in the hallway. Sitting on the neatly made bed, above the soft pastel bedding, Steve Harrington looked like a kicked puppy, brown eyes following your every move from where you stood, still at the bedroom door, unsure of what to do.

He was the first to break the silence, "So… now I have to resort to kidnapping you in order to have a conversation with my best friend?"

Leaning back into the cold wooden surface of the door, you tried to sound as unbothered as possible, knowing very well you were about to crack. "I wouldn't call that much of a kidnapping. Your henchwomen are a little too clumsy for that."

When Steve didn't answer you, merely raising an eyebrow, unamused, you tried again. "So, uh… what is this, exactly? Seven minutes in heaven? You know this isn't seventh grade anymore, right?"

"No, if it was seventh grade you would still be talking to me and not acting all weird for a whole damn week and not telling me why!"

"I'm not acting weird…"

"Bullshit! You are avoiding me like the plague and I need to know why."

You weren't avoiding Steve.

At least, that's what you had told him the first time he confronted you about it, almost a week ago. He had showed up at your house, unannounced as always, with a new film he knew you'd love and a bag of popcorn and candy, walking in as if it was own place — and it was, in a way, more of a home than his own has ever been. You made up an excuse about how you were sick and didn't want to get him sick as well, ushering him out of the house with an apology and the promise of a raincheck on your movie night.

After that, he'd been calling you, asking what was wrong and why were you avoiding him, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the truth. You'd told him it was nothing, you were sick that day, then you were busy, and then… you were running out of excuses.

The truth was that you couldn't look your best friend in the eyes anymore.

Sighing, you looked down at your feet, shuffling in place, "It's nothing, Steve. I'm just confused about… something, but I promise it has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong, it's just, just a thing that happened." You stuttered.

There was a shift in the air, the tension dropping in the atmosphere as Steve's expression lightened, suddenly focusing entirely on you. He rose from his place on the bed and walked over to you, his body crowding your personal space. 

"Hey…" You felt a hand gently hold your chin, forcing you to look at him, warm brown eyes searching for yours. "I'm not mad at you, okay? I'm just worried. We used to tell each other everything and now you're acting like this and I don't know what to think."

Overwhelmed by Steve's closeness, his smell and the heat of his body invading your senses, and his hand moving to cradle your cheek, distracting you from gathering your thoughts, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. "If I tell you, do you promise you'll stay not mad at me?"

"I don't think I could ever be mad at you, Y/N."

With a deep breath, you walked away from him. The nearness, the feeling of his hand on your skin brought you vivid memories of the exact reason you were pushing him away.

"Ihadasexdreamaboutyou."

"A what?"

"A sex dream! I had a sex dream about you and I'm embarassed enough as it is, okay? I know it's weird, but we can't really help what we dream of, you know? It's like our brains produce images using the faces of people we know but it doesn't necessarily mean anything…"

"I get it! I get it, you don't need to explain yourself, I promise." Steve interrupts your rambling, you're still avoiding making eye contact with him, but you notice a light shade of pink take over his face. Silence fell over the room, both of you still trying to come to terms with what you'd just confessed.

"What was your dream like?"

He was closer now, you realized. There was something different in his eyes, a look you'd never seen before — far more intense, pupils blown wide. An electric current grows between you, like a live wire, ready to explode. It didn't help you stop thinking about the Steve in your dream, looking up at you with those same eyes, hands hungrily exploring your naked body.

It was all you could think about in the past few days — and then, there he was, warm and real, right in front of you, your Steve.

"Steve…"

"Please? I'm curious. It can't be that bad."

Turning around, you stared at the wall instead of having to look at him, feeling flustered all over. "I don't remember a lot of the details, but, uh… I think we were on my couch and we were… I  was riding you, I think." Letting out a nervous laugh, you gathered the courage to turn again, pretending to not be affected, "Crazy, right?"

"Not that crazy. Coming from you, I was expecting something a little more shocking." 

You laughed earnestly then, feeling some of the tension leave your body. "Yeah. Screw you, Harrington."

Steve started taking a few tentative steps forward, and instinctively, you took some backwards, until your back hit the wall behind you. Leaning in, those same dark, hungry eyes lowered to your lips, and down to your cleavage — you felt vulnerable under his gaze, but not uncomfortable. It felt right, even though it made your skin prickle. "Can I ask you one more question?"

"Yeah." You breathed out.

One of his hands trailed along your waist, keeping you still as the other rested beside your head, on the wall. This was a line you'd definitely never crossed, even with Steve being as affectionate as he was, always keeping at least one hand on you. Not even in the many times you'd shared a bed and woke up tangled in each other. This was different, heavy with anticipation.

"Did you… touch yourself… thinking about this dream of yours?"

It felt like your head was spinning. Despite yourself, you drew in a sharp inhale, "Do you really need to know that?"

"Only if you want to tell me." His voice was gentle, much more restrained than the wild look in his eyes, barely keeping himself together. "But something tells me you do."

Steve wasn't blind to the effect he had on you, especially up close, where he could feel your heavy breathing, watching the way your body responded to his. Throwing every caution you had out of the metaphoric window, you finally looked him in the eyes, bringing him closer, and resting your hands on his broad shoulders.

"What if I told you that I did? What if I told you that I had my fingers inside of me thinking about how good it would feel if I was bouncing on your cock instead? How would it feel to have you run your hands all over me while I do it? Is that what you want to hear?"

Like the cat who got the cream — or the guy who got his best friend to confess how badly she wants to fuck him — he smirked, now holding you with both hands around your waist.

"Any chance you want to make that dream come true, baby?" 

"If King Steve is offering, who am I to refuse?"

"Shut up."

Snaking a hand up your back, raising a chill up your spine, and holding the back of your neck, his mouth descended on yours with a deep kiss. It started clumsy, all teeth and uncoordinated hands, two friends who dared cross a line they'd never return from. Steve took control, then, leading you towards the bed, and laying you on top of it, his hands never leaving your body as he climbed on top of you.

"You should have told me about this earlier. Could've helped you out, you know." He said, in between kisses, descending his mouth to your jaw, and down to your neck, his tongue eliciting tiny gasps from your gaping lips, "You were driving me insane."

His hands travelled under your shirt, after yanking it from under your skirt, finding your covered breasts. Too eager to feel you, he felt you up over your bra, squeezing and caressing his thumb over your nipples. Between Steve's hands and his kisses, you were left breathless under him, seeking whatever release you could get, grinding your hips against his thigh, which was resting between yours. You could feel your cotton panties cling to your wet folds, slick with desire.

"I think you're the one driving me insane here." You whined, biting his lower lip and dragging it just slightly. Steve's eyes darkened above you, and you felt his hands lower, slowly, to the hem of your already bunched up skirt. You watched as he sat up on his knees and removed his polo shirt, revealing his broad chest, and feeling the sudden urge to run your hands over the tuft hair and the smattering of freckles covering it.

"Consider it payback, baby."

They stopped at the waistband of your underwear, and stilled, as he asked, brown eyes as gentle as ever, almost whispering, "This okay?"

"Yeah. Please."

Lowering his head, he left kisses over your thighs as he brought the fabric down your legs and off your body, his hot mouth leaving a trail of small teeth marks and spit that warmed you to your core. There was an underlying devotion in Steve's touch, a reverence he always treated you with — like you were something precious, something worthy of praise. It set you alight under his expert fingers, running over the soft skin of your parted thighs.

Wasting no more time, Steve licked a long stripe over your weeping slit, flattening his tongue. You dropped your head to the pillow beneath you, not being able to stop the moan that rose on your throat. One of your hands reached to grab his hair as he alternated between flicking his tongue over your clit and sucking on it, groaning into your pussy like he was enjoying it just as much as you were. His strong hands grabbed your thighs and pulled you further into him, burying himself into you, his nose touching your clit as he delved his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it.

A litany of moans filled the room, along with the filthy, sloppy sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy. You felt delirious, skin burning and grinding yourself shamelessly into his mouth, meeting his movements. 

"Isn't that better, honey?" He teased, bringing a finger down to your entrance and into you, stroking your walls in a torturingly slow pace, making you pout as you kept moving your hips, "Better than fucking yourself with your tiny, little fingers? You could have had this instead of hiding from me."

Mumbling something incoherent, you could barely keep your thoughts together as you felt him add a second finger into you, pumping them faster this time.

"Louder. Let me hear you."

"So much better. You feel so good, Stevie, so fucking good. Please don't stop."

At that point, you didn't care how whiny you sounded. Steve didn't seem to care either, shifting between your legs to wrap his lips around your clit again, matching his languid thrusts as he curled his fingers inside of you, building up the tension in your core, your pleas of "faster, please!" rising from your lips.

He obliged, looking at you with hooded eyes. You meet his gaze as you cry out, feeling your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing into you slowly, and then all at once. He keeps his fingers moving as you ride it out, breathing heavily, and running your hand over his messed up hair, much gentler this time.

"C'mere, baby." You called, voice a little weak from exhaustion. Steve leaned over and you met him halfway, supporting your upper body into your elbows, and kissed him. Deep and slow, savoring the taste of his tongue, still stained with your juices, making you dizzy with uncontained lust, and, quite frankly, an overwhelming feeling of possessiveness, as if you had just marked him as yours.

After spending years watching him pine over Nancy Wheeler, and throw himself into date after meaningless date, it felt only fair.

Not you'd ever admit this to him out loud.

Distracting him with your kisses, you manage to take control, flipping him over, and mounting him, straddling his hips. Steve doesn't stop missing you, however, bringing his hands to rest over your hips and guide you to grind your exposed pussy over the tent on his jeans. You could almost feel him pulsing under you, bringing a new jolt of pleasure through your body, making you run your nails over his chest.

Quickly undoing his belt, and his zipper, you bring his pants down, just enough to free him from his boxers, feeling his length warm and heavy in your hand. He pants under you, his eyes rolling back as you tease him with your fingers, lightly, before running your thumb over the delicious vein on the underside of him, all the way to his already weeping head.

Before you could do much else, you heard a hard knock on the door, followed by barely hushed giggles.

"Are you still alive in there? Do we need to call the police?"

"Go away, Buckley! Jesus." 

Steve groaned at Robin's interruption, running his hands over his face, flushed with frustration. You release him from your hold, chuckling a little at his outburst. Leaving a kiss to his nose, driving his attention back to you, you ask "Your house isn't too far from here, right?"

"Yeah. Your point being…"

"I think we should take this party somewhere a little less crowded."

Humming deep inside his chest, Steve leans up, pecking you on the lips, "Now you're speaking my language."

[teaspacebar]

spiced chai

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

summary: you've been living in chicago for about a year, and you're suddenly managing the coffee shop in the well beloved bookstore, nan's. you meet carmen berzatto on a not-so-good day. you're thrust into the everchanging societal landscape that is making friends in your 20s..

word count: ~9.7k

warnings: language, depictions of mental illness, barista!reader, afab!reader (but tried to be as neutral as possible), neurodivergent!reader, they don't kiss, could be read as platonic tbh but there's crumbs in there if you look, takes place over the course of a few months, probably doesn't follow canon fully (i'm not caught up yet forgive me)

a/n: *dumps this here and runs* but actually this piece of writing appeared in my brain and i've been picking away at it for a couple of months. i feel like i've put more of myself into this fic than with anything else i've written, so this is definitely more of a self insert (pls be kind or don't read if that's not your vibe). i'm queer, non-binary, and autistic and i just wanted to insert that into this space. i feel like there's more to explore here, so i might write more for this if i feel so inclined.

Meeting Carmen Berzatto was not on your to-do list for Tuesday morning.

Not that having to run down to the nearest corner store to grab milk - since the milk fridge was on the fritz…again - at 4am was in your plans either. It always seemed like one step forward, three giant leaps back with the little shop on the corner you basically called home. It was weird, to be thrust into leadership as your manager made an abrupt exit. 

The small bookstore, with an even tinier coffee shop, had been your place of work for the last year or so. You loved it. The people were great, and Nan, the shop owner, was absolutely lovely. She was getting up in her years, but the genuine care she had for the employees made all the difference. She put her trust in you to run the cafe, saying “You have the experience, and the care you have for people shows. I know this. Everyone knows this. Now you just have to see it - have confidence.”

“Confidence my ass,” you mutter, carrying five gallons of milk around the corner.

What happens next might have been considered the beginning of a rom-com, but you’re a realist, and the world is shitty.

There’s a crash, and the distinct sound of three of the five gallons of milk dropping onto the sidewalk. You stare, watching in slow motion as the milk forms into a river, dripping off the sidewalk into the gutter.

The person who ran into you curses, “Shit — fuck, sorry, I—I wasn’t looking where I was…dammit.”

You grip the other two jugs in your arms, blinking out of the haze to let out a hysterical laugh. “Great…cool cool.” Cold plastic bites into your fingers, and you take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, what else was gonna happen?” You finally look up to see the one you collided with. The man looks extremely uncomfortable, foot tapping like he wants to bolt. Plastering on a smile you shake your head, “It’s fine. I’m the one who thought carrying five gallons of milk would be fine.” You ramble on, trying to ease his nerves, “I mean — why would I drive, like, thirty seconds. Park, get the milk, come all the way back. Seemed stupid…but now there’s milk in my socks.” You grimace, fighting the urge to chuck the remaining jugs of milk in the street so you could also hurl your milk-soaked shoes and socks after them. It makes the ache in your chest sharpen.

“Here, where are you —“

You cut him off, “No, no, it’s okay. I got it, thank you.” You gesture to the door that’s just a few feet away from you. “This is me, anyway.” You adjust your hold on the milk, brushing past the man to pull open the door. You catch it with your hip, not daring to look back as you head behind the counter. You release a sigh, setting the bane of your existence on the black speckled marble. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. You shake out your arms, biting your lip. “Okay, asshole, let’s get your shit together.” You quickly put the milk into the small fridge below the bar and walk to the back. The squish of your socks curdles your stomach, and you breathe through your mouth to avoid the smell. You take off your shoes, throwing them into a plastic bag to take home. Tossing your socks into the garbage, you grab your replacement sneakers and socks from your cubby. It wasn’t the first time you’ve dropped something on your shoes, it wouldn’t be the last.

You take your time in the back. You had gotten to the shop around 4am, unable to sleep. You were messing around with recipes, seeing if there was a possibility of baking some of the food in the cafe fresh, instead of outsourcing. It was something you put on your own plate, and you didn’t want to disappoint Nan. You had shown up early, looking to try out some muffins, and noticed the fridge had been hovering at sixty degrees all night. You’ll have to grab some more milk before the day starts, but that could be a problem for 8am you.

Walking through the swinging doors, you jump as you see someone at the bar counter. Pressing a hand to your fluttering heart, you finally take in the man that had run into you earlier. A mop of curly hair on his head, white tee, very blue eyes…and standing behind eight gallons of milk.

“Um…” you look between the milk and him a few times.

“The…uh – the door was unlocked. Figured I owed you one.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“How’d you even get it all here?” 

“Made two trips.” His gaze snaps back to you as you laugh, this time more genuine. “Fridge go out, or somethin’?” You’re still staring at him like he has two heads, and he rambles on, “Sorry for just…barging in. I used to go to this place…when I was kid. My sister and I would grab whatever pastries they had left for the day. And, yeah, we’d just sit, read random shit. I work at the restaurant just down the street…’s why I ran into you. Wasn’t paying attention – sorry, again.”

Suddenly, it all clicks. “You own The Bear.”

“Uh, yeah – yeah, I do.”

You feel nervous, out of the blue. Nan hadn’t stopped talking about the Berzatto’s, and Natalie had become a regular while the restaurant was being remodeled. You’re sure you’d seen other employees come in as well, for reading material. You vaguely remember talking to a very sweet man about baking, as he carried a ton of cookbooks in his arms.

You knew Carmen Berzatto, but only through the words of others – and the research you did late one night because you were nosey. To have him standing in the bookstore you worked at, for him to have gotten you milk, is sending you for a loop. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you begin to put the milk in their new home. You really need to call the refrigerator guy again. 

“That’s so cool,” the words fall from your mouth, others staying in your head. 

It's insane that someone like him is even speaking to you. He’s around the same age as you; He owns a restaurant and you’re barely able to run a tiny coffee bar in a bookstore. You’re an idiot who dropped milk onto the sidewalk. Why didn’t you just take the car? You should’ve just taken the car. Now Carmen fucking Berzatto has bought you milk at 5am because he feels bad for you. How pathetic. Call the fucking refrigerator guy.

“Thanks…for the milk.” You back away from the counter, gesturing behind you, “Lemme grab some money from the cash box real quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s really fine, you didn’t have to go out of your way. I’ll be right back.” The itch creeps its way up your spine, and you push through the door as a shudder passes through you. You shake out the twitch, going and grabbing the cash box. You do mental math, trying to see how much you should give him. Did he even need the money? “Idiot,” you chide yourself. Today was not the day for your brain. 

Snagging a twenty and a ten, you rush back out to the bar, only to find the store empty. A groan escapes through your teeth, and you clench the cash in your hands, crumpling it. You walk to the front door, peering out to see if you can spot the chef. He must’ve made a quick getaway. As you turn to get prepped for the day, you spot a brochure on the counter, far away from its home of the stand at the front of the bookstore. Eat Your Way Through Chicago! 

Scribbled on the front is a phone number, and the words:

Fridge  Ask for Fak Say Carm sent you

“Fucking fuck.” You whisper, a smile creeping on your face against your will, “Asshole.”

It’s later in the week when you hear the bell attached to the front door – ding! You poke your head up from where you're arranging some alternative milks under the counter, seeing a familiar blonde.

“Hey, Natalie!” You pop up, an easy grin appearing on your face. “Half-caff?”

She nods, “Please.”

“How are you?” 

“Oh, you know.”

You ring her up quickly, then grab a pitcher to steam some milk for her latte. Natalie walks away from the counter to browse some books. The steam wand whirs, and you watch the vortex inside the pitcher. You touch the sides every so often, waiting for it to get to the right temperature. Making drinks is all muscle memory now, and you tamp the espresso grounds into the portafilter with precision. Wiping the excess from the lip, you lock it into the machine and press the shot button. As the shot pulls, you wipe down the steam wand with a wet cloth. 

“Is this any good?” Natalie has come back over, holding up a book with a half-naked man on the front.

You laugh, “It’s a Nan recommendation, so…” The shots are poured into the paper cup, and you swirl the milk into it, doing a quick tulip design. You sprinkle a little cinnamon over the top, before placing it in front of the woman.

“Smutty then, for sure.” Natalie laughs, then does a little excited gasp when she sees the latte art. “It looks so good every time!” 

“Thanks,” you reply, “Gets covered by the lid, but it’s fun to practice.”

“Too bad you don’t have for-here mugs,” she says thoughtfully.

“Ever the idea-haver! There'd be more spills to clean up – Nan would lose her mind if any books got ruined.” You point to the book still in her hand, “You want me to ring you up for that?” It was early enough in the afternoon that the only other person here was a part-timer, Jack, somewhere between the shelves stocking books. You had convinced Nan to upgrade to a different register system (which ended up saving money in the long run), so you’re able to ring up both books and café products at your register. 

She shakes her head, sighing. “I barely have any time to read, these days. I was thinking about trying out audiobooks? I used to listen to them at my old job, but it’s way too loud in the kitchen for that to work out.” The latte goes to her mouth, a pleasant hum leaving her as she takes a sip. “You’re the best.”

“Thanks, Natalie.”

She squints at you, “It’s Nat, c’mon.” A big conspiratorial grin makes its way onto her face, “So, I heard that you got some help with your fridge.”

A sharp pain twists in your chest. “Oh, um…yeah.” You let out a soft chuckle, “It’s working, which is great. Neil was a big help.”

“He said you made him the best hot chocolate he’s ever had,” Natalie taps the counter with her pointer finger twice. “Said he didn’t know how you got his number, though.” 

You shrug, wiping down the counter, “Nan had it. And the usual guy wasn’t calling me back.” Neil had told you the exact same thing, both about the drink and the number. Something had held you back from saying where you got the number from. Embarrassment, maybe? It felt weird, feeling like you owed anyone favors, or that things would be unbalanced. People usually never give without looking to receive.

“Frankie, right? He’s an asshole. Overcharges for everything.” Natalie doesn’t push you for answers, something you’re grateful for.

“Right! He disappeared one time and said he’d ‘be right back’ and then was gone for like, two hours! And he added that to his hourly!” The two of you giggle at the shittiness of people for a minute, when a ping causes Natalie to pull her phone from her pocket.

“I should run.” She reaches into her purse, and puts a five into your tip jar. “Thanks again!” 

As she turns to go, you call out her name. “Would you - maybe - I have some extra muffins. The place we get them from gave us some of the wrong ones…or they’re a tad over baked, or something. I can’t sell them. Would you wanna take them with you?”

“That’s so sweet of you! Yeah, I’m sure they’ll get eaten up.”

You grab the box of muffins, handing them over to her, “Thanks.”

“Thank you, babe.” She leaves with a smile, and you look down to brush the flour off your apron. 

“Hey, guys, I got some goodies!” Natalie sets the box of muffins on the table, where everyone is seated for family meal. 

Neil immediately grabs the box, pointing to the sticker on the top, “You went to Nan’s? Man, I could use a hot chocolate right now.” 

“I’m sure you can walk over there and order one, my love.” Natalie replies, waving for him to put the box back on the table.

Marcus snags two muffins, handing one to Sydney who is sitting on his right. Taking a bite, he stops chewing, eyebrows raised. “Dude,” he nudges the girl next to him.

“Dude,” Syd parrots, popping some muffin into her mouth. “Wait, woah.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” 

“Nat, where did you get these?” Sydney calls to the woman now sitting at the end of the table. The muffins are passed down the rest of the table.

Marcus has started dissecting the muffin, “Macadamia nuts, sick.”

“Oh they’re from Nan’s just down the corner!” She tells them how you offered them to her since they were the wrong ones from a vendor and possibly over-baked.

Syd snorts, “Over-baked? These are perfect!”

“What’s perfect?” Carmy walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Bear, come eat!” Natalie waves him over, pulling him into the seat next to hers. “You’ve been at it all morning, take a minute, okay?” She gives him a look that tells him not to argue, and he huffs in response, but does as she says.

“What’s perfect?” He asks again, taking the muffin box from Sweeps as it’s passed to him. As the cinnamon crumble topping hits his taste buds, he leans back in his chair. “Shit.”

“That’s what we’re saying!” 

Syd and Marcus begin talking over one another, the dull roar of family making its home in Carmy’s ears. He has another bite of muffin, thumb swiping over the sticker atop the box.

Nan’s Books & Brews

Simple lettering, surrounding a doodle of a coffee cup sitting on an open book.

“When did they,” he clears his throat as he leans closer to Nat, “when did they start doin’ stuff like this?”

Natalie purses her lips, “Not sure, honestly. They only had that small coffee machine and that plastic pastry case when we were growing up, remember? I think they added the actual coffee bar right before Covid?” Carmy nods, looking out the windows, a curdle in his stomach.

“A lot’s changed,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nat sighs, a hand over her stomach, “a lot has.”

A few weeks go by, as uneventful as they can be. You try out more recipes, and the staff of Nan’s is always sent home with one treat or another. Muffins, cinnamon rolls, croissants (which were a bust), and the like. Natalie is still a regular, and Neil has shown up to save your ass more than once. The brochure with his number on it taunts you from where it’s stuck up on the corkboard in the back.

Which is what has led you to standing in front of The Bear, a joe-to-go in one hand, paper bag in the other. An envelope burns in the inner pocket of your flannel jacket. Steeling your nerves, you knock on the door. Some yells are heard from inside, nicknames getting passed around like it’s a holiday dinner. You see a man walk towards you, in a nice suit, and he opens the door.

“Can I help you?” It’s not said unkindly, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s making you nervous. 

“Coffee delivery?” You say sheepishly, holding up the coffee traveler by its cardboard handle.

“Richie, who’s at the - hey!” Natalie immediately smiles when she sees you, and you sigh a breath of relief. Things were easy with her; she had this amazing way of comforting you without even trying.

“Hi,” you wiggle your fingers, still keeping hold of the objects in your hands. “Wanted to say thanks for all the help Neil’s been giving me, and when Nan found out, she insisted I bring over some coffee for the team, so…”

“You workin’ at Nan’s?” The guy - Richie - asks.

“For the past year or so, yeah.” You reply, thanking Natalie as she grabs the paper bag from you.

“Let them in, Richie, c’mon.” She presses on his chest, causing him to back up with his hands in the air. “Come in! I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to come by for a tour.” You follow behind her, taking in the layout of the place. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a sense of awe falls over you. She has you set the coffee traveler on the bar, letting you take the paper bag from her hands. You pull out a cup holder with two cups in it.

“One half-caff french vanilla latte for you and…a hot chocolate for Neil.” As if by magic, Neil pops through the door to the kitchen.

“For me?!”

You chuckle as he pulls you into a hug. When he pulls away, he grabs his cup with a happy sound, rushing back into the kitchen when “Fak!” is yelled.

“The fuck Fak get a coffee for?” Richie frowns, causing you to bristle. Natalie swats at him, beginning to explain as you continue to walk around the restaurant. As you pass by a wood table, your fingers tap on it, the sound echoing in your ears. It sends a shiver through you, and a small smile appears on your lips. 

Natalie calls out to you, tearing your gaze back to her. People have begun to swarm around the bar, placing food on it, and your coffee is suddenly surrounded by things that smell amazing. “Did you want to eat with us, babe?” Attention turns to you, and the itchiness in your limbs reappears with a vengeance.

 A tall man, wearing a beanie, grins, “Hey, those muffins were amazing, by the way.”

You sputter, “Oh. Um—“

“Tell the chef, or baker — whoever,” he laughs at himself. “They were fire.”

Warmth rises in you, “Yeah, I’ll pass it on.”

“Babe, lunch?” Natalie says again, louder this time. More of the staff have begun digging into their meals.

“No, it’s okay!” The corner of your mouth curves up in a small smile, this one less genuine than before. You begin to back up towards the door, a gnaw of guilt in your gut as Natalie frowns. 

“Cousin! Food!” Richie yells out, followed by laughter from everyone else.

“I’m coming!” A familiar figure bursts through the kitchen door, “You don’t gotta yell like an asshole.”

Carmen Berzatto stops in his tracks when he sees you; the envelope in your pocket burns hotter. You look down at your shoes, but they just remind you of the milk dripping down the sidewalk.

“Carm,” Natalie introduces you, “they work at—“

“Nan’s.” Everyone chimes in, and you have to stop yourself from flinching. You look over at Carmy, eyes meeting.

There’s a moment where you feel like you’re going to get swallowed whole. The pipes are going to burst and water will fill up the room and you’re going to drown.

You walked straight into a den of hungry beasts, and you’re just a measly rabbit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Natalie’s words are muffled in your ears, but you manage to shake your head.

“I have someone from books covering me, and they barely know how to work the espresso machine.” You force a laugh. It grates against your vocal chords. “It was nice meeting you guys, though.” With a meek wave, you turn on your feet and speed out the door. Rounding the corner, you keep walking until you’re sure they can’t see you. Veering into the alleyway behind the restaurant, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the brick. 

You press your thumb into the palm of your hand. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. It’s over before it starts, but your chest remains tight. A reminder, which will eventually dissipate once you're back in the shop.

The coffee bar, your shield; apron, your armor. 

A door opening causes you to jump, startled. Your eyes meet blue, widening like you’ve been caught. “Sorry! I was just–” You push off the brick.

Carmen seems just as surprised as you, “No, s’fine.” He clears his throat, as the two of you settle into silence.

A fwip of a lighter. Four seconds. An exhale of smoke.

You’re unsure if you should leave, but it’s like the bottoms of your shoes are stuck to the ground. “Did you-” He starts, lifting up his hand that holds a lit cigarette.

You shake your head, “No, but - um, thanks.” Your fingers twitch, and you reach to pull the envelope from inside your jacket. Something that appears so insignificant, held out in the space between you. When he just stares, you wave it a bit, until he takes the envelope with his free hand.

“What’s this?” 

“Cash, for the milk you bought.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“I did.” You bounce on your heels, “I should actually get going this time. Just wanted to give you that but…” He doesn’t respond, something you’re getting used to. You wonder where the man who rambled about reading with his sister at Nan’s went, but decide now is the best time to make your escape. As you start to walk toward the street, you turn, “The restaurant looks great, by the way. Good luck with the opening.”

“Good luck with the opening.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

"Let it rip, Bear."

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“-a complete waste of fucking time.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“I’m really sorry you feel that way, Carm.”

Natalie invites you to Friends & Family.

You don’t go.

The next month flies by. Marcus, Richie, and Syd have joined your little group of regulars. Richie even brings his daughter, Eva, whenever he’s able. She’s a joy and absolutely hilarious to have around. Richie has grown on you, the rough edges of him softening after a few cortados.

One night, he had rushed into the shop, Eva in tow, all but begging you to watch her for a few hours. He was supposed to be off for the day, to spend time with his daughter, but they’re understaffed at The Bear. A few weeks in, which confused you, but questions weren’t asked. You said yes - obviously - and had Eva help you with little things around the shop, until you close. The two of you bonded over a shared love of Taylor Swift while making muffins. By the time Richie came to pick her up, Eva was tuckered out in a loveseat, patchwork blanket tucked up to her chin.

“I owe you one,” Richie had whispered, holding his daughter in his arms.

You shook your head, “You deserve to have time with her.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, bring it up with the Bear himself.”

You weren’t planning on it. The man is barely on your mind. Except for every time someone from The Bear walks in. They look drained, more and more each day. It’s a certain type of pain, to watch people – that once had so much life in them – lose the light that you felt so harshly the first time you walked into the restaurant. You hear inklings; mentions of a changing menu every night, nonnegotiables, and the like.

It worries you. It’s not your place - you’re more than aware of that. But you’ve come to care for these people. And by extension, some part of you wants to see how he’s doing. It’s an odd - biting -feeling. How strange it is, to know someone through everyone else’s eyes but your own. You have to fight back the urge to force yourself into the places you do not fit. You’re resigned to watching from afar, providing comfort behind your coffee bar. It’s what you’re good at. It might be all you're good at.

Some sick twist of fate decides to upturn it all one Friday night.

Carmy had stayed late, to nobody’s surprise. He’d been adjusting the menu, preparing it for tomorrow, when the flashes hit him. He decides to walk it off, popping another thing of nicotine gum into his mouth. He walks aimlessly, trying to push the overwhelming thoughts out of his head. The street is dark - most places being closed - but light pours onto the sidewalk, just a few feet ahead of him. Almost a reflex, he peers into the windows.

A laugh of disbelief - more a huff of air through his nose - leaves him.

You’re dancing, headphones over your ears, as you mix something in a large bowl. It’s unlike anything he’s seen - from you or otherwise. There’s a sense of freedom in your movements, so different from the few times he’d seen you before. The tightness in his chest lightens, some, at the sight of you so obviously in your element.

And you're looking right at him.

“Shit,” he mumbles. You tilt your head at him, doing a little wave. He lifts a hand in reply, and you point haphazardly at the door. Before he can respond, or walk away – anything, you’re heading around the counter. A click of the door unlocking, and you pull it open part way.

“Hey,” you say, a little loud. With a wince, you pull the headphones off to rest around your neck. Music can be heard – a muffled, upbeat song that he doesn’t recognize. “Hey,” you say again, quieter this time. Silence passes between you, and he watches your nose twitch. “…did you wanna?” You jut your thumb behind you. You’re almost unrecognizable from the first time you met, calmer, somehow.

“Yeah, sure.” The words come out, easier than he thinks, and slips through the door you hold open. You lock it behind him, turning back around to slide behind the counter.

You grab a muffin tin, beginning to fill each one with a scoop of the batter you had been mixing. You make quick work of it, pushing them into the small commercial oven, wiping your fingers on the towel that’s pulled through a loop in your jeans.

Leaning against the counter, you finally look at him, “Okay, Pick your poison.”

“What?”

“Coffee? Americano, latte, cappuccino?” It’s like you’re trying to read him, wanting to crack the spine of a book and see what’s inside.

“I don’t really do the…caffeine.”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your fingers on the counter in some type of rhythm. “Can I make you something? Low-caffeinated, of course.” He nods. “Anything you hate?” A shake of his head.

You grab a cup and get to work. You’re singing under your breath - the song that’s playing from the headphones around your neck. With your eyes off of him, he takes a moment to actually observe the shop. Warm lighting, with dark wood bookshelves making it feel cozy without being too claustrophobic. There’s smaller tables, with different recommendations for certain genres. A sprinkling of string lights and hanging plants just adds to the homey feeling, one so different from the pristine, white kitchens he’s used to being in. So different from his own restaurant. The coffee shop portion is close to the front, dark marble countertops and a chalkboard menu - swirling letters describing monthly drink specials.

“Alright, order up,” you call out softly.

Carmy walks back up to the bar, eyeing the cup. Warmth presses into his skin as his fingers curl around it. You mention that it’s hot, to let it cool for a bit. Silence falls between the two of you - in a way he finds comforting. Your eyes flick between him and the counter you’re wiping down.

“Do you normally do this?” He asks.

“The making drinks thing, or the staying at the shop way too late thing?” You give a wry smile. “Could ask you the same.”

He scratches at his nose, “Noted.”

The minutes pass; you go about cleaning the shop, rinsing dishes and setting things up for the next day. It’s an art he’s well versed in. The muscle memory takes over for you, and Carmen becomes invisible. It feels nice, to just be in a place where nobody has anything to ask of him. He finally tries the drink. It’s good, milky, if a little sweet, but it eases the last of the sourness in his stomach away. A timer on your phone goes off, and you tug on a flowery oven mitt to pull the muffins out of the oven. Chocolate and spice invades his nostrils, soothing him even more. You grab one, hissing a bit since it’s hot, and put it on a plate, bringing it back over to him. Leaning over the bar, you reach for forks that are in a metal cup, right near Carmy. You’re close, with no care about being in his personal space. It’s only for a second, and then you’re back in your previous position.

“You can have some, as long as you promise not to be an ass about it.” You hold out a fork for him. The words cause him to cringe, but he takes the utensil from you.

He stares at the muffin, running his thumb on the underside of the fork. “How much trouble am I in?”

You shrink back a little, “W-what?”

He’s met you what - twice? Both times felt clunky, an awkwardness to the both of you. Here, it’s simpler. Under the cover of night, huh? A voice that sounds awfully like Mikey’s says in the back of his mind. His family won’t stop talking about you. Or drinking your coffee.

“The Bear,” he mutters. “They talk to you, right?”

You laugh, surprised. “Do you actually want to know?” You hold up a hand before he can reply, “Actually, no. They don’t talk to me. I see things, sure. But I’m not getting anyone in trouble with the boss.” You’re on the defensive, not even for yourself, but for his kitchen.

“They-They’re not in trouble.” One look from you and he deflates, sighing. “Okay, yeah. Just…just say something.”

“I haven’t even been to eat there.”

“You should come,” he says.

Another laugh - a scoff, more-like, “You think I could afford your place?” You bite your lip, pinching the bridge of your nose. After a moment, you continue, gently, “Do you have any fun?”

“Fun.” The word is like poison in his mouth.

“Yes, fun. I know that food service isn't the best, but it’s good to have fun, or to at least enjoy it.” You wave your hands around, “That family meal stuff you guys do? That’s so sweet, and you have a whole family unit going on in that kitchen, or whatever. If this restaurant is supposed to be the rest of your life, you should like it, at least a little bit, right?” Your torso melts into the counter, and you rest your head on your arm. “And like, maybe? Don’t change the menu every night, or something. It’s new, right? You gotta work out the kinks first before jumping in all-” you blow air out through your cheeks.

A beat of quiet, then, “The menu, huh?”

“Eleven thousand for butter?” You parrot back. At his frown, you hold up your hands, “I’m just a barista, what would I know?” You say it without heat, and yet he feels guilt crawl up his throat.

“That’s not-”

“I know, Carmen.” A sigh leaves your lips, “You asked, so I talked. Again, take everything with a grain of salt.” The words get softer, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him, “Just remember who’s going down with you if it ends up crashing and burning.”

You stab your fork into the muffin, tearing it in half. He follows suit, lifting a bite of it to his lips. Spice floods his taste buds, and he grunts. You blink up at him, fork hanging from your mouth. He’s suddenly starving, and he eagerly gets himself another forkful. “S’good.” He mumbles through the food. Carmen watches as you process his words, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. You two finish the muffin, and there’s an ominous sense of peace that covers him like a blanket. “Thanks.”

“For yelling at you?”

Carmy lets the chuckle spill out, “If that’s what you call yelling…” He trails off, sobering, “Do you have fun?”

You hum, contemplating. “Yeah. I mean, it’s coffee, at the end of the day. It’s just nice to see people, to make their day a little better than it was. I like to try out new things, to create, to get recommendations.” You stop, seeing him staring at you, “What?”

“You’re different…from the other day, s’all.”

You’re perplexed, scrunching your nose, “Well I had a bad day, the first time. And I don’t do…well, with new people.”

“Unless you’re behind the counter.”

Your eyes widen, something flickering behind them, like he’s seen something you didn’t want him to. “Touche.” Checking your phone, you clear your throat, “Alright, we should probably get out of here if we want any semblance of sleep.” He follows your lead, as you flick off the lights, throwing you backpack over your shoulder. He waits while you lock the front door, small key dangling on a keychain. You turn, looking at him, before holding out a paper bag, “Muffin for the road?”

He grabs it, an odd feeling bubbling in his chest, “Oh - uh, thanks.”

You suddenly look sheepish, fiddling with the strap of your bag, “And if you’re out late again, feel free to stop by. If you need a break, or something.” A beat. “Oh, again, take what I said with a grain of salt, yeah? Just - maybe - try to take care of yourself a little.” You laugh nervously, and Carmy sees the truth of his earlier observation. You’re still more relaxed, but the nerves have crept in as you step outside your comfort zone. Something he knows all too well. “Anyways, have a good night - morning.” You shake your head, blowing a raspberry through your lips.

“Night. Get home safe.” He murmurs. You turn on your heel, walking down the street. He tightens his grip on the paper bag.

Take care of yourself.

At least enjoy it.

You should like it, at least a little bit, right?

Carmy doesn’t know if he truly remembers what liking cooking is like. He’s found little bits of it, in moving back home. In Marcus’ eyes as he creates something new. In Syd’s determination to make amazing food. There’s a passion there that he’s lost somewhere along the way.

He sees it in you, and it calls out to him - the tide being pushed and pulled by the moon. A curious feeling, gnawing at his stomach. A hunger for something he can’t make sense of, but he pulls the muffin out of the bag to eat on his walk home.

Carmy keeps showing up at Nan’s, usually late at night. You didn’t expect him to take you up on your offer, yet a smile graces your lips every time he does.

He was right, when he said you feel most comfortable behind the counter. You knew it, but having someone else acknowledge it felt…weird. Like you weren’t playing your part right. Yet it also felt good, to be seen.

Conversation between the two of you still feels stilted, occasionally, but you find comfort in the quiet moments. And the not-so quiet ones; with music playing at just above a reasonable level, you mouthing the words as you dance around behind the bar. The mask slowly slides off when he comes around, and it’s easier to be goofy.

You think it surprises him. He’s not quite sure what to do, when you’re cruising on the linoleum tile you call a dance floor. But he never tells you that you’re weird, or too much. You’ve maybe even seen him bite back a smile. You swear there’s dimples hiding somewhere — a fleeting thought that you let fly away before you linger on it too long.

“What do you think?” You’ve turned the music down, notepad on the counter, your favorite pen in hand. You click it a few times, sound satisfying the little itch in the back of your brain.

“Not sure if I’m a matcha fan,” Carmy murmurs. You nod, writing down his response onto the paper. It’s almost filled — you’ll have to turn to the next page soon — with different drinks you’ve had Carmy try, determined to find the right one. He’s harder to pin than others, something you’re not necessarily surprised by.

That's partially on you. You're unsure of how much to ask. How much could you poke the both metaphorical and literal Bear until it breaks? You've been enjoying your time, but you've yet to ask him how work is going. He doesn't ask you about your personal life, so why would you ask about his?

There's a curiosity there, though. To see what makes Carmen Berzatto tick. You fear the two of you might be a little too similar.

You turn to go back to cleaning your mess — the reason being a fresh tray of cookies cooling on the counter, when he says your name. “Did you get a new tattoo?”

Gaze flashing to the wrap you have on your arm, peeking out from the sleeve of your shirt, you turn bashful. “Oh,” you hum, “I did. It’s been on my list for awhile. I’m keeping it wrapped at work while it heals - god knows I spill everything all over myself.”

“Can I — What did you get?” He’s just as sheepish as you, a boyish glow about him. You’d never talked about tattoos before. His evidence is on his arms; yours are mostly concealed — easy to hide with the oversized button downs and jeans you wear.

You pull your phone from your back pocket, “Here, I’ll pull up a photo of it.” Placing your phone on the counter, Carmy grabs it, zooming in on the two-headed calf that’s found its home on your bicep. The tattoo is fresher in the photo, line work popping out against your skin. “The longest living two-headed calf lived 17 months. Her name was Gemini — a little on the nose, I think. There’s also this poem by Laura Gilpin, that just kinda struck me.” Your ramble tumbles off, a half smile pulling at your lips. “It’s sad, but the kind that makes you hurt in a nice way? If that even makes sense.” You wave a hand around, then reach to take a sip from his cup.

The matcha settles the nerves hiding under your skin, the earthy flavor dancing on your tongue. As you set the cup back on the counter, you point at his hand, “What’s that stand for?” Your own fingers twitch, fighting the urge to brush them across his own. “S.O.U?”

“Ah, sense of urgency.” He says, fiddling with your phone.

You laugh, quickly covering it with a hand, “Sorry, I — sorry, that just makes so much sense.” Before he can speak, you shake your head, “Not in a bad way, necessarily. It’s just so obvious how little work-life balance you have.”

“We’re literally at your shop in the middle of the night.” Carmen huffs exasperatedly, corner of his mouth curling up.

You hold your hands up, conceding, “Okay, I get it. Misery loves company - or whatever. God, we’re both crazy, aren’t we? We should get out more.”

He hums in response, tapping his phone twice to check the time. Anxiety swells up in your throat, and there’s something biting at your heels. The silence doesn’t feel comfortable anymore.

You said something wrong, the little voice in your head whispers. You lost the script and got too close and now he’s pulling back. How can you fix it? You have to fix it.

“What’s your favorite one?” His blue eyes glance up at you. Invisible hand squeezing your lungs, you stammer, “Tattoo. What’s the one you like most?”

His words come out softly, “A house boat. I, uh, got it before leaving Copenhagen. I stayed in one while I was over there, and put out water for an invisible cat.” Relief floods you as he talks. It’s the most he’s spoken about anything, and you see a glimmer behind his eyes.

It feels a little too close to home.

“You really loved it over there, huh?”

As if caught, he clears his throat, “It was cool…different.”

Different from Chicago, you don’t say. “I get that,” you murmur instead.

You knew what it was like, to run away. The need for escape pushing you into flight as the metaphorical dog chases the rabbit.

You wonder what Carmen’s dog was. Or is. If it’s even a dog at all.

“What about you? What’s your favorite?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts. “Oh! Um, it’s silly.” You worry at your bottom lip.

“You don’t—”

“No, hold on, it’s just,” you push yourself onto the counter with the palms of your hands. Carmen leans back as you swing your legs over the bar, letting your feet rest on the barstool next to him. You lean over, pulling up your pants leg to show the tattoo on the right side of your calf. He stares at it for a moment, confusion clear in his gaze. “See, I told you.”

“Is it a moth, or something?”

“Moth-man, Carmen. Mothman.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“He’s a cryptid. There’s literally stories of a Chicago Mothman.” He peers up at you in amusement, causing you to scrunch your face at him. “I swear on my life Carmen Berzatto, don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not.” He laughs, and your chest loosens. You got Carmen Berzatto to laugh. “It looks good, the style is nice,” he gestures to your leg.

You smile, “Thanks.”

Nodding, he goes to sip from his cup. He makes a face, pulling it away from him, “Yeah, I don’t like this.”

He holds it out to you as you reach for it, laughter spilling from your lips, “More grass for me.” You drink, and let the cup rest on your thigh, fingers tapping on the plastic lid.

“I’m not…” Your head turns to look at him, watching as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not really good at this.”

“...at what?” You whisper, scared if you talk any louder you’ll scare him away.

“Talking? Not working? Who the fuck knows,” his hand leaves his hair and passes over his face.

“I’m not either, really.” You pick at your jeans, “But we’re trying, right? You come by more than I thought you would.”

“Really?”

You snort, “Dude, the first time I was surprised you even came in.” Gently, you add, “And you don’t have to be perfect at conversation to be friends with someone.” His eyes meet yours as you nudge his shoulder with your knee. “I’m weird, you’re weird, that’s okay.”

Carmen rolls his eyes good naturedly. His legs are bouncing, and you can almost see him chewing the word around before it finally leaves, “Friends?”

“Friends.” You affirm. Silence passes between you, until a growl comes from your stomach.

The man laughs, looking all the prettier for it, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groan.

He gets up from his seat, grabbing his denim jacket that’s hung over the chair on his left, “C’mon.”

It takes a moment, but it clicks. “Oh my god,” you gasp out, hopping off the counter. With a speed you only have during a lunch rush, you run to the back. You untie your apron, hang it up on a hook, and grab your tote bag. “Wallet, keys, phone…phone!”

“Out here!” Carmen yells. You grin, rushing back out to the front, bouncing on your heels. “You good?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You shake your keys with enthusiasm. He laughs as you both leave, and you turn to lock up. There’s excitement buzzing through you, like caffeine would if your brain weren’t wired a bit funky. A thought cuts through the haze, “Oh shit, I forgot to–”

“I got the trash.” The street lights reflect off his blue eyes.

Your heart twinges a little, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He gestures with his head, “Now let’s go before your stomach eats itself.”

“Hey Carm?!”

The man pokes his head into the office, one hand wrapped around the door, “Yeah, what?”

Natalie raises an eyebrow, “You busy?”

Carmy scoffs, “Yeah, Sugar, I’m busy.”

It’s lunch time. Marcus has pastries, Tina’s running prep. Syd is around…avoiding him. He tries not to think about it for too long. Richie is who knows where.

Fuck, don’t be an asshole, asshole.

Deflating, he asks, “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I’m spending my hour of alone time figuring shit out here, while Pete watches the baby.” His sister sighs, glancing down at the paperwork on the desk, “I’m managing. Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

He wants to ask about the baby. His niece. But Natalie barrels over the topic to say, “Were you here late the other night?” He must have made a face because Natalie sighs, exasperated. “I know you stay later than everyone else, doing god knows what, but I got a notification on my phone the other night-“

“What notification?”

She rolls her eyes, “The alarm system, dummy. I get alerts.”

“No, yeah, I get that. But I turned it off.”

It could only be from the other night, when he brought you back to the restaurant. He’s not sure why he did — he almost had a panic attack in front of you while debating what to make. It's strange, how much an environment can affect someone. Nan's feels so comfortable to him now, like nothing can happen to him when he's in those four walls. Where was the last place he felt like that?

You don’t need to impress anyone, Carmen. It’s just me, you had said.

Simple words that cut through him like a knife. You asked for comfort food, so he made you grilled cheese with tomato soup. The little dance you did every time you took a bite relit a fire inside of him that had been burnt out by years of working in kitchens.

“I know. I’m asking because the alarm was set, and then you turned it off again a few hours later.” Natalie unlocks her phone, showing him her screen that has some app pulled up with timestamps on it. “Are you sleeping? Look, I know things aren’t great right now—" Natalie cuts herself off with another sigh.

“It’s fine. Things are fine.” At her pointed look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m working on it, okay? Just…are you good? Do you need anything?”

“About 48 hours of interrupted sleep would be great.” Her gripe falls off into a laugh, which he returns.

Stepping into the room further, he pulls the door closer, just a slim crack of clean white light coming through. “I’ve been a shitty brother lately.”

“No…” Natalie snorts, “Okay yeah, a bit. I love you, though.”

He mumbles the words back, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, “Maybe I could come by, sometime. See the baby.” It’s a blessing and curse how his chest aches when he sees the way her eyes light up.

“I’d love that, Bear.”

“Yo, delivery!” Marcus yells out, pulling the attention of the Berzatto siblings.

“The fuck?” There isn't supposed to be a delivery today.

Natalie gets out of her seat, “Oh thank god.” She ushers Carmy out of the office, pushing past him into the dining room. He follows after her, confused, only to stop in his tracks.

You’re here.

You stand next to Richie, talking animatedly, albeit shy. You’re wearing clothes he doesn’t regularly see you in, the worn denim jacket catching his eye in particular. It’s clear that you aren't working, yet you hold two cups from Nan’s in your hands, a few drink carriers littering a table.

“You’re literally my savior, thank you.” Natalie pulls you into a hug, and you look at Richie with wide eyes. Carmy has to hold back a snort at your expression.

“You should expect this reaction by now, kid.” Richie takes a sip from his drink when you gape at him in exaggerated outrage.

“Shut up, Richie,” Natalie is barely paying attention, saying the words more out of habit. Grabbing a cup from a drink holder, she says, “You’re coming home with me.”

Giggles bubble from your lips, and you go to cover them with the back of your arm. There’s a pull Carmy feels, instinctual, to urge your arm away from your face and hear your genuine laughter fill the room.

Your eyes meet his, finally noticing that he’s there. The smile you give him is earnest, a gentle hello without words. He forces his feet to move, closing the distance. Carmy blatantly ignores the looks both Richie and Natalie are making. You hold out the cup in your hand - the one you weren’t drinking from - and he takes it from you.

Condensation clings to the sides, his name hastily written on the side.

⋆⁺Carmy!⁺˚⋆

There’s a heart in place of the dot at the bottom of the exclamation point, little stars doodled around his name. His stomach flips.

“Iced?” He swirls the drink in hand, mixing it up.

You shrug, “Thought I’d try something different. It’s hot outside.”

“You off?” Bringing the straw to his lips, he hums at the taste. You’re watching him eagerly, head tilted to the side as you wait for his review. “This is nice.”

Squinting at him, you huff, “Not perfect, though.” You type something into your phone — most likely to add to your notebook later. “Had to run some more syrup by the shop. Saw Natalie’s car on the street so I texted her to see if she wanted something to drink. I have errands to run after this.”

“You a regular too now, Cousin?” Richie barks, and Carmy watches as you remember where you are. Who you’re with.

A protectiveness rises up in Carmen, hating the way you recoil into yourself. “Fuck off, Richie.” He looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Dude, we got shit to do.”

“Richie!” Natalie hisses at the older man, shoving him back toward the kitchen. She calls back to you, “Thanks for the coffee! I promise I’ll come by when I feel more like a human again.”

The customer service clicks into place behind your eyes, “Take care of yourself! Hope the baby is doing well!” Once it's just the two of you, you sigh, knocking the heels of your boots together. “I should get going.”

Carmen nods, “Can I grab you a sandwich, first?”

“Grilled cheese?” You tease, stifling a smile.

He huffs, shaking his head, “Nah, but Ebra’s got window right now. I could throw something together real quick.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He glances down; you’re pressing your thumb into the middle of your hand. It's uncanny, the semblance of himself that is mirrored in you.

“I know.” He wants to, though. “Give me five minutes?”

A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

“Cool.” And he’s off.

Chaos erupts the minute he’s back in the kitchen.

“Since when did the two of you become buddy-buddy?”

“Can we please get back to work? Richie, respectfully, what are you doing back here?” Syd is working on pasta, flour covering her work service.

“I got shoved outta my space, so here I am,” Richie waves his hands around.

The overlapping voices turn into white noise, and Carmy inhales sharply, “Fak!”

“Yes, chef!” Neil appears out of nowhere. Sometimes Carmen thinks there’s a series of underground passages that makes it so easy to get ahold of him. It’s not that crazy of a notion.

“Go and say hello to them, okay? I’m gonna throw together something, give it to them, and then I’ll be right back.” The last part is meant for everyone to hear, but is pointed more toward Richie. “Seriously, just leave it, alright?”

“I’m leaving it,” Richie snarks, but nudges Fak with his elbow. “Think there’s a drink out there with your name on it anyway. Snag me another one of those apple-donut-things too, eh?”

“Fritters!” Marcus calls out from his station.

Carmy sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s queasy; he’ll have to take some pepto later.

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

Let it rip, Bear.

Neil barrels into you, wrapping you in a hug. He talks your ear off for the next couple minutes; you smile when you need to, laugh when you remember.

The yells from the kitchen are playing on repeat in your ears.

They’re talking about you.

The urge to flee tickles the back of your throat. You thought it would be nice to stop by and bring Natalie a coffee, but then you had felt bad about not bringing anything for everyone else, which turned into you jumping behind the bar to make ten drinks. It’s not like you were going to make Morgan, the barista on shift, make them all.

You always had a hard time not working on your days off.

“You should absolutely come!”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You reply, still not fully checked back into your conversation with Neil.

He smiles, “Great! I’ll send you the info!”

Before you can ask what you actually agreed to, Carmy pushes back into the room, to-go container in hand. “Hey, uh, Fak, can you go take a look at the toilet for me?” You barely notice Neil leave, focusing more on how your chest releases as Carmen walks closer to you.

He hands you the container, and you murmur a soft, “Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you out, yeah?”

The thought is nice. Glancing behind him, you see Natalie and Richie watching through the window. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to.” You take a step back just as Carmy reaches out to you. You can’t run, they’d see you. Ask questions. They probably see a caged animal.

“Hey,” he whispers your name, “it’s just me.” He’s repeating the words you said to him the night you were here. You tear your eyes away from the kitchen, looking at him. “Lemme walk you out?”

With a nod, you let him guide you out the front door. The warm summer air washes over your skin, and you take in a deep breath. You count the lines in the sidewalk as you pass them, sipping at your iced latte. “It was cool of you to come by,” Carmy says. “And your jacket’s dope.”

He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Did you just say dope?” You peek over in his direction, catching his shrug. “You’re so old.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, and your smile widens.

You make it to your car, a little thing that has a new problem every other week. It’s been with you for years, moved with you to five different states. More of a sentimental object, than a real mode of transportation. You mostly used CTA these days if you were able, but it was nice to have a car for when you’re running errands all around the city.

“Sorry if they bothered you,” he apologizes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no,” you push out the words, throat tightening, arms hugging your middle. “I thought I was going to try to be a human today. May have jumped the gun on that one.” Fiddling with your keys, you continue, “It was nice to see you. Thought you might be a vampire or something, since I only ever see you at night.”

The joke causes Carmy to roll his eyes, “Is that considered a cryptid?”

You perk up at the word, “Oh, don’t get me started.”

He smiles big enough for his dimple to appear, “Oh, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to talk for hours on end. I’ll make a power-point presentation and everything.” You might already have one in the works, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You could - I mean, it wouldn’t bother me. If you did, you know?”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. He looks shy, almost. Like the first time you met him, but there’s something between you now. A plant that will keep growing - might even bloom - if the two of you keep watering it. He keeps pecking away at your carefully crafted walls that let people see exactly how much you want them to.

Carmen Berzatto keeps seeing you. Whoever that is.

He coughs, scratching the side of his head. “I’ll see you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.”

You walk around to the driver’s side of your car, opening the door. You slide in, turning the key to let your car sputter to life. You roll the windows down, and music starts to blare from your speakers. “Kick ass tonight!” You yell the words as you pull away from the curb. You spare a glance in your rearview, watching Carmy wave before he starts walking back to his restaurant.

When you're parked outside your apartment, it hits you. You dig into your tote bag, pushing aside old receipts, chapstick tubes, and fidget toys. You cheer to yourself as you pull your notebook out, favorite pen hooked over the cover. Flipping to the back, you stare at the list of drinks you've had Carmy try.

You think you want to keep seeing him, too. Whoever that is.

You scribble at the bottom of the page, circling it twice.

Spiced Chai ~ HOT, xtra cinn

[thegempage]

i Want to draw but i have a feeling i could Maybe play a game and i'm. hmm.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 5: The Answers We Wait For

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

I'd go back in time and change it (but I can't)

(In which a writer's busy schedule somehow still had time for her favorite obsession)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 7.0K (it's very on-brand that my busiest week would produce the longest chapter)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Happy Monday lovelies :) How I managed to pull this off is between me and God at this point but here we are. I know it's been an interesting day to say the least, so I'm hoping me living up to my promises can be a silver lining. Quick note that I already fucked up the timeline at some point and Paige Olivia have actually been divorced for almost 3 years. I'll change that eventually. I actually didn't even try to really edit this chapter and in the choice between editing tomorrow and giving it to y'all today, I chose the latter. So please help a girl out and point out my typos/mistakes if you spot them and I will also eventually go back and edit. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forwards. Have a lovely week my loves <3

December 2027

Marriage and weddings had never been at the forefront of Paige’s mind. To be completely honest, for most of her life, there wasn’t much occupying her brain other than the court under her feet and the basketball in her hands. But the couple of times she had let herself picture it, she’d always thought that she’d have a Fall wedding, probably in Minnesota, maybe even on a basketball court. An indoor winter wedding in Texas had never once crossed her mind. She’d imagined vibrant fun bouquets made of pink lilies and purple hydrangeas, not the elegant red and white roses arrangements that were currently being placed along a far too heavily decorated aisle. Instead of vintage wines and carefully constructed fancy cocktails, she’d thought it would be nice to have spiked shirley temples and maybe even blue and white jello shots. She had expected to have a quiet ceremony followed by a vivacious gathering of everyone she loved. It had never even occurred to her that her wedding would become a public spectacle with People's magazine in attendance.  She’d pictured a party, not an event. 

Most of all she’d dreamt of getting married to a girl with dark eyes that could see all of Paige’s flaws and a soft smile that promised she’d love Paige despite them all. 

But the thing about dreams is that they’re fleeting trains that travel through the tracks of your mind when you’re asleep, and when you wake up, reality is nothing but a devastating train crash. 

Paige sighs, forcing herself out of her own head, as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. She looks pretty. Brittany had found her a nice white wedding suit -fitted to perfection- matching it with dainty silver jewelry. Paige normally liked her outfits a little looser but Olivia loved it and Paige likes that Olivia loves it. Her hair is styled in a bun, with two straightened strands to highlight her face. She thinks she might have preferred to have them curled in the front but Olivia had sweetly insisted on them being straight because hers would be curly and they had to complement, not match. Paige doesn’t really understand the difference or the importance but she thinks if Olivia wants it like that then she's fine with it. She thinks the bold red lipstick heavily coating her mouth makes her look a little bit like a vampire out of a badly directed 90’s horror movie but Olivia had said it was necessary so that the lights and cameras didn’t wash her face out. 

Paige looks pretty. She just doesn’t really look like Paige. 

“What do you think Drewski?” she asks, twirling to face her stone-faced brother who’s sitting on the couch, with a bout of enthusiasm that rings hollow to her own ears, “do I look gorgeous or what?”

“You look weird,” Drews says stiffly and Paige sighs. 

“Dr-” Paige is cut off by her younger brother sauntering over. A confused expression spreads over her features as Drew takes her hand and places it on his forehead, “uh- what are you doing?”

“Paigey, doesn't my forehead feel hot? I feel so sick,” the little boy whines, letting out a series of overzealous dramatized coughs. 

“Your forehead feels fine,” Paige says, slowly removing her hand.

“Well of course you’d think that. You’re not a doctor who knows how to feel foreheads correctly. I think we need to go to the hospital to see a real doctor. Like right now,” Drew pulls at Paige’s hand as she begins to catch onto what he’s trying to make happen. 

“You’re fine Drew.”

“I’m NOT. I’m very, very, very sick. So we have to leave right now. I could be contagious. I could be a danger to all these people,” Drew’s animated hands start to fly everywhere, “you can’t get married when your little brother’s sick. It’s- it’s just wrong. Bad juju or something like that. Everybody will understand that you just had to call off the wedding. For family reasons.”

“Drew-” Paige tries again, a hard pit settling in her stomach. 

“Are you worried cause you didn’t bring your car? That’s okay I’m sure Ice or KK will drive us but you can’t get married today Paigey. You just can’t,” his bottom lip trembles as the façade of illness slips and Paige feels her own eyes start to get glossy, “it’s not right Paigey. This is all wrong. She’s all wrong.”

“It’s not like that Drew. You just haven’t gotten to know-”

“I don’t want to know her,” Drew yells, “you don’t even know her. How can you get married to someone you’ve barely dated for a year. How can you do this to Az-”

“That’s enough,” Paige’s voice is eerily calm, as she digs her fingernails into her palm, “watch how you talk to me-”

“You’re being stup-”

“Drew Thomas I am not going to repeat myself again. Behave yourself. You’re not nearly old enough to be questioning what I do with my life,” it takes every inch of self-control Paige has to not let her voice shake. 

Her younger brother’s words feel like acid rain pelting against her already wounded skin. They slip into the gashes, mixing into her bloodstreams to create an army with the battalion of her own thoughts that have been hacking away at her heart for god knows how long. Paige wonders how long it’ll be before she finally bleeds out. 

“Please don’t get married Paigey,” Drew pleads, gripping his sister’s hand, “please.”

There’s nothing but silence as Paige opens and closes her mouth. And she doesn’t know if she’s trying to get words out or breathe air in; all she knows is that Drew might be squeezing her hands, but it feels like someone is strangling her lungs. 

She’s saved from having to say anything by a hesitant knock on the door. As Drew begrudgingly goes to open it, Paige scrambles to put herself back together. She closes her eyes, taking in three deep breaths before-

Drew gasps and Paige’s eyes fly open. With her back turned to the door, she can’t see who it is and something like hope starts to bloom in her chest, vines of maybe it’s her weaving through her ribcage. And as she turns around, they turn to dust; dust that floats up to her eyes and makes them tear up again as she stares dumbfoundedly at the two people standing somewhat awkwardly in her doorway. 

Paige had grown up an independent child. It wasn’t that her parents were neglectful or that they hadn’t loved her enough because they had. But at first it was the constant fighting and then it was the nurturing of a brand new family with new children and Paige had slipped through the cracks of oh she’s so mature we don’t need to worry about her. She had always had her parents as cheerleaders in the stands; no one was prouder of Paige than they were. But no one had bothered to force her to drink terrible tasting immunity boosters. No had patiently dyed her hair purple and pinky promised to like it even if it turned out terrible. No one had yelled at her for being in the gym till one a.m or woken her up at an ungodly hour to run drills. Not until she’d met a girl at 15 and that girl’s parents had decided that Paige was just as much theirs as their own daughter. 

And suddenly there were more people added to her cheering squad for her wins. But that’s not when Paige fell in love with Tim and Katie Fudd. It was when she lost and there was a nagging finger followed by a full breakdown of what she could do better next time and finally, a bear hug promising they’d help her do it. They’d been there every step and she’d sent the invitation, scared they wouldn’t show up, that they wouldn’t be there for this step, a step that inadvertently took her further away from them. But here they are anyway. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Katie says softly, her own eyes moist as she takes in the sight of the bride, “you look- you look absolutely stunning Paige.”

“You came,” Paige whispers, “I didn’t- I didn’t know if you would.”

“Of course we came,” Tim exclaims but his normal boisterous voice doesn’t feel nearly as enthusiastic, “always told you we’d be front and center at your wedding.”

Because I was supposed to marry your daughter; I was supposed to become your daughter, officially. 

“I’m really glad you guys came,” Paige says, letting Katie wrap her into a warm hug. She only gets a second to let herself enjoy it before Drew’s asking a question that makes her stiffen. 

“Where’s Azzi?” 

It’s like there’s lightning wrapped in that one syllable and it strikes right through Paige’s heart, setting every inch of it ablaze with the flames of a name that used to feel like cotton candy on her tongue; now it feels like lava. 

“She couldn’t make it,” Tim says slowly and Paige knows she shouldn’t be surprised, let along disappointed that her ex wasn’t coming but there’s a string that snaps anyways. 

“Why not?” Drew asks petulantly. 

“The baby’s due next month,” Tim tells him gently, “she can’t fly.”

The air feels suffocating at the mention of the baby. She’d been scrolling mindlessly through her tiktok feed when the announcement had popped up. She still has it memorized. 

Golden State Valkyries superstar shooting guard Azzi Fudd announces pregnancy on Instagram; she’ll miss the upcoming WNBA season. 

For a moment the world had stopped as Paige had hurriedly switched apps to instagram. And there it was. A smiling picture of Azzi holding a sonogram. Paige doesn’t know how long she’d stared at the picture but she remembers that it was set against a white background and she remembers that Azzi was wearing a green top. And as she’d typed out a congrats! that blended in seamlessly with all the other felicitating comments on the post, Paige had wondered if Azzi had felt it too. She’d wondered if, when Azzi had left a similar congratulations <3 post on Paige’s engagement announcement, she’d felt something unravel too. She’d wondered if Azzi had felt this hollowness of and i guess this is us signing off on never getting forever with each other. 

“So Azzi’s not going to stop this wedding?” Drew’s voice is dangerously even as he rounds on Paige, “and you’re really going through with this?”

“Drew please” Paige says tiredly as Katie runs a soothing hand down her back. 

“You’re stupid. And she’s stupid. You’re all so freaking stupid,” Drew bursts out, stomping past the adults in the doorway, his anger palpable in every single word. 

“I got it,” Tim says, wrapping a wrist around Paige’s hand as she moves to follow her younger brother. He squeezes gently, a half-hearted smile on his face, “it’s gonna be okay kid. It always is.”

Paige wishes she could just believe him, turn off the voices in her head and just be a kid who could take an adult’s word as gospel. But Paige is the adult now and believing no longer comes so naturally. 

“Hey,” Katie says after Tim runs after Drew, pulling Paige to sit with her on the couch, “I have a little wedding gift for you.

“Katie you don’t have-” Paige begins, watching as the older woman pulls out a velvet box from her bag, placing her phone on the table next to her. 

“Oh hush. I told you I’d give this to you,” Katie chides as she hands the velvet box. Paige’s eyes glisten as she opens it to find a familiar purple amethyst necklace. She’s flooded with the vivid image of her and Azzi on a random day in lockdown helping Katie organize her minimal jewelry. Paige had fallen in love with this necklace and Azzi had her eyes set on a pink topaz. It was fitting to say the least and Katie had promised them, with a glint in her eyes, that she’d give it to them as their something old on their wedding day. They’d been in between something and everything but Paige and Azzi had shared a shy smile over it anyways. 

“I can’t accept this,” Paige shakes her head trying to hand the box back but Katie dodges it expertly. 

“Yes you can. It’s basically a family heirloom and you, Paige Bueckers, are family,” Katie says firmly. 

“Katie-”

The older woman presses a kiss to Paige’s forehead as she starts to head out, “you’re always gonna be family Paige. Always.”

Katie’s words act like a band-aid but they’re not enough- maybe nothing will be enough- to fully heal the wound of today i was supposed to officially become a Fudd. 

A ringing noise interrupts Paige’s pity party and she starts half-heartedly digging around for her phone. She’s confused when she finds it because no one’s calling her and the room is still vibrating with noise. Crinkling her eyebrows, Paige’s eyes finally land on the couch side table, where Katie’s phone, clearly forgotten, is buzzing. 

Azzi’s CallerID flashes on the screen. 

Paige stares at the phone, rooted in place. She knows she shouldn’t pick it up, knows she should go return it. Still without a decision, Paige slowly starts to reach for it. And then it stops ringing and Paige goes still again, unsure if she’s relieved or disappointed. Swallowing, she takes another step. The phone rings again. A myriad of thoughts dance through Paige’s mind, opposing thoughts clashing with each other and making her head hurt. She lies to herself that it’s out of concern; that Azzi’s pregnant and this could be important. She lies to herself as she hits the green answer button that it’s not because she’s desperate to hear Azzi’s voice. 

“Mom?” Azzi sounds distraught when she picks up but Paige thinks it’s still her favorite sound any way, “Mom? I think I did something wrong. I can’t do this Mom. You’ve been gone a day and I’ve already fucked up. I don’t know what and I don’t know when but I think I fucked up. Maybe I ate something I wasn’t supposed to. Maybe it’s because I lay on my back instead of my side but Mom she hasn’t kicked all day and I can’t get Dr. Myers on the phone and I-”

“It’s a girl?” Paige breathes out. And suddenly she’s 22, sitting in a UConn apartment living room, grinning foolishly as Jana points out an AI picture that looks like the perfect mixture of her and Azzi. Azzi, who’s having a daughter. 

The woman in question is quiet and for a second Paige thinks that Azzi might hang up. 

“It’s a girl Paige,” Azzi says finally. 

“Are you- are you okay?” Paige asks slowly, trying not to dwell on how much she’s missed the way Azzi says her name. It’s been Bueckers every time they’ve seen each other this year and she’s never hated the sound of her last name more. 

“Yeah, I just-” Azzi sighs, her voice still a little frazzled, “I’m just being paranoid cause my Mom’s not here and my doctor’s not answering and the stupid baby hasn’t kicked all day,” she pauses, “sorry. I-I don’t mean to dump on you. Not today at least.”

“Az-”

“Where’s my Mom?”

“She- she’s probably outside. Think she left her phone here by accident. I can go find her but can I-” Paige hesitates, chewing at her lips in a way she knows Olivia hates, “can I help?”

“I don’t think-”

Paige shocks herself with her next words, “put the phone to your stomach.”

“What? Paige, did you hit your head in the last two seconds or something?”

“Just- just trust me,” she’s not really sure what she’s saying but now that she’s said, might as well commit to the bit, “I’mma talk sense into her. I saw it in a movie.”

“You saw it in a-” Azzi sighs and Paige can practically picture her rolling her eyes.  “I don’t know who’s more insane. You for coming up with the idea or me because I’mma follow through it,” there’s a bunch of static noise on the other side as Azzi adjusts herself, putting the phone on speaker and pressing it to her belly, “alright Dr. Bueckers work your magic.”

Paige is nervous as she speaks, “hey there little bean. I’m your-” she stops because what is she, “I’m your Paige,” she decides softly, “and I think- I think you should stop stressing your Mama out. She’s a bit of an overthinker so if you could just help her out, I think she’d really appreciate it. Because if- if you don’t she isn’t gonna be able to sleep tonight and you don’t know this yet but when your Mama doesn’t get sleep, she’s kind of a bi-”

“Paige,” Azzi hisses.

“Big baby,” Paige corrects, “she’s a big baby. And then she cries and it’s not a pretty sight-”

“Hey!”

“Sshhh Azzi I’m working my magic,” Paige scolds, “where was I? Oh yeah. She cries and it’s not a pretty sight because,’ her voice softens, “seeing your Mama cry is the worst thing in the world. I hate it and I know- I know you’re gonna hate it too because when you finally come out little bean, the first thing you’re gonna see is your Mama’s smile. And you’re gonna think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Just like I do,” a sob escapes on the other end of the line and Paige feels tears start to cascade down her own cheeks, “come on little bean, give us a little kick. Make your Mama smile.”

Time ticks by slowly and Paige closes her eyes, thinking maybe her desperate attempt to keep Azzi on the line had failed miserably. And then Azzi gasps, “she kicked. Oh my god Paige she kicked.”

Paige’s grin stretches her whole face and for a second it almost feels like she’s right there with Azzi, that instead of her ear being pressed to a phone, it’s pressed to Azzi’s belly. For a second she almost feels like she can feel the baby kicking. And then she opens her eyes. 

“Did it make you smile?” 

“Yeah, yeah it did,” Azzi admits and Paige can hear the relief in her voice. 

“I’m glad- I’m glad you have something that makes you smile.”

“Do you?” Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “do you have someone that makes you smile?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” and it’s not a complete lie. Olivia does make Paige smile. And maybe it’s not quite as big or bright or real but at least Olivia’s here to try. 

“Good. I-I’m also really glad you have that.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am Paige,” Azzi says quietly, “I want you to smile. I just- I just want you to be happy. Are you happy Paige?”

“I’m getting married today,” Paige says in lieu of an answer and she can hear Azzi’s breath hitch. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. It’s a yes or no question,” Azzi presses.

“Then you answer it Azzi,” Paige bites out, “are you happy?”

“I”m-,” the younger girl lets out a sigh, “I’m content.”

Her answer makes Paige’s skin itch with irritation and she can’t stop it from seeping into her next question, “so you have no regrets then?”

“I didn’t say that,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s voice. 

“Do you or do you not regret saying no to marrying me Azzi?” Paige asks, unable to hold it in any longer. 

“Paige-”

“What? You gonna say it’s not that simple? It’s a yes or no question Azzi,” Paige mocks. 

“That’s not it-”

“Then what is?”

“You’re getting married Paige,” Azzi yells, “you’re getting married,” she repeats again, softer this time, “to someone else. And so it doesn’t matter how I feel. It isn’t fair of you to ask and it wouldn’t- it wouldn’t be fair of me to answer. Not today. Maybe one day- one day it'll be the right time but not today.”

“And what if it’s never the right time?” 

“Then maybe it’s a question you were never meant to know the answer to.”

There’s something final in the quietness that follows, like they’re having a moment of silence at a funeral for what never even got to be. 

It’s Azzi who speaks first. 

“You’re gonna be a wonderful wife P.”

“You’re gonna be an amazing mom Az.”

They let it left unsaid that they were supposed to be wives to each other, that they were supposed to be moms together. 

***

March 2033 

Paige doesn’t know how long she stands outside, staring down the winding road that had taken Stephie and Azzi away from her. The neighborhood is slowly waking up and if the woman across the street opens her curtains and thinks it’s a little strange that her new neighbor is standing like a statue on her front porch, she only raises a slight eyebrow before going back to her day. It takes almost twenty minutes before her head finally convinces her heart that no matter how much she stands outside, they’re not coming back. 

There’s a part of her that can admit that maybe Azzi had a point and maybe she shouldn’t have asked her to stay over last night. But Paige has never been known for her common sense, especially not when it comes to Azzi. Because truth be told, asking Azzi to stay the night was perhaps the least ridiculous of the thoughts that had invaded her mind last night. It was easy- too easy- to fall right back into whatever with Azzi. She’d done a good job pretending that the nightly facetime calls had been for Stephie’s benefit but the truth is that they had become just as much a necessity for Paige. She’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face every night and the temptation to have that in person last night had been too hard to resist. And so she hadn’t. 

She makes it about three steps up the stairs, when the fort still set up in the living room catches her eye. And that’s when the first tear falls, and then the second and then the third until she thinks if she tried to swim in them, she’d probably drown. Paige abandons the idea of going up to her room and crawls back into the tent made of blankets. And she must be going insane because she swears she can still smell the faint scent of a toddler and Azzi’s lavender perfume on the pillow she cradles to her chest. It’s ridiculous to be so attached already. She knows that. Stephie isn’t hers but it feels like the little girl has crept underneath her skin, burrowing herself in a part of Paige’s heart that the blond didn’t even know was there. And Azzi- well no matter how long it’s been, no matter how much resentment Paige has held, the truth is that there’s a little patch of Paige’s soul  that will always belong to the younger woman. 

Paige barely registers herself falling asleep until there’s abrupt knocking on her door and she realizes she’s been cocooned in the fort for almost three hours. She hesitantly lets go of the pillow, groggily walking towards the door. It’s useless to pretend that she isn’t hoping it’s Azzi and Stephie on the other side, isn’t hoping that Azzi had realized her mistake, isn’t hoping to scoop both of them into her arms and fill the hollowness that’s been thrumming against her ribcage. God Paige has barely survived a month -a day if she’s completely honest- she doesn’t know how she’s going to survive this whole season. 

She crosses her fingers behind her back as she opens the door. 

“Hey,” Katie’s smiling face looks back at her, holding up a tray of coffee and a bag of something, “figured you haven’t eaten breakfast yet?”

Paige blinks stupidly as Katie lets herself in, moving through Paige’s house with ease and immediately locating the kitchen. She hands Paige a cup of coffee before ransacking through the bag and pulling out a glazed donut, “eat. I know you haven’t.”

“Does Azzi know you’re here?” Paige asks slowly before taking a bite out of her donut. 

Katie gives her pointed look, “who do you think gave me your address?”

“Is she- is she okay?” 

“You two are something you know,” Katie shakes her head, “you’re asking me if she’s okay and she sent me over here to make sure that you were okay.”

Paige feels her heart swell with after all this time, “she sent you?”

“I have breakfast with Azzi and Stephie every Sunday morning. Now imagine my surprise when I get there today and my oh so sweet and wonderful granddaughter isn’t talking to her mother. And so I forced the story out of Azzi and I barely understood a word she was saying through her tears-”

“She was crying?” Paige feels her lungs constrict. 

Katie shoots her an unimpressed look, “can I finish the story?”

“I don’t like this story. It has Azzi crying.”

“Yeah well the two of you seem to enjoy doing that to each other,” Katie cocks an unamused eyebrow and Paige flinches at the truth of it, “anyways I didn’t understand much of it but she was clear by the end. Seemed to think you needed someone, needed me and so here I am Paige.”

“Why is your daughter like this?” Paige demands, “how is she gonna make me cry and then send somebody else to wipe my tears.”

“Well I can leave-”

“Why couldn’t she just have stayed?” the blonde questions, “why does she always have to overthink things and make it more complicated? Why can’t she just listen to her heart once in her fucking life? Why can’t she just let herself live? Why is it always no with her and never just yes?”

Katie gives Paige a sad smile, reaching for her hand, “that’s why.”

“Please don’t speak in riddles. It’s 10 a.m and I’m sad,” Paige whines. She might be in her early thirties but there’s something about Katie Fudd that makes Paige feel like it’s okay to be a bit of a child.

“Why is it always no with her and never yes?” Katie repeats, “c’mon Paige you know that’s not about last night.”

“It is,” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“It’s not,” Katie says, gently squeezing Paige’s hand, “it’s about her saying no 8 years ago.”

“I’m ov-” Paige stops, withering under Katie’s glare, “okay maybe it’s a little bit about her saying no 8 years ago. But I’m allowed to still be upset about it. She broke my heart. I wanted forever and she walked away. I’m allowed to be mad about that.”

“Of course you’re allowed to be mad Paige but that’s exactly why Azzi had to go this morning. And it’s exactly why you shouldn’t have asked her to stay last night. You guys can’t just pretend none of it happened because it did. You’re still hurt Paige and ignoring that is gonna get you guys nowhere. Especially with Stephie involved.”

“So what are you saying? You’re saying me and Azzi should just be teammates? You’re saying I should just never see Stephie again,” even the thought of it makes Paige feel like she is laying down on a bed of thorns. 

“You’re so goddamn dramatic Bueckers,” Katie rolls her eyes, “I’m not saying any of that. I’m saying maybe you just need to take it slower, with both of them, instead of having a goddamn sleepover the literal first night you’re in the same city. Besides,” Katie gives her a knowing smirk, “my granddaughter is obsessed with her Miss Buecks. Pretty sure she’d find a way to see you again no matter what.”

“Good,” Paige lets out her first smile of the day, “because I’d find a way to see her again too. She just- she’s kinda great isn’t she? Azzi did a good job with that one. She’s- she’s perfect,” she looks at Katie who’s regarding Paige with a thoughtful expression, “what? Do I have donut glaze on my face?”

“No, no it just- I’ve seen that expression before.”

“What expression?”

“The one you just had on your face while talking about Stephie,” Katie laughs to herself, “it’s the same one Tim had when he first met Azzi.”

***

“Oh my god. It’s Paige Bueckers. Can I have your autograph?” Steph Curry winks at Paige as she walks into his office. The Golden State legend had started an after-school basketball camp for kids in the Bay Area and as soon as he’d heard the news of Paige coming over to the Valkyries, he’d messaged her if she’d be interested in helping him out in the off-season. Paige had been more than willing to be a part of it, always invested in giving back to her community. If she’d been excited by the idea before though, today, after the worst sleep of her night as she tossed and turned to the hopeless depression of not having spoken to Stephie and Azzi for far too long, Paige really needed this distraction. 

“Don’t think you can afford my autograph,” Paige smirks lazily as she basically droops into the seat opposite him. 

Steph laughs goodnaturedly, “welcome to the Bay Area kid.”

“I’m a little old to be called a kid don’t you think? I’m nearly 25,” Paige grins, wiggling her eyebrows.. 

Steph shakes his head, “nah you’re always gonna be a kid to me. You and Azzi both,” he chuckles to himself, “even though Azzi’s got her own kid now. Have you met her?”

Well that distraction lasted 30 seconds, Paige thinks to herself as she forces a smile onto her face, “yeah. I’ve seen her around.”

“She’s cute as hell right? And she knows it. Little miss bossy pants has everyone wrapped around her fingers. Kinda reminds me of Riley,” there’s a goofy expression as Steph thinks of his daughter and Paige wonders if the same one is reflected on her face as she thinks about Stephie, “and she’s a natural at basketball. Only five and her shot’s already pretty good. You’ll see it today when she comes to camp. And she’s pretty good at defense-”

“I’m sorry what?” Paige blinks rapidly. 

“I know. What defense can a 5 year old play but it’s just the way she moves you know?” Steph tries to explain and Paige shakes her head. 

“Not that. Stephie- Stephie’s coming to camp?”

Steph grins large and proud, “of course she is. She was the first camper I signed.”

“Right,” Paige nods, giving the man in front of her a tight smile, “can you- can you excuse me for one second.”

As soon as Paige is outside of Steph’s earshot, she’s calling Katie; Katie who had sat at her kitchen counter yesterday and listened with a smile as Paige told her all about Steph’s camp. Katie who hadn’t said one word about Stephie being a part of said camp. Katie who was maybe grinning just a little too hard at the idea. 

“Did you know Stephie goes to Curry Camp?” Paige asks as soon as the line connects. 

“Hi Katie. Hi Paige. How was your day? Oh mine was good Paige, thanks for asking, how was yours?” Katie replies sarcastically. 

“Katie,” Paige groans. 

“Did I know that my granddaughter goes to her godfather’s special camp for the sport that her mother plays and she’s obsessed with?” Katie says slowly and Paige can tell she’s holding back a laugh, “nope, didn’t have a clue. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“What happened to telling me to take things slow?” Paige hisses. 

“Well if I left the two of you two to your own devices y’all wouldn’t go slow, you wouldn’t even move at all,” Katie defends. 

“So you’re meddling?”

“I am not,” Katie protests, “you were always gonna help with the camp and Stephie’s already been going to the camp. I just didn’t let you stress out about it. Really you should be thanking me.”

“Thank you Katie,” Paige bites out mockingly. 

“You’re so very welcome Paige,” Katie sing-songs, “by the way, come over for dinner soon okay sweetheart. Love you honey. See you later darling.”

She hangs up before Paige can say anything and the blonde saunters back into Steph’s office, trying to corral her facial expression into something more neutral. 

“All good?” Steph asks. 

“Just peachy,” Paige hums in response, “we gonna head over to the court soon? It’s almost 4.”

Steph nods, “yeah they’ll be done setting up for us. Azzi usually brings Stephie to say hi to me right before cause no favoritism in front of the other kids you know? But maybe she’s running la- oh no wait there they are!”

Paige freezes, heartbeat erratic, as Steph walks to the door in anticipation. 

“UNCLE TWIN,” Stephie screams and something in Paige’s heart starts to fix itself at the sound of the younger girl’s voice. She’s scared to turn around, unsure if she’s more scared to realize it’s a dream or find out that it’s reality. 

“TWIN NIECE,” Steph yells back with equal vigor and Paige can hear Azzi’s laugh now too, each giggle acting like a needle, stitching up the parts of Paige that had felt broken since yesterday morning. She turns around deliberately slowly. Stephie is cradled in Steph’s arms and Azzi’s watching them with a fond smile. And it’s ridiculous to be jealous of a happily married man who’s practically Azzi’s brother if not her uncle, but the sense of that should be me, weighs heavily on Paige’s lungs anyways. 

It’s Azzi who sees her first, smile slowly fading as dark brown eyes clash with light blue ones. 

“Paige,” she whispers softly and there’s a multitude of undecipherable emotions wrapped in that one syllable and Paige thinks she could spend forever just trying to uncover them. 

Stephie’s ear perks up at the mention of Paige’s name as her own little eyes finally land on the blonde, shuffling her feet nervously in the corner. Her bottom lip trembles, eyes watering as she forces herself down from Steph’s lap, racing to Paige. It’s instinct the way Paige falls to her knees, ready to catch the bundle of limps that practically falls into her waiting arms. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers, “I missed you so much.”

Paige’s own eyes water as she buries her face in Stephie’s hair, “me too sweetheart. I missed you so, so, so much.”

In front of them, Steph looks beyond confused as to what's happening and Azzi’s determinedly looking away, even if there’s a lone tear waterfalling down her left cheek. 

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Stephie confesses, voice choked up as she tightens her grip on Paige’s neck, “and I begged and I begged Mama to let me call you but she said you were busy. And then I yelled at Mama and it made Mama cry too and I hate making Mama cry.”

“I know. I know sweetheart,” Paige soothes softly, running her hands down Stephie’s back as the little girl continues to babble. They stay like that for a long time and Paige thinks if she could ask the world for one thing that doesn’t belong to her, she’d ask for Stephie. 

Finally Steph coughs, looking apprehensively between the three girls in the room, “so um- I take it you’ve more than just seen Stephie around then Paige?”

Paige lets out a watery laugh, finally letting Stephie go and turning around but still keeping a hand on Stephie’s shoulder, “yeah I guess that’s true.”

“What are you doing here Miss Buecks,” Stephie asks, looking up at Paige. 

“I’m uh- well Mr. Steph-”

“Uncle Twin,” Stephie corrects immediately and Paige can’t help but grin at the nickname. 

“Right. Uncle Twin asked me to be a coach at his camp and I agreed,” Paige explains, trying to catch Azzi’s eyes but the shooting guard seems determined to focus on a picture of Steph and Ayesha on the wall instead. 

“You’re gonna be my coach,” Stephie squeals, turning around to hug Paige’s knees, “this is the best news of my life.”

Paige feels her heart soar into a sky of you’re the best new of my life Stephie as she bends down to kiss Stephie forehead, “let’s see if you say that when I make you run laps after you miss a shot.”

“You wouldn’t?” Stephie says, looking horrified at the idea. 

“I totally would,” Paige teases. 

Stephie is quiet for a second before a proud smirk blooms on her lips, “that’s okay ‘cause I don’t miss. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter. Right Mama?”

“Right baby,” Azzi says, finally letting herself meet Paige’s gaze. 

“Well Miss-I-Don’t-Miss, how about you walk over to the court and show us how you don’t miss,” Steph teases. 

Stephie waddles out of Paige’s grip and holds her arms up at Steph, a saccharine smile on her face,“I can’t be tired if I don’t wanna miss Uncle Twin, so can you please carry me over there?”

Steph rolls his eyes but it doesn’t stop him from hoisting Stephie onto his shoulders, “alright your highness, let’s go.”

Stephie’s giggles echoe down the hall as Steph runs towards the courts and Paige can’t help the fond laugh that escapes her. 

“She gets that from you, you know,” Paige says softly to Azzi. 

“Gets what?”

“Being a princess who gets everything she wants.”

“Not everything,” Azzi says wistfully, “not everything I want.”

She moves to start following but Paige wraps a hand around her wrist, “I didn’t know Stephie was a part of Curry Camp. I swear I- I didn’t do this on purpose.”

Azzi sighs, “I know. I know you wouldn’t Paige.”

“And I- I wanted to thank you for sending your Mom yesterday. I really- I really did need it even if I didn’t know it,” Paige’s thumb subconsciously rubs against Azzi’s skin, “but you- you always seem to know what I need.”

Azzi rips her hand out from Paige's grip, “you’re doing it again.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes you are. You keep saying things like that- things you shouldn’t say- things I can’t just listen to and be okay,” Azzi brushes her hand against her face, “I know the way I left yesterday was wrong and maybe I was projecting,” she admits in a whisper, “but you just- you make me feel too fucking much. And it's too quick and it’s scares me.”

“Scares you?” Paige scoffs, “I’m not the one who broke your heart Azzi.”

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve lived with that guilt for the last 8 years? Jesus fucking christ Paige. I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of me,” tears stream down Azzi’s face as she paces the room, “I have never heard Stephie cry so fucking much in my life Paige. And you know who did that to her? Me, I did that. Apparently I’m really fucking good at making people cry but I don’t want to. I don’t want to break her heart, I don’t want to break your heart and I don’t want to break my own heart. Not again.”

“Azzi-”

“And so I’m stopping it before it happens. Before I ruin it again.”

Azzi tries to leave again but Paige is faster, wrapping her arms around the younger woman’s waist and pulling her flush against her chest so she can’t escape. It’s a terrible idea because now all of her senses are consumed by Azzi as they both become acutely aware of how close they are now. 

“Paige,” Azzi whispers weakly, one hand pressed right against Paige’s heart, “let me go.”

“I think today’s the right time,” Paige says softly, hands grazing Azzi’s waist, “I asked you a question once and you said one day, when the time was right, you’d give me an answer. It’s the right time.”

“I don’t think so-”

“Azzi please,” Paige begs, “do you regret saying no?”

“Paige let me go,” Azzi wriggles against her grip but it only makes Paige tighten her hold. 

“It’s a simple yes or no question.’

“Stephie’s probably wondering where we are-”

“Then answer the damn question and we can go to her-”

“Paige please.”

“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”

“What do you want me to say?” Azzi bursts out finally, “you want me to say that I’ve never regretted anything more in my life? You want me to say the minute I said no, I wanted to rip out my tongue? You want me to say that I almost called you several times in the last decade to tell you how stupid I was? You want me to say that I flew to Dallas once to tell you that I fucked up but then I saw you with Olivia and decided you deserved better than me-”

“What?”  Paige feels the air being snatched from her lungs. 

“The answer to your stupid fucking question,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “is yes. Yes I regret saying no to you Paige. But it doesn’t matter. Because I said no and you found someone else who’d say yes and now it’s too late.”

And Paige thinks that Katie was probably right, that she should probably take things slow. But when it comes to Azzi Fudd, Paige Bueckers has never been one to do what she should. 

“It’s never too late for us,” Paige whispers before crashing her lips against the woman, who’s always been the reason for her biggest, brightest, most real smile.

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 12 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her. warning(s): a homophobic character saying some homophobic shit. listen, it's set in 2004 it was inevitable.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 13

"So..." Gretchen drawled from the passenger seat. "You're still not doing the dance with us?"

Regina glanced at her. "No."

"Cady's taking the lead." The brunette said, very badly acting as if she wasn't looking for a reaction. Regina resisted the urge to bite back, to defend her honour, and kept her eyes on the road.

"Great." She said, voice tart. "She's doing the stunt, is she?"

"Yup." Gretchen's breath hitched. "She's, uh, got it nailed down."

A mean smirk spread her lips. "Oh, really? I'm looking forward to it."

Gretchen swallowed. Regina spied from the rearview mirror Karen was watching the scenery pass by dreamily.

"What's up, Karen?" Regina asked.

"The sky!" Karen stated proudly. "And birds, I suppose. Hold on..." She felt up her boobs, pulling at her nipple obscenely. "Ouch. Yeah, it's gonna start snowing soon."

Regina, knowing the forecast had promised much the same thing, hummed. "Gonna have to stay in, then."

Gretchen shifted her weight on the passenger seat. She seemed uneasy. Both she and Karen had been severely late to arrive at her car today and had seemed... Dodgy. Regina could hardly blame her, though. Things had gotten weird recently.

She wasn't being nice. Not exactly. She'd just, kind of, dialled it back a little. A year ago she'd have spent the days leading up to Christmas break making the rounds, spreading nasty rumours about this and that, ensuring everybody's holidays were ruined just the right amount. This time, she'd forgone that.

A part of it, a large majority, was due to the Thanksgiving fiasco with Jorts. Another, smaller part, was because she was tired. She just didn't want to.

Arriving at her house, Regina parked and stepped out of her car. Gretchen and Karen followed her inside where mom greeted them with mugs of hot chocolate. Fancy chocolate and skim milk. Regina pointedly left her mug on the tray.

As she was going up the stairs, she noticed neither Gretchen nor Karen had grabbed a mug.

"Take them." She gestured vaguely back to her mom. "Don't be wasteful, girls."

Making her way up leisurely, she relished in the sound of the two girls scrambling to grab their mugs and then follow her as fast as possible. She might've loosened her hold on the student body, but Gretchen and Karen she'd keep. She didn't care if it was immoral or something, she'd done a lot of work to get them where they were.

"Shane Oman's doing a Christmas party this Friday," Gretchen informed them as they settled around Regina's room. "There's talk he's specifically invited Doris Harris."

"Who the fuck names their kid Doris Harris?" Regina scoffed and inspected her nails. She'd have to get a new set soon. "Are you going?"

"What? You- you're not?" Gretchen sputtered.

"I have... Plans." Important, top-secret plans. "Shane Oman is a sleazebag and a womanizer. Doris can have him." She said airily and looked at the two girls sitting on her floor.

"What plans do you have?" Gretchen probed. Karen looked on, seeming to be in her own world. Little specks of snow were beginning to fall outside.

"Private." She left it at that. "Who are you bringing to the party?"

"Probably Jason." Gretchen sighed. Regina's face twisted.

"You're still with that douche?" She sat down cross-legged near the two. "Why?"

"Oh, do you think I should break up with him?" Gretchen looked between her and Karen, seeming lost. "I can do that."

Regina rolled her eyes. Okay, maybe she'd put a little too much work in these two. They were old enough to think for themselves.

"Look, Gretchen..." She closed her eyes. "I'm not gonna say sorry. I'm, uh, just not going to." She didn't tack on the yet that meant to crawl up her throat. Too much too fast. "However, it's becoming apparent that my usual methods are no longer as effective. Exhibit A, Cady Heron."

Gretchen stared at her. Then, her head tilted to the side like that of an inquisitive dog. Karen was gaping at her, having probably not comprehended a single word. Regina sighed.

"Look, I'm not gonna just waste my time and energy putting people down anymore!" She was feeling way too defensive and the others hadn't even said anything. "I might, like, join a sports team or something for senior year. Focus on myself."

"Wow." Gretchen breathed out. "So, you're just gonna step down?"

"I'm still Regina fucking George. I'm not gonna stop being me." That being a vicious bitch with a lot of hate in her heart. "I'm just saying that it's getting old."

"Why? You- you can't just stop. That makes no sense. Someone's gonna take you over, like- like Doris Harris!" Gretchen took several short breaths, this close to hyperventilating. "Doris Harris is going to be the new Regina George!"

She rolled her eyes so hard her entire head rolled with them. "That statement contradicts itself. If she's the new Regina George, I'm still on top. The original."

"You sound so alike." Karen smiled. "You two are so cute. True love."

"Karen!" Gretchen snapped, sounding like a chihuahua. "Shush!"

"Who sounds alike?" Intrigued, Regina leaned forward. "Me and who? True love?"

"Oh, uh..." Karen looked to Gretchen, who was trying (and failing) to subtly shake her head, and then to Regina whose eyes bored into hers. "Uhhhhhhh..."

"She's rebooting." Regina huffed, leaning back. "Gretch, I just... I don't care anymore."

It had been a startling realization. Not a quick one despite the one eureka moment that'd brought it all together. There were things more important to her than maintaining a hierarchy in high school. It still was important, to a degree, but well. If she had to pick between one-upping some random girl at a shitty party and date night with Jorts, the choice was entirely too obvious. It was going to be date night every time.

(If she even had that privilege anymore. She's called her slurs, for fuck's sake. She could only hope her apology would be good enough.)

"How can you not care?" Gretchen screeched. Karen sipped at her hot cocoa nervously.

"I just don't." Something like this, not caring about something, wasn't a decision she could consciously make. At least, not entirely. Once you stopped caring, you just did. That was that.

It wasn't easy, though. She didn't have the strength of will to be deliberately mean to everyone, every single day, but she would not tolerate people stepping on her toes. If somebody encroached, she wouldn't hesitate to bring them down. Where the line went, distinguishing between a serious threat and a general nuisance, was the hard part.

Letting go of the instinct to just be mean was a challenging hurdle.

"She's changed you. All this time, you've been talking to her, haven't you? J, Jorts, whoever she is. She's corrupted you." Gretchen sneered. "What happened, Regina? Or should I say, Reggie?"

Regina looked at her friend, minion, accomplice- whatever.

"Excuse me?" She said, so quietly it could've been mistaken for a whisper.

"You heard me." Gretchen's sneer dissolved, old instinct to cower kicking in. "Reggie." She hissed, a feeble attempt at keeping her power.

"What the fuck do you know about J?" Regina could feel herself grow cold, anger mixing with panic, mixing with visceral, palpable terror.

Of course, all that manifested as blind fury.

"We know plenty about J. You've never shut up about her. Y'know, I used to think she was an ex-boyfriend of yours 'cause of the way you talked about her. And now, it all makes sense." Gretchen spread her arms provocatively. "Because she's gotten into your head, used her sticky, lesbo fingers to mix you up. Snap out of it, Regina. This is not who you are."

Anger roiling in her stomach, she was about to release pure acid onto the dimwitted, insensitive, stupid girl, when Karen spoke up.

"Gretchen, you're being stupid." She said so lightly. Both of them turned to look at Karen. She was watching the window, looking immensely pleased with herself. Yet another correct weather report.

"What?" Gretchen breathed out.

"Stupid. That's stupid. I didn't know you were, like, homophobic." Seeming to focus, Karen turned to face Gretchen. "I think I told you my brother's gay."

"Oh." Gretchen deflated. Regina didn't know what she should do. "Well, that's different, he's a guy! Lesbians are totally different."

"How?" Karen, more engaged than Regina had witnessed her be in a long time, kept her eerily wide eyes trained on Gretchen. "How is it any different?"

"Listen, everybody can do what they want with... Whoever, like, consents, but it's different when they shove their beliefs in people's faces." Regina, quite astounded, didn't know what to say. Karen did, though.

"J didn't shove anything in our faces. I don't think she shoved anything in Regina's face." She put her finger to her chin. "Unless they're into that sort of thing."

"Karen..." Regina sighed.

"Anyway, I think your opinions about gay people are weird, Gretchen. You should look into that."

"My opinions are just fine!" Gretchen's shoulders rose all the way up to her ears. "You guys are the weird ones! It's not like I hate gay people! There's just, y'know, healthy concern. If it was so easy to turn Regina then what can they do to impressionable little kids?" Gretchen licked her lips nervously. "What about Kylie?" She asked, looking to Regina for sympathy or agreement or something.

By that point, Regina had checked out.

"I don't think Regina's changed. Not really." Karen's owl eyes turned to her. "She's just... Shedding. Like a snake. Getting a new skin." She dragged her eyes up and down. "Yeah. New, shiny scales. Like a blonde, human green tree python. My dad has one. A snake one."

"Thanks," Regina said, tone flat. She then turned to Gretchen. "Get out."

Her hands trembled. Rage or fear, she couldn't tell where the tremor stemmed from.

"Regina, this isn't right-"

Just the sound of her voice made her blood boil. Her eyes stung too, but she refused to feel anything but anger.

"What isn't right is that you're still in my house. J is my childhood friend and the assumptions you've made about her are life-threatening. People are killed because they're gay, Gretchen. She hasn't turned me into anything, much less something you're insinuating." The claim that Jorts had turned her into a lesbian was false. If there were to be a claim about Regina's sexuality alone, then the answer wouldn't be so clear. "Get your fucking act together. I'm too good to bother with high school politics. We're going to college in two years. Stop being so small-minded and do something with your life for once."

She heaved in lungfuls of air. She stood up abruptly, walked to the door and pointed down the hallway.

"I-" Gretchen tried to say something, but Regina just reiterated her point.

"Out!"

She didn't particularly care that her friend (ex-friend) didn't have a ride home. She didn't care that she was a bigot, that Gretchen was right about her and Karen being the weird ones. She didn't care that Jorts had definitely changed her in some way.

As soon as the brunette had scuttled down the stairs, the front door slamming on her way out, Regina slumped against her door. She didn't care. She did not care.

"So, is it just us, now?" Karen asked from her spot on the floor. Regina was pretty sure she hadn't moved an inch since she plopped down. "Is J gonna be our new friend?"

"I don't know, Karen." She buried her face in her hands. Fuck. She wasn't supposed to care. "I didn't know Gretchen was like that."

"Hmm." Karen hummed. "I didn't know you weren't like that."

Her head snapped up, looking at Karen. Her expression was unreadable, like a book with blank pages.

"I... I'm scared, Karen."

"Yeah. My brother's boyfriend is from Alabama and he's been beat up before 'cause he looks gay. And he is gay, but the earring gave it away, I think. And my uncle died of AIDS and my family don't really talk about him and we weren't allowed to see him. My aunt that's in New York's been living with her best friend of, like, thirty years for forever and I went to visit one time and they had only one bedroom."

That was perhaps the longest, most coherent sentence Karen had ever said. Too bad the subject was so grim.

"Wow, Karen. Sounds like your family's full of..." What could she call them? Her mind defaulted to nasty slurs. "People like that."

"I guess." She smiled faintly. "I hear them crying sometimes, in my brother's room, when they're home for the holidays. Mama says I shouldn't go up and snuggle them until they feel better. They're having a moment." Karen looked confused at that. "Are we having a moment?"

Regina slowly unfurled from her slump against the door. "Maybe."

"Oh. Okay." She accepted easily. The familiarity of the scenario had a smile creeping back to Regina. "My brother smiles the biggest when me and his boyfriend team up against him at board games. My mom cries when we visit my uncle's grave. She tells us stories about him and shows us pictures. My aunt has three cats with her bestie and they call them their children and they wear matching rings."

"That's really sweet, Karen." Regina, now smiling in earnest, shuffled closer.

"I don't really get it." She said in the same light tone she'd use when talking about schoolwork. "Like, my brother's boyfriend is really nice so I don't get why people beat him up for dating my brother. And I think it was really mean that my grandma didn't let mama see her brother when he was sick. And my aunt and her best friend already live together, have cat-kids, and kiss on the mouth, so why can't they get married for real?"

Regina stared ahead, more than a little floored. Gretchen, simultaneously surprisingly and unsurprisingly, was a homophobe. Regina knew the political climate and knew that being openly gay was social suicide, and sometimes literal suicide, but she hadn't expected someone so close to her to be like that. They hadn't talked about it much, to be fair. Besides, Regina wasn't much better. While she might've not been a real homophobe, as in actually subscribed to the ideology, she'd done plenty of homophobic acts.

Whether or not in the name of projection or denial didn't really matter. Janis 'Imi'ike had been the first girl she'd subjected to hate crimes and discrimination, but not the last. How many times had she shoved other girls under the bus so she could get off scot-free? How many times had she done it for a twisted sense of fun?

Too many, was the easy answer. Not enough, whispered the scared, hidden thing in the back rooms of her mind.

And Karen was an ally. A supporter of the cause. And unexpectedly well-spoken when she had something she liked to talk about.

"Karen, I like girls."

"Me too!"

Regina's heart beat like a drum. She was beginning to sweat.

"No- I mean, like, I'm... A lesbian. I guess."

"Okay!"

She snuck a glance at the other girl. She was peering mournfully into her empty mug.

"Like your aunt and her best friend." She took a deep breath. "I like girls in that way."

"Uhh, duh," Karen smiled at her, beamed, really. "J is your true love."

"I wouldn't go that far." Regina sighed but had to purse her lips to keep from smiling. At the same time, a knot tightened in her chest, like hiccups trying to escape. She threw her head back and puffed out a breath, blinking rapidly.

"Let's go get more hot chocolate and I'll tell you about my talent show performance." She wiped discreetly at her eyes and extended a hand to Karen.

"Hot cocoa!" The girl exclaimed as she pulled herself up with Regina's help. "Ouuuhh, what kinda performance?"

"A song." Regina guided them down the hallway. "For her."

Obviously, she had more than just a song planned. A proper apology, for one, was in the works. Karen didn't need to know about that, though. That was between her and J.

Notes: Boo I lied it's not the last one. I thought it would be! I was wrong! I did start rambling like I kind of predicted in the notes of the last chapter. Or, like, I felt the ending would be a little too abrupt without some downtime. So have some Regina POV!

Will no longer be making predictions about when the end is. I'll only be contradicting myself lol. But like, the arc is coming to a close, a natural end is coming. And then the epilogue things.

Praying to god the taglist will work. Trying a new method today, fingers crossed! Hand-typing every single fucking name, no commas in between names, the utmost technicalities. This is the night fellas, the night we've been waiting for.

Edit: it didn't work. in fact, it worked worse than the other times! fuck! put another version of the list, back with commas, and it seems to tag some people but not all. gonna have to do some scouring on the internets.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism , @9unknown0 , @sage-rose2000 , @massive-honkas , @nattys-swiftie , @likefirenrain , @luz-enjoyer , @dandelions4us , @natashamaximoff-69 , @alexkolax , @jareaul0ver , @here4theqts , @charleeeesworld , @natsbiggestfan1 , @brocoliisscared , @yellowwallflowers , @scarlettbitchx , @ayoungexwife , @cyberbonesworld , @syddie-reads , @screechcat , @theenglishswiftie , @gabby-duhh , @sweetmissnothing , @masterofpuppets-10 , @l1lass , @starved-mortal , @nothanksbye07 , @nenas19 , @jvuyii , @starry-night17 , @reneeswife24 , @glorioushamsterqueen , @krononan , @slug-on-bike , @rayisaknight , @chaseatlanticlover91 , @reginassweetheart , @mirage018

(if you want to be added to the taglist, comment so on this post! beware it seldom works. i try my best.)

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Alright y'all. We had the hurt, let's get some comfort started.

-

Steve leans against his door, expecting Eddie to follow him upstairs to continue their argument because Eddie's never been one to back down from an argument as far as Steve can tell, so he's using his weight to keep the door shut. It takes about five minutes of just leaning against the door before he hears a few light knocks on the door. He pretends he didn't hear them and soon starts to hear Eddie monologue-ing on the other side. He thinks he hears a 'sorry' and an 'I fucked up' but he doesn't really tune in until Eddie says something about cancelling Hellfire.

Spinning quickly, he yanks the door open and says, "You better not fucking cancel!"

"What? Don't you, like, want me out of your house?" Eddie looks startled and sounds confused.

"What I want is for the kids to get to play Dungeons and Dorks for an afternoon, just getting to be kids and fight against monsters that can't actually kill them," Steve says as he goes to put his hands on his hips (a move that Robin calls his Bitch Stance) but realizes he can't while still holding a book, so instead he folds his arms across his chest, cradling the book to his body.

He waits for Eddie to call him out for saying dorks instead of dragons, but Eddie just blinks at him, quiet for a moment before he says, "Oh. Uh, okay then. I'll just, uhh, I'll be back closer to noon, then. For the game."

"Don't you have prep to do?" Steve knows he's trying to pick a fight now but he's angry, and sad, and hurt underneath it all. Also, he doesn't understand the change in Eddie suddenly. Ten-ish minutes ago Eddie had shouted back I wasn’t exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even! Where is that anger now?

"No. Not, uh, not really," Eddie says, avoiding meeting Steve's gaze, face turning a very light pink. "I was- I mean, yes, there was prep, but I did a majority of that already and what's left will take maybe three minutes so..."

Steve's confused now, still trying to cling to his anger. "But you called and asked if it was okay to come early specifically for that reason."

Eddie doesn't respond right away. He turns around to walk to the wall opposite Steve's door and thump his forehead against it. Steve is perplexed by the behavior (but he's been perplexed by Eddie since finding him at Reefer Rick's) so he just watches in silence as Eddie heaves a sigh and turns around to slump against the wall, facing Steve once again. He runs a hand through his hair, then drags that hand back forward and down his face. "Yeah. I did do that."

"So, what, you lied? Why?"

"I just wanted to hang out," Eddie whispers, like it almost hurts him to say out loud, which is such a weird thing to hear because it makes Eddie seem small in a way Steve's never seen him. Even during spring break Eddie was never small or quiet; his fear manifested as shouting, for fuck's sake. It chips away at the last of Steve's anger. He's long past the days of kicking someone when they're down.

"You... wanted to hang out," Steve repeats before heaving a sigh of his own, long-suffering man that he is. Maybe it is time to bury the hatchet and actual deal with this. If nothing else, it'll result in Steve being less defensive around Eddie when everyone hangs out, like for movie night or BBQs. Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to so he says, "Listen, I think we've got some shit to hash out, or whatever, so that should probably be done or, like, things are going to be weird when we all hang out, but I can't do that right now, man. So, stay or go, just make that game happen at noon. I'm going to stay up here."

Eddie nods, weirdly sullen and quiet again, as he says, "Yeah. Umm, maybe after the game? If you're feeling up to it."

"Sure. After."

Eddie raps his knuckles against the wall behind him twice before pushing off and heading back towards the stairs. He pauses to look over his shoulder and say, "If you wanna watch, or listen in, or something, I don't think anyone will mind." And then he's heading down the stairs.

Retreating back to his room, Steve tosses the book onto his bed before flopping face first next to it. He groans into his comforter before reaching for the book. He props himself up on his elbows and stares down at the cover before opening it to see Christopher's handwriting on the inside cover.

It's been years since he thought about Christopher and even longer since he's laid eyes on the books. He was so sure his mom had just gotten rid of them. All this time, they'd been right where he left them, shoved just far enough back to be out of sight on the shelf. His last link to Christopher.

That's not true, Steve scolds himself. His cousins, Amber and Robert, are still alive and in Washington. His grandparents still live on that farm in Michigan. Steve just hasn't seen them since the funeral.

He hadn't gone back to the farm the summer after freshman year, or any year since. His parents thought he was old enough to stay home for a whole month in the summer alone now, instead of paying to ship him off to his grandparents. Steve's old enough now to know that was why he'd spent a month every year out on the farm; so his parents could go off on longer work trips. Once they'd decided Steve was old enough to stay alone for the summer, that quickly reached other seasons and by the time Steve was a junior, the were gone more than they were home.

He doesn't even remember when he last spoke to them in person. He thinks the last phone call was right after Starcourt. It was just to make sure Steve got to job hunting, since his place of employment had burned down and the bills wouldn't pay themselves. Which is true. He doesn't have to pay rent, but all the utilities are in his name now.

Jesus, he doesn't want to be thinking about them.

He goes back to the book, flipping through the pages absently. Halfway through the book he finds a couple folded pieces of paper tucked close to the spine. He doesn't have to open them to know exactly what they are.

It's the character sheets he'd made.

He closes the book back atop them and rolls over to face his ceiling. He wants to call Robin, but the phones are downstairs and he doesn't want to go down there just yet. He also kinda wants to cry. To get rid of all these emotions about Christopher, and Freshman First Day, and Eddie.

Fucking Eddie. Who haunts Steve's thoughts more than he'd like because despite the grudge Steve has been holding, Eddie has been fun to be around and so good with the kids, especially Dustin. Fuck, after having watched Dustin break down when they thought he was dead- but he'd had a pulse. It was weak but it was there.

After Eddie'd been cleared of the charges and the months rolled on into summer, they'd spent lots of time together as a group. Steve will admit he tried to avoid Eddie as best he could (he knows he's petty, okay) but could still see how he blended smoothly into their group.

If this Eddie had been the one he met on Freshman First Day, instead of the dick that mocked him, they might very well be friends now.

That's the crux of it all, Steve thinks. That he wouldn't mind being friends with Eddie if not for that bottled up grudge he'd been holding onto. He can't bring himself to let it go and Steve's not even sure why. Thoughts and feelings aren't something Steve processes quickly, and it usually helps to talk it out with Robin. She lets him stumble through his thoughts, and doesn't mock him for messing up, or mixing up, words.

Goddammit, if he's really going to try talking this out with Eddie, he's going to have be open and honest and maybe a little vulnerable and he doesn't know if he can do that.

But he'll have to. For better or worse, he can't just keep Eddie at arms length. They need to either come to the conclusion that they can be friends, or not, and then go from there. (Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to.)

In the end, Steve's not sure how long he just stares up at the ceiling but a sudden shout breaks him from his trance. It sounded like Dustin. Hellfire must have started.

Steve leaves his room to go lean against the half wall of the hallway, so he could look down to the dining table where everyone has gathered to play. No one notices him, so Steve sinks to the floor and turns, so he can lean against the wall, closes his eyes, and listens in.

The room below is filled with noise. Shouts of excitement, and groans of pain, and sighs of relief. Dustin yells at his dice when it rolls a Nat 1. Mike curses up a storm over a barely missed perception check that makes the party fall into a surprise round. He hears Lucas whoop happily and then what sounds like him taking several victory laps around the table.

He used to be an imaginative kid, able to easily conjure castle, and knights, and dragons in his mind's eye. Listening to Eddie describe a new location, or NPC, or monster makes it easy to bring that part of himself back. Eddie is descriptive and uses so many voices that Steve would be embarrassed to even attempt. But because Eddie is being descriptive, so is everyone else at the table. Erica has adopted an accent of some sort for her character. Dustin and Will go into great detail describing what they want their character to do. The older members of Hellfire do the same, and one of them is using an Irish accent that if he used while talking to Steve, he'd would think it was his first language.

Steve's not sure how long he sat there, long enough that they've taken a snack break and are back at it again, before he decides he might as well watch, too. He gets up and goes downstairs. There's a pause at the table when he wonders in and plops down on the couch. He makes eye contact with Eddie and offers a small half smile. Eddie grins back, and starts back into the game, pulling everyone's focus.

Watching is interesting. He gets to see the Party jab at each other, or lean over and whisper about something. It's nice, to see them being kids. Having fun.

They end around five and Steve is surprised at how quickly five hours had passed.

"So, Steve, how was watching your first DnD game?" Dustin asks, pausing on his way to the door to do so.

Steve considers teasing him, but he goes for honesty instead. "Pretty interesting. It might not be my last time observing. I gotta see you get killed sometime, right?"

"Rude, Steve. Rude," Dustin is grinning though.

"Tell your mom hi for me, and let me know when she's making pork chops again. I'd like to crash that dinner."

Dustin rolls his eyes and shakes his head but he hugs Steve before leaving. Between all the older Hellfire members, they all have rides home that aren't Steve or Eddie.

Speaking of the latter, he's slowly packing things away at the table. Clearly killing time so it won't look like he's intentionally staying after everyone's gone.

Soon, the house is empty again.

"So, I'm not sure... how to start this conversation," Eddie admits to the silence. He's still at the table, standing behind where he was previously sitting, fiddling with a die. "But, I'm sorry. For that day. You were right, you know? When you said I was lashing out at you first."

"Thanks. For the apology," Steve stands from the couch and moves to the table, toying with the tablecloth instead of looking at Eddie. "I, uhh, I'm not sure where to go from here, either? I spent such a long time angry at you. For pointing out all the things I'm bad at in front of everyone there. For making me feel like an idiot."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Now Steve looks up at Eddie. "You say that, but like, why? Are you sorry because what you did was shitty, or because you want to be my friend now?"

Eddie blinks, apparently thrown by Steve's question.

"Because, like, you were pretty dismissive of Lucas before Spring Break and he helped save your life. So, it's like, are you okay with being shitty if the people you hurt aren't people you like? 'Cause I used to be that way, and I'm not going to be friends with someone who is."

"Yeah, no, you're right," Eddie nods. "For all that I scream about conformity, and how stupid it is, I've been rather quick to dismiss everyone outside my own... group. I held rather close to that nerds verses jocks crap for too long. Lucas is a jock, but he's also a nerd, and so very loyal to his friends. And you- you're really fucking awesome."

"I am," Steve interrupts with a cheeky grin.

"Ass. But yeah, you're pretty awesome, and I've been feeling all fucked up today because, we could have been friends, couldn't we? In high school. If I'd just let you take the damn flier and kept my mouth shut."

"Hey, that's not all on you," Steve says. "I would have still joined the basketball team, and the swim team. And, like, I was so desperate for any shred of attention from my parents that I would never have picked Hellfire over sports meetups. I could have joined and still ended up a bully by sophomore year."

"Well, I didn't help-"

"I made those choices, Eddie. And it doesn't matter because it's in the past. So, like, we can just move forward. Start over, or whatever."

Eddie looks him up and down before giving one sharp nod, then breaking out into a wide grin, sticking his hand out for a handshake. "Hi. Name's Eddie Munson."

Steve laughs, reaching out to shake Eddie's hand. "Steve Harrington."

"Great, pleasure to meet you. Do you wanna hang out? We can play 20 questions. Get to know each other."

"Sure," Steve chuckles, extracting his hand from Eddie's. "Let me order some pizza first."

First time hanging out with Eddie alone. Guess they'll find out if they can be friends after all.

[missterious-figure]

I saw the swap question but what if the swap was Y/N was the new rare harpy at the casino and Sun,Moon,and Eclipses were charged as their animatronic handlers.

(Note, this y/n is male, but unlike the original reverse au, this one has a more shy personality)

The Birds of Paradise casino had always had a hard time getting their harpies in line. Not that the creatures were very aggressive, but when they fought each other or had to be given medicine. Human handlers would constantly be at risk from the harpies. So the casino bought three high quality animatronics to help. That worked quite well! So well, the casino wanted to test if they could become actually handlers. And the harpy the animatronics were assigned to happened to be you, a newly imported rose gold peacock harpy.

You had been at the Birds of Paradise casino a day, and you had hidden yourself in the corner of your room the whole time. You were a shy thing, and didn't like big changes, which is what this place was. The smells, humans and other harpies were foreign to you. You have been moved around company to company for most of your life, but this place was different. It was larger, and therefore had more humans and harpies. Too many for your liking. You would need time to get used to this.

The door to your private room creaked open, and you shuffled farther back into your makeshift nest of purple pillows and blankets. It was a human with a clipboard, a doctor, presumably, and he seemed to be talking to someone behind him. Someone you couldn't see because the door wasn't open wide enough. You couldn't hear him very well as he was whispering, but the word "medicine" caught in your ear. Medicine? You hated taking medicine! It tasted awful most of the time, and you didn't like things being force fed to you.

One of the reasons you were always being sold off was because you always made a hassle about medicine. Well, that and you having a hard time adjusting to things. The doctor moved away from the door, and someone else took his place... or something else? It was tall, taller then you, and had a round face, half black and half magenta. Sharp rays around it's face made it look almost like a flower. It's body was mostly black, with a red neck and grey arms and legs. Bright yellow eyes scanned the room until they found you. You didn't like this.

It moved past the doorframe and into your room, two more of it's kind following suit. The second was a yellow one with a half orange face, golden rays, blue neck and grey-white eyes. The third was mostly white. It's two toned face of white and blue made it look like a cresent moon. It's red eyes were very eerie. It had yellow neck and no rays. Instead, it wore a long night cap sort of thing. The yellow and white one were a little shorter than the black one, around your height most likely. As the three entered your room, the doctor shut the door behind them. A click could be heard. Fuck. You were now locked in here with these... things.

The three were all looking at you. You backed away further. Without a word, the black one slowly paced forward, careful with each step. You noticed he had a small plastic jar in his hand. You quietly bared your teeth at the stranger, but it held up a finger and shushed you.

"Easy, sweetheart. We're your new handlers! I'm Eclipse. That's Sun."

It- no, he noded his head to the yellow creature.

"And that's Moon."

He gestured to the white one.

"We want to take good care of you, okay? And to do that we need to give you some medicine to make sure you stay healthy."

His voice was weird and metallic. Actually, his whole body looked like metal. Then it clicked. These creatures weren't creatures at all. They were machines. You've never seen machines like this before, and you weren't sure you like it. Meanwhile, he was still slowly creeping towards you. The other two were making their way over as well. It felt like ages, but all three finally reached your nest. Eclipse opened the lid of the small jar and shook a three pills onto his palm. Every feather on your body bristled.

"The quicker you eat these, the quicker we can go get you some food. Doesn't that sound good?"

He held them out to you, but you were already upset at the mere sight of the pills. With in angry hiss, you tried to slap his advancing hand away. But you were caught by the white robot, Moon. Grabbing you firmly, yet not hurting you. He dragged you out of your nest, whimpering and kicking. You tried to free your hand from his grip. When that failed, you calmed down a bit, only a bit, and looked away. Moon smiled mocking at you, before repositioning himself behind you, moving his hand to your wrist and using his other to prop your back. Sun came on your other side and grabbed your free arm. He, too, placed a hand on your back.

Eclipse walked behind you before placing one hand on your shoulder. He gently placed the other before your mouth, the pills still there.

"Open wide, sweetheart. I'm not going to pry you mouth open, but we won't let you go until you take them. It's for your own good."

You could tell he was serious, and the three of them where stronger then you. You couldn't wrestle your way out of this. Looking down you scrunched your face in disgust. You reluctantly licked them out of Eclipse's palm. To your surprise, they didn't taste bad. They tasted like strawberries. You were tempted to chew them, but it seems like Eclipse guessed that. He put his hand under your chin and massaged your throat, and used his thumb to rub your cheek. This coaxed you to swallow, and the pills were soon gone.

The three robots let you go. As soon as they did, you immediately rushed back into your nest, going so fast you almost bonked your head into the wall. Only when you where out from between the three of them did you notice how much the feathers on your cheeks were puffing up. It wasn't because of aggression, though. You were thoroughly flustered. You tried to calm you beating heart, trying to think of anything besides the way they hand held you and how it made you feel. But the more you tried to ignore it, the more the recently made memory kept playing back in your head.

You turned your back to the watching animatronics and covered your face with a pillow. Before leaving, Eclipse spoke.

"You did well, sweetheart. Now, what would you like to eat?"

You peeked back a little before pathetically squeaking.

"Just some strawberries, please."

"Of course."

With that the three left you alone in your room.

...

A few days later, you've gotten a whole lot more comfortable. Comfortable enough to start performing. So you did. It wasn't easy at first, but the stage fright was soon gone. But something that had never left you was that feeling you had for those animatronics. And they didn't make it any easier for you to forget. They had taken quite the liking to you. They teased and flirted with you on a daily basis. They were good handlers, but man, they knew how to get you good. You were shy around them and almost never participated in direct flirting, sure, but any time you noticed them watching your performances, you found yourself trying to show off. Dancing more gracefully and purposely giving them teasing glances. Flustering them. Challenging them.

They couldn't get enough of it and neither could you.

[ja3hwa]

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

【Synopsis】 : After the couple of nights teasing and testing the waters. San finally makes a plan to corrupt your sweet mind once and for all.

『Word count』 : 2.27k

-> Genre: Smut. Fluff. 

Paring: Idol!San x Female!Reader 

[Warnings] : Cursing. Cyberpunk outfit san (yes, this is a warning) some insecure thoughts. Dirty talk. Foreplay. Kinda shy reader. Virgin reader. Corruption kink. Pet names. Fingering (f receiving). Unprotected sex. (Dont do that).

Note : Thank you for the requester from Wattpad for this. They asked for a part two to my bend fic with a cyberpunk outfit twist... So I hope you enjoy it. Also, I'm trying out a knew layout, so ignore me, hehe.

Masterlist | Navigation | Part One

Frustration and fear would be the only things to describe your emotions right now. After the little sexual activities San and You had performed four nights ago, you couldn’t help but play it in detail over and over in your mind. You wanted, needed, fuck, you craved it. you were going to go insane if you didn’t have another taste of San. And he was not helping, sending you not so safe for work texts or sending photos of his very sexy stage outfits for his performances he and his members have been doing since the comeback happened. What is worse about seeing your boyfriend in such gorgeous outfits is that you are unable to touch him in them. Once he is home, he is already washed up, make up free and outfit gone.

You couldn’t lie when you said you had fantasies of San fucking the living day lights out of you in one of the outfits, especially the Cyberpunk ones. The black crop top, black straps and fake Anarchy symbol tattoo that was displayed on your boyfriends lower tummy. You needed him so badly. But then the shyness comes in, you couldn’t possibly tell him what you wanted. Tell him how much you wanted to feel his cock poun―

“Darling. You awake?” San’s sweet voice echoed through the house, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“In here...” You couldn’t say anything else as you voice cracked. You could feel your heart beat in your ears and your legs wobbled as you tried to walk over to the door of your bedroom. San had turned you on that much, you felt embarrassed that you were that weak for him.

“Hey my baby. Why are you in here?” His voice was drowned out by the fuzziness in your brain suddenly turning up, ten-fold. He was in one of his stage outfits, more specifically, cyberpunk one. Oh no this is not going to end well..

“S-Sannie, w-hy are you wearing that?” You completely disregarded his question, asking one of your own instead. San tilted his head in innocence, looking down at himself before letting out a small chuckle follow by his classic feline smile.

“oh this? Yeah, I have to wear this outfit tomorrow for a photo shoot. So I made a suggestion that I wear it home since I need to tomorrow. It also saves the stylist in trying to find it later.” His ramble did not help the heat growing in your stomach. His voice was so low and raspy from singing all day. You can even see a little form of sweat coating him from the performances. He was a Greek god amongst men. And he was yours.

“Are you okay baby? You keep going quiet?” He took a step forward become only a couple centimeters from your trembling body. Sometimes you think you are living in a dream, how could someone like San be with you? He was sculpted like a porcelain statue and aging like a fine vintage wine. You were plan, normal. Nothing special. How could you end up together.

“Earth to y/n. Come in Darling?” He shook his hands in front of your blushed red face. You finally looked up to him, seeing how close his face was to yours. “Are you okay?” He asked again, rubbing his hand along your frame until it found place against your hip.

“I…Yeah. I’m fine. I’m sorry.” You apologize for acting weird, but San kisses your forehead in protest, saying there was nothing to be sorry for. You hugged him for a moment, taking in his presence, making you feel better.

“So what do you think? I remember you like my outfits. But wasn’t this one like the second or fifth on your list?” His question made you gulp as you sat down on the edge of the bed, fearing you’d fall if you kept standing. He did a little twirl for you, stretching his arms up so he could show off the fit. He knew what he was doing. He knew this was your favourite stage fit, but he wanted to hear it from you directly. He needed to get praise from you. It was like a drug, and he craved it.

“Actually it’s my favourite outfit.” You whispered, biting your nails slightly while you unknowingly checked him out. He pretended as if he didn’t know with a little ‘oh’ slipping off his tongue.

“I have the fake―” He pulled the crop top up slightly so the tattoo could be put on full display. “You want to touch it?” His words came out desperately, making your eyes widen. You nodded like an idiot, watching your boyfriend walk closer to you so he could stand in between your legs. You were eye level with the fake tattoo, letting your fingers graze over it. His abs tensed at the feeling, a tingle in his gut growing.

“It looks so good on you.” You said without thinking.

“Yeah? That’s what you’re thinking?” His teasing nature erupted with the hint of greed. Call him weak, but if he had to, he would get on his knees and beg for you to praise him. Maybe he's got a praise kink, but that was a conversation he didn’t want to have. Not right now, anyway. Even though your brain was fuzzy, you could see the way San’s eyes sparkled when you spoke about him. You weren't as innocent as he thought. You might not know what to do in sexual situations, but to heck, if you didn’t know how to read a person. Especially San.

“I think the whole outfit looks good on you.” You spoke with a little more confidence, gripping the hem of his crop top tugging it, in hopes he got the hint. “You also look good if you have nothing on.”

It was like a switch went off in his mind. You, his innocent―well so he thought―partner basically asking him to take his clothes off. He sent you a devilish smirk, slowly guiding his hands up to the clips of his straps. You gulp feeling instant embarrassment from your statement.

“Is this what you wanted, baby? Wanted to see me naked?” His deep voice made your head dizzy, tucking your face in your hand to hide the blush that surely painted your face the moment he walked into the room. He shook the straps off, watching you intensely at your reaction of shyness. He lived to see the corruption fill your senses, so once he threw his straps somewhere in the room, he pounced. His lips latched to yours, making your head spin. His hand gripped the back of your neck to pull out closer. His knee pushed up against the bed, in between your legs, letting you grind slightly on his thick thigh.

“San…” you moan straight into his mouth, making him groan in response. His free hand that was found perched on your hip glided slowly towards your ache between your legs. His long fingers were quick to wrap around the small flimsy fabric known as you sleep shorts before pulling them off in one motion. You showed no fear, letting him grab your panties straight after so he could pull them off the same way. His lips never left yours through this whole moment, wanting to pamper you before he had his way.

“Pretty.” A word slipped off his tongue, making his mouth leave yours so it could latch on your jaw, then your neck. Sucking and biting at your hot flesh. You never felt such excitement, and you begin to crave it the more you feel your boyfriend’s tongue dancing on you.

As if he understood what your thoughts were saying, his brought on hand to the inner part of your left thigh. Finger tips dangerously close your soaked pussy. You whined, body trashing slightly as if it has a mind of it’s own. Like a primal instinct has taken over. You moan out his name twice, or was it four? You sounded like a broken record and San hadn't even touched you that much.

“My perfect baby. You sound so nice when you beg. But begging isn’t needed tonight. I’ll give you whatever you want…” His lips place kisses on your exposed stomach, sending chills down your spine. “…that’s if you tell me what you want. Come on, tell me, and it's yours. What do you want.”

You choked out another whimper, knowing San was going to pull something like this. He needed you to tell him exactly what you wanted. He needed to hear the filthy words leave your lips. He needed to know every detail that you fantisise in your pretty little head. “San…”

“What’s it baby? What do you need?”

“I want…” He sat completely up, moving back up so he was face to face with you so he could see your eyes flutter with the shyness as they slowly slipped into corruption. “I want you to fuck me. Please, make me feel good.”

“Fuck…” He groans, never seeing something as gorgeous as you asking him to rail you. He had surely died and gone to heaven. “Detail, what exactly do you want?” he needed more…

“I want you to fuck me with your outfit on.”

More…

“I want to feel you deep inside me.”

More…

“Please San if you don’t stick your cock inside me I’m going to scream.”

His brain short circuited, his hands and body moving like they were born to play with you. Stripping you from your pj’s entirely, his mouth latched on your hard nipple while his fingers slipped into your soaking hole with ease. He pumped quickly, bringing his thumb to your sensitive bud, circling it. Your hands fly to grip his shoulders, nails digging into the harsh fabric. Your head flew back, choking out his name over and name. His pace became faster, tilting his hand up so he could sink his fingers deeper inside you, pulling your orgasm closer within the seconds. “San I think I’m gonna…”

“let go for me, baby. I wanna feel you tighten around my fingers.” His dirty words tipped you over the edge, seeing white spots cloud your vision as you convulsed under him. You’ve never felt such an intense orgasm before in your life, feeling like you could walk through fire and not get burned. Once your high came down, he pulled out his soaked fingers slowly before taking them in his mouth, tasting your sweet juices. You panted, letting out a little whine while you watched your boyfriend.

“You ready for more?” His voice was deep, gravelled, but it was laced with love. One side of his brain was screaming, aching to pound you and fuck you into next week until you see stars or pass out, but the other side wanted to make sure your first time was comfortable. He needed to show you how fun sex can be, how loving it can be. And besides, he has all the time in the world to corrupt you.

“Yes…” you whispered, snaking your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. A smirk crept on his lips while they connected to yours, hand snaking down to grip the base of his cock so he could trail his tip along your folds. You took a large inhale, feeling a sense of excitement and worry. It was finally happening, you were finally going to go all the way. His tip slipped slightly into your enterance, making you wiggle in anticapation.

His dark chuckle that erupted from his chest made you roll you hips without thinking, feeling more of his cock slip inside. He took this as a green light, bottoming you out until you can feel his balls hit againsts your ass. Your nails dig into his shoulders feeling the painful sensation soon fade away into pure blissful pleasure. His thrusts started off slow, his hand snaked around your thigh pulling you closer. His lips felt yours and you tried to chase them―which made him laugh lightly―. He sat up pulling a pillow from beside you so he could place it under your hips. You watched him with curiousity, as he basically fluffed it before placing you onto the said folded pillow.

“Comfy.” His cheeky voice made your heart flutter as you replied with a small yes, following with a giggle. His hand pulled your legs to wrap around his waist, instructing you to lock them against him, which you did gladly. Your eyes gazed over his body from head to toe. Your eyes met the sight where your bodies were connected, and you couldn’t help but clench around him. “Like what you see, Doll?”

You bring your hands up to cover your face, groaning at him just freely being dirty in what seemed like a tender moment. He let out a chuckle at your reaction, leaning down you kiss between your breasts in order to distract you. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer. His thrusts started to pick up again, making you seemingly forget about your embarrassment. Grunts escaped San’s lips, losing himself for a moment with your velvet walls tightening around him. “Does that feel good?” He smugly asked.

“Y-yes.” You panted, your chest heaving as yours nails dig lightly into his biceps.

“Good...” He suddenly fell to lay on his back, bringing you along with him. His head almost hangs off the bed, as he plants his feet behind you, bringing his knees up behind your back “Then ride me, baby.”

A whimper escaped your mouth as you slid back onto him with ease. You slide your hands down his chest, over his flat abs, feeling how they contracted under your touch. You started moving, finding the right rhythm, completely pushing away the shyness you felt before. You threw back your head, supporting yourself onto his thighs as you lose yourself in the moment of oure bliss. His hands gripped your hips, bucking his hips into you harder.

He sat up, his fingers digging harder in your flesh, bouncing you on his cock faster. He grunts against your throat, enveloping you in his arms, so he could hold you close as you wrap your arms around his neck, twisting your fingers in his hair. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, so he needed to make sure he could let you cum before him. Few more thrusts and your body shakes in pleasure, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your walls flutter around him, triggering his release as he spills inside you with a muffled grunt lightly biting your shoulder.

“Perfect” He smiles, breathing against your heated skin, his fingers lazily running up and down your back. Tangling his fingers in your hair, finding your lips, he kissed you passionatly...

- ♡

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Seven

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

PJO show is living rent free in my head everyone. I love that funky little fantasy show

Anyway, welcome to part 7, where we learn more about some of the kids' powers, get a peek into Steve's growing troubles with his powers, and Steddie get a fun little development too

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

Oh! And a meme, another meme for you at the end lol

---------

While the kids have no problem adjusting to Camp Half-Blood and making friends (several of the other campers have asked El to freeze them if only because they think it's funny), Steve runs into a few bumps. He's not used to relaxing. He's not used to letting his guard down and having the children out of sight for so long. And he's definitely not used to his powers feeling beyond his control whenever Eddie is around, which is...well, always.

Don't get Steve wrong. He likes being around Eddie. In fact, he looks forward to it. Steve hasn't smiled or laughed this much or been around someone his own age in a while. It's new and kind of weird and just a little scary.

But it doesn't at all help with his growing nervous energy. He keeps waiting for a shoe to drop, quickly followed by another. It never does, and Steve fully realizes what a problem this is when Eddie is in his room one day and casually says, "Your clouds are different."

Steve blinks, looking over at Eddie in one of the chairs. He has a guitar in his lap, idly strumming as Steve's phone plays music for them. Steve had just been nodding off, feeling relaxed and sleepy when Eddie spoke. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"They changed again." Eddie says, frowning slightly as he points at the clouds drifting along the ceiling. They're a slate color now, not exactly brewing up a storm but looking ready to start pouring down on them. They aren't gloomy, though. It's more like...like the tension you feel when a natural disaster is about to strike and the clouds are the only warning you'll get of its arrival. "They were starting to turn white, but they're grey again."

"Oh," Steve says, flopping back on the bed with a sigh. "They're supposed to reflect my mood."

He hears the chair shift and steps coming closer to the bed before Eddie sprawls across the mattress next to him. "What's got you so grey, sweetheart?" he asks. Their hands aren't touching, but Steve can feel that now-familiar buzz at his fingertips, the little arches of lightning begging to reach out if he'd only let them.

Steve curls his fingers into a fist, refusing to succumb to the urge. He considers lying, just brushing off the question, but then he makes the mistake of looking at Eddie. He looks right into Eddie's brown eyes, and his resolve crumbles. His fist uncurls, their fingertips brush, and he allows a harmless spark to pass between them. "I'm just on edge," he says, looking back at the ceiling and watching the clouds. "Restless, I guess."

"You're used to fighting monsters and moving across the country, Stevie," Eddie says, sliding his hand closer to Steve's so their fingers are tangled together and a current begins to pass between them. "Being all...still is getting to you."

"Yeah, no shit," Steve says with a quiet snort. "Can't do anything about it."

"Well...there is Capture the Flag next week," Eddie points out, shifting closer, like their hands aren't enough. Now their arms and shoulders are pressed together, and Steve inexplicably feels some of that nervous energy disappear, like Eddie is taking it from him. "It can be an all-out bloodbath, you know."

Steve huffs softly, getting a wry smile. "I'm not sure anyone's gonna want to be on my team," he says. The other campers avoid him. Despite his best efforts, his attack on the patrol campers spread fast and mean, and everyone is a little wary. "So, unless I can be on a team by myself, it probably isn't gonna happen."

A few beats of silence pass, and Steve is about to assume he's somehow fucked up the conversation when Eddie says, "You wouldn't be alone. There's me. And the kids. And I could get the Hermes Cabin to partner with you. Plus, you know, you're a Zeus kid, Stevie. You ask to be in charge and nobody's gonna argue."

He...hadn't thought of that. Steve frowns slightly, letting the idea turn in his mind. It would be a challenge, of course, especially if all the other cabins decide to team up. But...a challenge means pushing himself, reaching limits he's never come close to, letting go completely and losing himself in the battle, whether he wins or not.

The clouds above them start to roll, broiling with the energy of a storm that's all thunder and lightning, and excitement surges through Steve. He doesn't even realize he's letting it get the better of him until Eddie yelps and jerks his hand away.

Steve blinks, jerking up and reaching out to Eddie but stopping halfway. "I'm sorry," he says, frowning slightly as he watches Eddie look at his hand. "I'm really sorry. Are you hurt?"

"No, no, it was more...," Eddie trails off, and then he gets an obnoxious grin and looks up at Steve. "It was more the shock of it."

A beat passes before Steve groans, grabs his pillow, and whacks Eddie in the face with it. Eddie dramatically falls back on the bed, lamenting Steve's cruelty and superior fighting skills as Steve laughs. When Eddie finally stops hamming it up, he pushes the pillow away and says, "So, I'd guess you're excited?"

Steve rolls his eyes, his cheeks hurting from smiling. "I...have an idea already, yeah," he says, looking at Eddie and leaning closer. "Wanna hear it?"

"Hell yeah," Eddie says, his eyes lighting up as Steve lays it all out.

And so begins a week of planning.

It's a week (most of which was spent convincing the Hermes Cabin to join his team and agree to just sit back and guard the flag) that leaves Steve buzzing with energy on the day of Capture the Flag. Eagerness makes his limbs tingle and his body beg to pace as he looks over the demigods in front of him. It's just the Hermes Cabin, Eddie, and the kids, meaning they're facing off against the rest of the camp.

He can't blame the Hermes kids for looking like they've already been defeated. The only reason they're still hanging around, Steve is sure, is because he and the kids promised to do all of their chores for two months if they lose.

Steve takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders back, and consciously lets go of the Mist around him. He's used to holding it close, using it to cover himself and make him look, well, weaker, that he has to purposefully send it off. He knows the moment it's completely abandoned him; the demigods all stand straighter, only the kids and Eddie dare to meet his eyes, and the snakes poking through the hole in El's beanie start tasting the air with interest.

"You've put your faith in me," Steve says, his volume normal but his voice still booming in the otherwise silent clearing. "You probably think we're fucked, but you'd be wrong. So, listen up. I will be offense. Eddie, Will, and El will be extraction. And you, with the strength of numbers, will be defense. Guard this flag with your life, and we will win. If any of the enemy manages to slip past me, hold steady. You are the final line of defense. Your job is the most important, and I expect you to give it your all."

The hesitant expressions have become impassioned, if not a bit confused by the fact. Steve grins at them, feeling the air crackle between his teeth as his excitement grows. He exhales sparks, his fingers buzzing and his skin close to bursting.

Steve doesn't often pray to Zeus. He's never felt a need to, and several goddesses have made themselves better known to him. But now, as excited for the fight as he is, Steve thinks to Zeus, If you've never watched me before, then watch me now.

He puts on his Blue-Team helmet, the distant horn ringing in his ears as the lightning floods through him, and heads into battle.

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

Eddie's role is simple: keep El and Will from getting hurt. He'd be offended at the simplicity if he weren't already plenty aware of his inability to fight well. He's built for defense and retreat, which is why he's got his shield at the ready and is preparing himself to jerk the kids back at the slightest hint of danger.

They're crouching behind some dense bushes, Will and El peeking through the gaps at some Red-Team campers, the first line of defense for the red flag. "So, what's the plan?" Eddie whispers, shifting slightly as he looks between the two kids. Thunder rumbles, and it takes every shred of Eddie's self-control to not look at the gathering storm clouds above them.

"Will makes them daydream," El whispers back, her beanie squirming as though the snakes can feel their imminent freedom. "If that does not work, I will turn them to stone."

Eddie slowly nods, glancing at Will as he cups his hands to his mouth and whispers unintelligible words into them. "And, uh, how is making them daydream supposed to help with distractions?" he asks.

"They are very strong daydreams," El replies.

Will finishes whispering, and a purple dust-like swirling mist is nestled in his palms. He nods to El, waiting for her to carefully make a larger opening in the leaves before gently blowing the mist from his hands. Eddie watches as it twists and curls around the Red-Team campers, slipping under their sleeves and floating to their ears and eyes. The mist settles there, a thin and nearly imperceptible film that Eddie wouldn't know to see if he hadn't watched Will make it.

A few seconds pass as the campers slowly relax, their grips on their weapons loosening until a few swords fall to the ground. El waits a few more seconds before picking up a sizeable pebble and throwing it at a tree across from them. Despite making a loud thud when it hits and falls to the ground, none of the campers blink or move an inch. The only movement Eddie can see is a slight sway and the occasional twitch of fingers, like their body is trying to follow through on movements they make in their daydreams.

"Metal," Eddie whispers, keeping pace with El and Will as they move out from behind the bush. If everything is this easy, they'll get back in time to see Steve fighting. Eddie would love if he could see Steve fighting again. "How did you do that?"

Will flushes slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not a lot, really," he says, his voice quiet and a little embarrassed. "I mean, I just use dream-speak to give the daydreams specific emotions and then send it over."

"Dream-speak?"

"You know how you can't read in dreams? And if you try to remember exact conversations, you can only get snippets or a word or two? That's dream-speak," Will explains. He thinks for a few seconds before adding, "It's, um, supposed to feel intangible."

"How long does it last?"

"Usually," El says, her voice soft as she pauses and gestures for Eddie and Will to follow, "around twenty minutes. But it depends on the person." She leads them to large boulder, all of them ducking behind it in time for some Red-Team campers to walk by.

"Holy shit," one of them says, looking in the distance at the gathering storm clouds as she slows down. "Man, I am fucking glad we're not fighting that Zeus kid."

"No kidding," the other mumbles. "He's a monster."

Eddie has heard plenty of people call Steve a monster in the past week. Most of them say it with awe in their voices, unable to find any other word to describe the sheer power they saw from Steve. But others, like the one here, say it like Steve is a monster for them to defeat for the glory of it.

He clenches his jaw, grip on his shield straps tightening some. Before he can do anything, El reaches up to her beanie, and Will slaps a hand over Eddie's eyes. He hears the hiss of a writhing mass of snakes, aborted shouts, and then nothing. When Will takes his hand away, the two campers are statues, shock and terror contorting their expressions. El, with her beanie back in place, considers them for a moment before turning. "We should keep moving."

Eddie doesn't argue, but he does hold up a fist to El, grinning when she slowly bumps it with her own. She then turns to Will, her expression expectant, and she flashes her own tiny smile that matches Will's when their fists gently bump together.

Of every game Eddie has participated in, this game of Capture the Flag is by far his most relaxed. Will and El seem to have plenty of experience sneaking around and launching sneak-attacks. The closest Eddie gets to seeing any kind of action is when a Red-Team camper happens to stumble across them on their way back from the bathroom. Even then, before Eddie can raise his shield to block their sword, El slides in front of him and rips off her beanie.

"Thanks," he says, keeping his gaze away until the beanie is back on.

"You are welcome," El replies, staying quiet for a few seconds before adding, "Steve would be sad if you got hurt."

With that statement dropped on him, she continues leading the way to the Red-Team base. By the time they reach it, several Red-Team campers have been deployed to support the other campers fighting Steve. Between those, the ones stationed on the other side of the forest, and the campers they've disposed of, only twenty remain to guard the flag.

"I'm surprised the Athena kids aren't more prepared for you," Eddie whispers, glancing at El. She's the kind of secret weapon everyone knows about and prepares for, but he hasn't seen any of that so far.

El glances at Eddie, considering her response for a few moments before looking at Will. When he nods, she says, "I have not told Steve, but the Head Camper for Athena approached me two days ago. She offered me a personally-designed weapon if I did not use my powers during the game."

"El agreed," Will says, picking up the explanation with ease, "and promised not to use her powers to steal the flag."

"I am not stealing the flag," El finishes, a proud smile tugging at her lips, "I am capturing it."

"You're a little devil, you know that?" Eddie asks, grinning brightly.

"No. I am a little gorgon."

-----

They leave a garden of statues in their wake, and El takes a few moments to sigh and say it's not as good as her mother's before they leave with the Red-Team flag carefully hidden under Will's shirt. As they approach the border between the team territories, the sounds of battle grow. Swords clash, fighters shout, and lightning cracks between them all.

"We can take the long way," Eddie offers, his tone reluctant as he glances in the direction of the fight. They're close enough that a few trees are singed on the edges from lightning strikes, and Eddie holds his shield tighter. Letting the kids get anywhere near that fight isn't protecting them, and he should direct them in a wide circle around it.

But something is calling him, urging him closer to the fight in a way he's never felt before. He's not an Ares kid---Eddie has no desire to enter a blood bath---but he gets the feeling that Steve is going to need him soon.

"El and I can make it by ourselves," Will offers. "It's only a few feet away, and the game ends once we cross, right?"

Eddie nods, frowning before taking a deep breath. "No, it's okay," he says, waving for the kids to keep moving. "We'll try to head straight through and end the game sooner."

It's a choice he was expecting to regret, but doesn't get the chance. Nobody notices them, even when they get close enough to see a swarm of Red-Team campers surrounding Steve. None of them glance in their direction, too distracted by the fight to spare any attention to three insignificant campers sneaking by. Thunder rumbles endlessly above them, a deafening soundtrack that's only broken by cracks of lightning striking the ground and knocking campers back a few feet.

"Steve is having fun," El observes, sounding happy for him as they approach the Blue-Team border.

"He's never really let go, huh?" Eddie asks, getting a quick peek at Steve through the swarm. He lost his helmet at some point, leaving his feral expression and static-raised hair in full view, and arches of lightning jump across his body, occasionally reaching out to strike any Red-Team campers that get too close.

"No," Will says, his voice soft as they approach the border. The moment Will steps over, the horn sounds in the distance, and Eddie waits for the fighting to stop.

But it doesn't. Nobody in the swarm seems to realize the game is over. They continue to attack Steve, and Steve continues to fight against them, the air churning and sparking and ready to burst. A few seconds pass before Eddie realizes they won't stop until only one side is left standing. He gets it. Kind of. Steve carries the air of royalty; a challenge. If you can beat the son of Zeus, a literal Prince of Olympus, the glory of that achievement is untold. And it seems his fellow campers have fallen prey to that glory, utterly lost to it

Eddie feels that urge to join Steve surge through him again. He swallows around a sudden lump of nerves in his throat, searching for any other peek at Steve he can get as he says, "You guys go ahead. I'll help Steve. We'll catch up."

He doesn't bother waiting for El or Will to answer. He just rushes into the battle, something he never expected himself to do. Somehow, he doesn't meet any resistance. Lightning strikes the ground around him, pushing Red-Team campers back and urging him on, and Eddie wonders if Steve knows he's coming.

When he finally reaches the center of the battle, he sees Steve swing his bat against someone's side, the nails dragging painfully before he kicks the person back. Steve has lost his chest plate as well, and the only armor he has left are the wrist guards. There are slashes in his clothes and the edges are burnt. Eddie is almost distracted by the sight until he sees a daughter of Ares rush Steve from behind, her sword raised to bring down on his back.

In a move of unprecedented grace (seriously, Eddie will look back on that moment and never understand how he managed to not trip over himself), Eddie springs into the battle. He rushes at Steve, sliding behind him, twisting, and raising his shield in one smooth movement. The sword comes down on his shield, sending vibrations down his arm but otherwise causing no harm to him or Steve. Eddie pushes back as hard as he can, sending the daughter of Ares sprawling before pressing his back to Steve's.

"Thanks," Steve says, his words crackling and sparking against Eddie's ear. He thinks it's just a phantom sensation at first, but Eddie soon realizes lightning is literally arching between them, jumping across their shoulders and through their hair and buzzing down Eddie's chest.

He licks his lips, electric ozone lingering on his tongue, and Eddie is fascinated by the taste. "No problem," he says, his body following Steve without thinking. It's easy when he can feel the bolts of lightning between them start to shift, telling him which way Steve is going so he can keep up. "You know the game is over, right?"

"This is the most fun I've had in years," Steve replies, his tone implying that should explain everything.

And, yeah, it kind of does. He sounds genuinely happy and thrilled, his voice teeming with eagerness that's punctuated by the sound of his bat hitting a Red-Team camper in the head hard enough to make their helmet ring.

Eddie knows Steve would stop if he asked. Eddie knows he could talk Steve down from this lightning-fueled battle high. Eddie decides that wouldn't be nearly as fun.

"Okay," he says, pressing closer to Steve's back and blocking an arrow headed straight for Steve's shoulder. "Have fun, sweetheart."

Eddie didn't know it was possible, but Steve's power surges again, like it was just simmering under his skin, waiting for permission. And Eddie gave it. Bolts strike from the clouds above while arches jump across Steve and Eddie, running down their arms and leaping at Red-Team campers who get too close. They don't stop; the lightning continues to jump from camper to camper, electrocuting whoever it touches, and Eddie realizes he should have been electrocuted, too.

He blocks another sword, lightning crackling along the edges of his shield and shooting off sparks when its hit, and looks at the white-blue arches running along his arm. Without thinking, Eddie touches one, a gentle buzzing spreading through his hand as the arch transfers and jumps around his palm. It tickles more than anything else, and Eddie would think it's harmless if a Red-Team spear didn't get close enough for the lightning to jump and shock the camper unconscious.

It's not that the lightning jumping between him and Steve is harmless, Eddie realizes, it's just that it won't hurt him. He feels like some of the lightning has settled in his chest, crackling and warm and soothing. Eddie glances over his shoulder, taking in Steve's breathless smile and the way light splashes across his face with each bolt that hits the ground and the sparks that jump from his bat.

That feeling he got when he first saw Steve, the breathlessness and awestruck realization that the whole prophecy was just him, hits Eddie all over again. He lingers in it for a few seconds, letting it wash over him and settle in his limbs, before getting yanked out by a particularly close lightning bolt that makes his ears ring.

Right. A fight. That he's part of.

Eddie forces himself to focus on defending Steve's back. He blocks arrows and swords and shields and, once, a battle axe that makes his shield groan. That one pisses him off some. This shield was a gift from Hermes, a gift that showed surprising knowledge of Eddie's interests, and he'll be damned if it breaks. As though fueled by his anger, the lightning on his shield crackles and shoots down the battle axe, converging on the camper until she drops the axe with a yelp.

He doesn't get to linger on that too long; another arrow comes straight at Steve again, and Eddie is far more occupied by blocking it. And so it continues. Steve fights, lightning strikes, and Eddie defends him the entire time, giving Steve the space and security to just let go and release all the energy that had been building since he arrived at camp.

It's over sooner than he expects. One moment, Eddie's arm is buzzing from a particularly strong hit to his shield, and the next, the field is silent. Thunder still rumbles above them, lightning still crackles around them, and Eddie's heartbeat is pounding in his ears. Campers are scattered around them, all breathing but most knocked out for a while. Eddie takes a deep breath, feeling the air spark harmlessly in his lungs, and slowly lets it out.

He rolls his shoulder and retracts his shield, placing it around his neck again before turning around. "You good?" he asks, looking Steve over for any obvious injuries. His clothes are even more singed, the hem of his shirt blackened, and his hair is sticking up wildly but still somehow perfect. Steve's tense, his muscles strained as he pants, looking around them before his gaze finally lands on Eddie. He's still gripping his bat tightly, his knuckles white, and Eddie is about to gently pull it away when Steve just drops it.

Eddie blinks, frowning slightly as he starts to ask Steve if he's okay. And then he can't speak at all, because Steve's hands are cupping his cheeks and Steve's chest is pressed against his own, and Steve's lips are thoroughly occupying his. Lightning shoots through Eddie, jumping down his throat as Steve's tongue licks past his lips.

It doesn't hurt, though. Nothing from Steve could actually hurt him; instead, it makes his fingers tingle and his lips buzz and his heart jackrabbit against his ribs. Eddie is filled with an inescapable energy, and there's only one way to expel it.

So, he kisses Steve back. Eddie wraps an arm around Steve's waist to tug him closer and pushes a hand into Steve's hair, finally feeling the soft strands tangling between his fingers. He tilts his head and lets Steve have the quiet groan that slips from him when tiny bolts jump from Steve's molars to Eddie's tongue.

Eddie is breathless and floating and completely under Steve's spell and...and...and he's confused. Because Steve yanks himself away, a panicked noise in the back of his throat as he takes a step back. His chest is still heaving, but Eddie knows it's for a different reason now. Steve starts to say something, his lips swollen and red and begging Eddie to kiss him again, but no words come out.

And then he does something Eddie never expected Steve to do. He runs. He panics so badly that he runs back toward the Blue-Team base, leaving Eddie in the middle of the Red-Team carnage with a floaty brain and a stupid smile.

Maybe, if it had been anyone else, Eddie would be panicking, too. He'd be worried about the person actually liking him, worried about what the kiss meant, worried about any number of things, really. But it's Steve. Eddie knows Steve. He knows Steve's laugh and his walk and his lightning and now his kiss.

There are only two possible reasons for Steve running away: either he panicked because the kiss was too sudden, too heat-of-the-moment, or he panicked because of the literal lightning he sent through Eddie. Both are easily addressed, easy to soothe Steve down from freaking out about so they can get to kissing again.

Eddie's smile widens some, and he takes one last look at the campers around him before carefully making his way past them, figuring he should tell Chiron they'll be needing ambrosia and nectar.

-------

Tag List

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane, @hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun,

@paintgonewrong, @sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal, @fallingchemicaldiscos, @am-i-obssed-probably, @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@estrellami-1, @fandomcartographer, @steddie-as-they-go, @cris-wants-a-word, @potato-of-the-lord, @plasticcrotches, @enigmahaze, @melodymeddler, @lololol-1234, @sageclipse, @steddiehyperfixation, @livelaughlexa, @genderless-spoon

For those who made it this far, a meme:

[amm479842356]

Timothee was never a very popular kid. He was always the kid that everyone either hated or liked. He was at the top of his class and on the chess team. Worst of all, he was made fun of for being gay. The jocks always thought it was funny to pick on him. He hated them so much. He was absolutely revolted by the thought of ever even being friends with one.

One day Timothee was sitting is in the gym locker room when the most annoying of the jocks came in, Jake. "Yo wassup bro" Jake said. Timothee had just made a B+ on his math exam and wasn't happy about it. "Go away" he said. "Oh we got a hero, now do we? We'll see how long that lasts." And with that, Jake whistled for his bros.

Timothee tried to make a run for it but one of Jake's friends grabbed him. "Where do ya think you're going, nerd?" He was forcefully sat down and the jock put leather restraints on his legs while another put them on his hands. Finally, a strap was put on his neck and with that, Timothee couldn't move.

He could hear the other jocks laughing. Jake turned the lights off and said "Night, bro." "Why would he say br-" and with that, he heard a loud hissing sound and when he looked up, he saw it. A gas pouring out from the ceiling. He started to get dizzy and right before he passed out, he felt a sharp jab in his neck.

When he woke up, he wasn't in the locker room, but in what looked like the Janitors closet. "What the fuck? Where am I? Wait, why did I say that, I know where I a- I- uhh I kno- I don't know".

Timothee went home and continued his night like normal. He got a shower the next day and while getting ready for a wedding, something weird happened. "Bro I don't know what to wear." Normally Timothee always picked out the perfect outfits, not to mention the night before. "Whatever, must have forgot." He put on his clothes and thought nothing more of it.

The next day. Timothy was at school and he had a quiz in Alegebra. He knew everything super well. "Ima fucking ace this shit. Huh? Why di- uhh whatever, I'm ready for this shit." Except when he finished, he got a C-. "Wait what!? I always get a- wait, I got a C. That's fucking good."

When Timothy went to gym something felt weird. Normally, he would sit in there all period but for some reason he wanted to get dressed, so he did. He took all of his clothes off and before he could put anything on, "Yooo dude wassgood?" said Jake. Normally, Timothy would've been disgusted to hear his voice but for some reason, he wasn't.

"Wassup bro. Bro? Why would I say that? What's happening to me? Wh- ats up?" Timothy had completely disregarded the fact that he said bro to Jake for the first time in his life.

"Come workout with me bruh" Jake said. Timothy had never worked out in his life but that didn't stop him from going. Timothy got in the weight room and suddenly all the lights went out and there were spinning spirals all around him, followed by the same hissing noise. He feinted.

When Timothy woke up, he was surrounded by all the jocks he once hated. "You're name is Tommy" said Jake, followed by a snap. Tommy didn't know why the fuck Jake would try to tell him something he already fucking knew.

Tommy didn't remember anything after that...

"You're iq is lower than anyone else's. You're straight as fuck bro. You love football, wrestling, and baseball, cause you play them all dude. Your dick is so long bro. You fucking hate school. We know what's best for you. You love to get sweaty as hell like real men. Your pecs are so fucking big. We're your bros. You got the tightest bubble butt ever dude. You only wear compressions clothing bro." Said all the jocks and followed by multiple snaps, that was it.

"Yo bro, what happened?" Tommy asked. "Nothing bruh, don't worry about it." Jake said. "Wow, you really need a haircut dude." Suddenly, Tommy wanted, no, Tommy needed to get a haircut, so he did.

From that day forward, everything about Tommy would change. The walls in his room went from being filled with posters of superhero's and books and science and math to posters of football, baseball, wrestling, and nude women. His interest shifted from school and chess to working out, getting sweaty, hanging out with his bros, and doing what coach said.

Tommy would never be the same.

[amiizuki]

it will be forever funny to me how the flashback portraits of Wittebrothers made Caleb seem like he's had packing peanuts for a brain

(this post ended up becoming quite lengthy, and so did the tags somehow, because I kinda devolved into a rant closer to the end of writing this whole thing, so bear with me here)

so we know that Philip and Caleb became orphans when both of them were still kids. after that, they ended up in Gravesfield and, to fit in with everyone else who lived there, picked up witch hunting and started thinking that witches are pure evil. Caleb knew perfectly well that he's the only family Philip's had left and that he even may be his his only friend, since, judging by the portraits, they've only ever hung out with each other and we don't know if those two ever made any other actual friends.

until one day, during a witch hunt he and Philip were both a part in (something Caleb seemed happy to do, judging by his smirk there), he met a witch – Evelyn – someone he's been taught to hate and want dead by the townsfolk. someone who, again, in his mind, should be evil.

but he just suddenly does a 180 and goes "damn, you can make fire with your hands, you're actually pretty cool"

and then a few days (?) of talking to her later, he's running off to live with her in the Demon Realm, while simultaneously not giving a single fuck about the brother he's abandoning.

(he even runs off with a smile, with a literal :D face, I fucking can't lmao)

Philip ends up seeing Caleb get dragged off through a weird portal and later follows along, thinking something like "no, my brother wouldn't just up and abandon me without saying anything. he probably got captured by that witch we saw together that one time! she probably used some demon magic to bewitch Caleb and took him through that portal to kill him or worse! I gotta go save him!". and, after spending god knows how long in that realm, searching endlessly for his missing older brother, he eventually finds him. but he also finds that Caleb is not only perfectly okay and not hurt in the slightest, he's also peacefully walking together with the same witch who "captured" him, even holding hands with her.

and when enraged Philip tries to attack Evelyn, to protect Caleb from the witch who took him from his home, from his brother, still thinking that Caleb's under her control, Caleb just... gives him a hug and goes on to introduce the witch as his new wife to him (I'm assuming that portrait is the same day as the other three, if not the same scene), also adding on top of that that they're having a child. all as if nothing happened. treating the whole thing like everything's perfectly okay and just another normal day, fully ignoring the fact that he threw his brother away with no care or thought, leaving him completely alone, a full orphan, now with zero actual family left (in TTT, during their backstory, it's said that "Caleb did his best to take care of his younger brother", meaning that either they never got adopted in Gravesfield, or whoever adopted them didn't give a shit about the two, so they still mostly had to fend for themselves), all to go smash some random 5 out of 10 witchussy he talked to, like, 3 times. no fucking wonder Philip killed him!

(btw, jokes aside, it didn't seem like he intended to kill Caleb, because in that portrait where he's ready to kill with a knife in his hand, he's facing forward, while Caleb is actually to his left. so it just looks to me like Philip was gonna try to kill Evelyn again, and Caleb either jumped in front of her to protect her and got accidentally stabbed or he attacked Philip back, to, again, protect Evelyn, and Philip ended up winning that fight. but that's just my theory)

my brother in literal christ and literal titan – why in the FUCK are you just hugging it out with a smile on your face??? you ran off while giving absolutely no warning to anyone, especially your younger brother! why do you think he's here and actively trying to attack you and your new wife? you're not even trying to address the fact that you left him! at least when Luz ran off to a different realm without warning, she had a "I'm still at the camp" cover, so Camila wouldn't worry that much about where her daughter is, and even then she still felt bad for leaving her mother and planned to go back home once summer was over. this chucklefuck, on the other hand, just permanently portaled away to the Boiling Isles, knocked up a witch and fully settled down there, walking around with a big ol' smile and no care in the world. "Philip who? never heard of him"

the only thing that would sorta make this situation seem better (as in, not make Caleb seem like an overly naive ignorant brick), in my opinion, is if they added one more portrait – after the one where he meets the witch, but before the one where he leaves. in that portrait, Caleb would look like he's trying his best to convince Philip that witches aren't actually evil, and perhaps even try to get him to go live with them in the Demon Realm, all the while Philip's looking at him with either disagreement/disappointment/disgust or just rolling his eyes and full on ignoring him, while sharpening his witch hunt tools or something. then it would look like Caleb at least tried to make his brother change his mind, like he tried to offer him a chance to go with them. but no. with the way the portraits look in the final version it just seems like Caleb was fully on-board with killing witches since he was young, even pulling his younger brother along to think the same way, Philip also thought that Caleb was perfectly fine with killing witches, but once he actually meets a real witch (assuming they've never met one before) he instantly pulls an uno reverse card and just runs off with her, without so much as telling his brother beforehand.

I'm not trying to say that "Belos should've been redeemed, because he's the victim here and Caleb is bad and it's all his fault". he still murdered his brother and went on to manipulate everyone on Boiling Isles for centuries, with his end goal being the death of all witches, while simultaneously being stuck in the loop of "denial" and "bargaining" stages of grief – repeatedly trying and failing to recreate a perfect copy of Caleb, but also killing each one that came out wrong or went against him. Belos not being redeemed in the end was the right choice (ignoring the "Belos was always le bad" from King's dad), I agree with that. frankly, if he actually got redeemed in the end, I'd probably be seething for the next 3 to 5 years, like how I did after the Diamonds' "redemptions" in SU (yes I'm still pissed about that lol). I'm just saying that, from what was shown to us, Caleb didn't seem like that good of a person either, not as bad as Belos ended up being, but still not that great. and, once again, seemingly had a raisin for a brain.

(off topic, but during Masha's retelling of Wittebane's backstory, their "sounds like big bro got a hot witch girlfriend and little bro got upset" line was so fucking cringe, it gave me a fever for 3 days the first time I watched the episode)

k, rant over, I dunno what else to add

TL;DR: I think Caleb was dumb as a brick, because, from what was shown to us in their backstory, he seemed to have run off to Demon Realm and abandon Philip without telling him anything beforehand. when Philip came to BI to look for his brother, who he assumed was under control of the witch who "took" him, since he thought his last living family member wouldn't just abandon him, and when he eventually found him, and it turned out he wasn't in any danger at all, Caleb just brushed the whole "I left you for witchussy" thing under the rug and pretended everything was and is perfectly fine, even though it clearly isn't. rip bozo

[getou2001]

c. redfield .. come on baby

You and Chris had been sent out together right after your messy breakup. 'Too into work' your ex would repeat. You're about to be really into some work.

Chris Redfield ;;

fuck away the pain — divide the day

You and Chris had been sent out together right after your messy breakup. 'Too into work' your ex would repeat. You're about to be really into some work.

You were no stranger to being alone with Chris, or frankly any other S.T.A.R.S man on missions. Though this time you were as distracted as ever. Right before you left home for Romania your long time boyfriend had pulled you aside and dropped the news on you.

"You're too into your work. This just.. this isn't working between us. I'm moving out while you're gone. Next month's rent has already been sent. Good luck."

As you stood in the forest covered in mud you were still thinking about it all. What had really prompted this? Work? But you were an important member. You had to be this 'into' work. Was there a real, underlying reason? The redhead across the street? Were you becoming boring? Did you leave the dishes out a night too long after you had come crashing onto the couch? Did you smell? Was it your new haircut? A million piling reasons popped into your head before you were nudged nearly falling over.

"Hey, come on. You've been standing there too long. See something weird?" Chris had come behind you to nudge you along. "We're almost there, don't get distracted now."

You nodded and kept on towards the torchlit village in the distance. You took another look back at Chris and saw the dedication you tried to mirror in your own work. Was he the reason you were such a hardass too? Did your boyfriend— ex—think you were in love with Chris? Or another man on your team? No. That couldn't have been. You turned forward again and jumped back at the sound of a wild dog running past you two. Thankfully not infected, or not yet.

"Chill out, (L/N) , you're freaking out. What has you so startled?" Chris didn't sound concerned, you knew this tone was code for 'cut it out and focus' so you buckled down.

"Nothing." You shot back, pushing back a bush and stepping into the opening. There was no one there at all. Where the fuck did they all go? A howl or two sounded in the distance but besides that it was your breathing and Chris' footsteps inching closer. "There's no one here."

"Clearly." He stepped up beside you and took another look around and then down at his watch, still timed for home, and then at you. "Well. I'm going to sleep before we get jumped this far past a nap."

In the moonlight his muscles glistened, shiny with sweat he got from the long trek here. His eyes also shined for the moment yours met. Kind of dreamy for a second. You snapped out of the trance and nodded, following suit silently.

When you two had finally found a place to settle that was left empty Chris didn't waste a second before checking every crevice. You opted to immediately slipping into a creaking bed. The only one, you realize when Chris stands beside you as soon as he's done with his rounds.

"Clear. Scoot over." He checked his gun's mechanics one more time before putting the safety on and lying it on the dresser nearby. "I am not sleeping on the floor."

You grumbled and moved closer to the wall and held out your own handgun. Chris repeated his checks and put the safety on before slipping in beside you. He took most of the bed up but at least he had the decency to hang halfway off the bed so it wasn't terrible.

After a few minutes you turned back over to watch Chris and noticed him staring at your weapons. "What?"

"Debating if I should take the mags out."

"Hm. Thinking I'm going to shoot you? I can put the mags back in, Chris." You snickered.

You didn't see it but you could hear him gasp a bit, turning towards you. "Was that a laugh, (L/N) ? Was it?" Slight amusement in his voice as well as a creeping smile.

You went into defenses, shaking your head and lightly shoving him which caused him to titter on falling onto the ground. "No! I didn't laugh. I was sighing! Sighing, disappointed at your stupidity. Why would I laugh on an important mission?"

You both sat there for a second smiling stupidly at each other before Chris shook his head and propped his head up with his arm, sitting up slightly. "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before. Always so serious." He teased.

"Me? Serious? Look who's talking! Mister Alpha has some nerve to talk to me about being so serious." You followed his actions, propping yourself up on one arm. "I bet your girlfriend is ready to breakup with you too." You snickered.

"Too? You've finally gotten dumped? Lemme guess.." He tapped his chin. "You're too into work. You have no free time for me. You are always in the office." Chris bellowed a laugh. "Yeah, yeah. That shit hasn't happened for a while, but I remember it good."

You blushed a little hearing him in such a mood. "Yep!" With Chris now it didn't hurt to talk about it. It felt comforting, even. Unconsciously moving closer, you could smell Chris better from here. Deep musky tones, for sure. Or is that just the air? Either way it was mesmerizing. "Just like that.."

"Just like that." He repeated, scooting closer to you. His free hand moved, hovering around your hip before it pulled back and laid on the tiny area between you two. He looked around, whistling for a second before you spoke up.

"Oh, fuck it." Was the only warning you gave him before pulling him against your lips and tugging him onto the bed by his belt loops.

Chris pulled away from the kiss for a second to hiss an "Ah shit—" before diving back in for more.

You crawled up onto his lap without breaking the kiss. Moans being exchanged every few breaths, panting from both of you. His dick made a rock hard place to grind against. And grind you did. Pushing your hips against him while you struggled to stay on top. His rough hands grabbed your uniform pants and began tugging every direction to find which was going to bring them off. You broke the kiss to give him a hand, pulling them down and getting off just to struggle off Chris'.

A second later he got too impatient to get them entirely off so when they reached below his dick he yanked you back onto him. His face was calm as ever but his shaking hands showed restraint.

"C'mon.. c'mon.." He whimpered, puppy dog eyes beaming at you. How did Chris become the boy next door? He shoved his boxers haphazardly down and you moved your panties to the side. Chris put your hands on his shoulders and you took it as a warning. You gripped his black polo as tight as you could and he thrusted up into you. It was so perfect. Not entirely long but it was thick as ever. Perfect for you.

He groaned as soon as he felt inside of you, more of those cute whimpers escaping him. He wasted no time thrusting into you like a sex toy.

"Chris.. chris.." You whispered into his ear. You could feel the heat radiating off his cheeks even if the night didn't show it entirely. His thrusts became desperate very quickly. You sat up on his lap and almost tore the shirt as his dick hit the sweetest spot in you. Your sudden tightness set off alarms in him.

He grabbed your hips and flipped your positions. For a second he stopped, trying to remember where to abuse. "Right.. right here, yeah?" He slowly pushed against it. Your fist pounding on his chest confirmed it and he started the relentless thrusts. Each time they hit that spot. Your hand started dipping down to your forgotten clit but Chris pushed your hand aside.

"Ah.. allow me." Such a gentleman. His thumb rubbed the swollen bud so gently before he turned his hand and began to palm it. A small groan came from him and he changed positions once more so he could sit up and have you face outwards. A better position to focus on both parts. His mouth mindlessly kissed and nipped along your shoulders, thrusts getting shakier.

"Please.. please more.." He whispered against your ear, you could hear how needy he was for you. "More, more.. Ah.. Right there.." His voice melted into moans as he felt you tighten up once again.

"I'm gonna.." You whimpered, you could feel Chris nod behind you.

"Please do.. Please?" Chris whined, using his knees to spread your legs further apart. He continued palming and thrusting up into you. As soon as your pussy started to stammer and release he did as well. "So.. so good." He whimpered, placing more kisses along your shoulders as you both bottomed out. "So nice and warm.." The sleepiness was creeping into his voice.

You turned around and kissed his forehead. At least on his lap you could reach it. "That felt.. so good." You breathlessly laughed, settling down on his lap.

"Nice and warm.." he lazily repeated, drunk off your pussy. Laying back on the bed he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. You snickered, feeling his dick deep inside again and decided to just stay there. Your legs wrapped around his and the two of you fell asleep. Chris' nice chest and arms as your pillows. Chris' nose breathing deep in your hair before nuzzling it and falling into his own slumber.

[kaminocasey]

We Were Golden Part 5

Summary: You get to Cut and Suu's. Tension between you and Hunter starts to rise.

Pairing: Ex!Crosshair x Reader / (Eventual?) Hunter x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Smut in a dream (oral f receiving), angst

WC: 4.2K

A/N: Wow, it's been a hot minute since I've updated and I'm so sorry. That season 3 trailer really put my ass in gear, huh? Lol.

We Were Golden Masterlist │ TAGLIST FORM

(pictures from Pinterest)

“Fuck, you’re so pretty…” Crosshair groans softly in your ear as he teases your clit with his slender fingers, with you pushed up against the fresher sink.

Letting out a soft whimper, you catch his lips in a passionate kiss, needing more of him. 

You and Crosshair have been together for three months and within those three months, there hadn’t been a day that the two of you hadn’t found yourselves like this in the fresher, locked away, enjoying each other. In the midst of war and battles, all you could do was cling to these little moments. 

He drops to his knees, latching his perfect lips to your cunt, determined to make you cum harder than the night before and the night before that and so on. 

“Cross-” You gasp, gripping his silver hair tightly, desperately.

“That’s it, Princess.” He praises you, slipping a long, slender finger into you. “Want you to cum on my face just like this.” 

You wake up with tears in your eyes, sitting up to wipe them with your sleeve. When you look up, you find Hunter sitting in his bunk across from yours, watching you. The look on his face is of concern but he’s clearly trying to give you space. 

“You… okay?” He asks you, but you shrug with a sniffle. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head. “Not really.” 

What was there to say? 

You left Crosshair back on Kamino… you’re a terrible partner… how could you live with yourself? He would’ve never done that to you. Right?

“It’s not your fault, you know.” Hunter murmurs across to you, softly. 

He’s always been able to read your mind and usually, it’s endearing. But right now, you’re still slightly resentful of him, even though you really don’t want to be.

“No, I suppose not…” You stare at him.

But he reads your mind again. Your eyes still say It’s yours. Even though you don’t really believe that. 

“I know…” He nods. “I’m sorry…” 

“I know you are.” You sigh. “It’s just… hard.” 

He puts his feet down on the ground and leans forward to you, his forearms resting on his thighs.

“We’re going to get him back, okay? I just had to get the kid out of there.” Hunter murmurs, glancing down the hall at Omega, who’s asleep against Gonky. 

“I get it…” You sit up, your legs resting against his as you lean on your forearms as well. “I really do…”

The two of you are closer now, looking at each other. It’s almost comforting, after sleeping in the empty bunk, missing Crosshair’s presence. But then, you’re hit with the memory that he shot at his own brothers… tried to stop you from getting to safety. This new him… what if it’s permanent?

“I just…” You look down at your hands, clasping them together. “I miss him… and it’s weird… because that person we left behind… was not Crosshair. And I keep thinking… what if we can’t get him back to normal?” 

“We’ll figure it out if it comes to that.” He pats your hand and you place your other hand over his, nodding. “I think Crosshair was sort of right… Maybe I’ve been making bad calls-”

“Stop.” You squeeze his hand, catching his eye so that he looks at you. “You’re doing what you think is best for this squad. I told you a long time ago that I would follow you to the ends of the galaxy, Hunter. You’re a good leader. A great one. And there’s no one else I’d rather follow.”

You don’t miss the way he glances at your lips, but you choose to ignore it. 

“Would you really follow me to the ends of the galaxy?” He smiles, softly.

You roll your eyes, smirking, bumping your knee against his. “You know I would.” 

You hear Echo clearing his throat in the doorway and as you look up at him, you and Hunter separate as if you’ve been caught in some compromising position. 

“What is it?” Hunter asks, standing up. 

“Should I move the kid?” He looks down at Omega behind him. 

“I’ve got her.” Hunter steps over Wrecker’s leg and scoops her up, carrying her to his bunk and laying her down gently.

You ignore the tug in your chest at the gentle action and lean against the wall, crossing your arms.

Hunter steps back into the doorway, looking down at her, chuckling. “It’s a first, isn’t it?” 

“Inspecting every corner of the ship finally tired her out.” Echo smirks. 

“Yeah, she’s curious. I’ll give her that.” Hunter glances at you again.

“Hunter, she’s a child. What are we going to do with her?” Echo whispers with a sigh.

You’d all been through a lot over the last 24 hours, but you can’t help the attachment you’ve already formed with Omega. She deserves better than what she was given on Kamino. You could all give her that… But also, you know that this life that you and the Batch have is incredibly dangerous for a child. Obviously, she needs someone and she’s very clearly already attached to you guys as well. Especially Hunter. 

Hunter looks to you as if you could have all the answers but you just give him an encouraging smile, knowing he’ll make the right decision.

“We are coming up on Saleucami.” Tech announces.

Hunter joins Tech up in the cockpit, leaving you and Echo in the bunk room doorway. Echo gives you a strange look and you raise your eyebrows.

“What?” You ask.

He shrugs, glancing at Hunter, knowing Hunter can hear. You’re sure he’ll bring it up later when you land. 

“You wanna wake her up or you want me to?” Echo asks. 

“I’ve got her.” You start toward Omega but she’s already sitting up, rubbing her eyes.

“Are we there already?” She asks and you can’t help but smile.

“Yeah we are.” You reply.

She immediately bounces up, ready at the hatch, but Hunter pulls her back.

“Whenever we land, I go first, so I can make sure it’s safe, alright?” He asks her, softly.

She nods up at him, her eyes already filled with wonder, as Tech lands the Marauder. Hunter still hasn’t told you who’s on Saleucami that they know, so you’re a little anxious, even though you trust him fully. 

Hunter hits the hatch button and it comes down, the steps ascending with it. He walks down the hatch first with Echo behind him, and then Tech, Wrecker, and you. Omega is the last to exit the ship and when you turn around to tell her to follow close with you, you find her shielding her eyes from the sunlight, clearly having never been used to such light before on Kamino. When she gets used to the light, you watch the wonder fill her eyes once again and your chest tightens.

“Huh? What’s with her?” Wrecker asks, confused.

All of the guys turn to look and watch Omega inhale the fresh air and then step on dirt for the very first time. You just can’t help but smile as she kneels down to the ground to sift it through her fingers. 

“Woah.” Omega looks at it falling from her hand, with wonder. “What is this?”

“That would be dirt.” Tech speaks up and you grin. 

You’ve wondered a few times what it would be like to have kids. Though, you were never fully sure if you wanted them. But looking at Omega experiencing things for the first time, brings you to a realization that maybe one day… it wouldn’t be so bad. 

You and Crosshair had talked about your futures many times, but never about children. Would he ever want them? 

What about Hunter? 

Wow. Where did that come from? You shake your head slightly, trying to clear your head as you look around you. 

Omega lets out a soft gasp. “It’s amazing.”

When she stands up, she giggles and kicks it around a little bit, sending it up into the air around her. You and Hunter smile at each other before looking back down at her as she joins the group. 

You notice Hunter quickly glance up at the sky when some thunder rumbles. 

“Come on. Let’s get moving.” He nods toward some fields. 

As you start walking through the fields, you keep a safe eye on Omega as she finds wonder in every stalk and plant and insect. Her curiosity is a breath of fresh air, honestly. 

When you glance forward, you find Hunter’s eyes on you and you go warm in the face and look up at the sky. Things were so easy a couple days ago. Now everything is so turned around and different. You’re supposed to be able to handle the biggest changes. To adapt. To survive. 

You hear Echo call your name and tell you to watch out. But due to your mind being elsewhere, you don’t comprehend what he’s saying in time and step into an unfortunately deep mud puddle.

“Karking hell…” You groan as you find yourself waist deep in the puddle, which just turns out to actually be a hole in the ground.

Echo and Wrecker immediately burst into laughter. You start to throw an obscene gesture at them but then remember the kid and just settle for a glare instead. With a grumble, you reach for your pack and toss it to Hunter who sets it to the side and starts to reach for your hand. You ignore it and instead crawl your way out. Wrecker ignores your protests and helps you to stand. 

Tech scans you with his data pad. “Nothing seems to be hurt or bruised.”

“Just her ego.” Echo teases.

That time you do throw up your finger, walking ahead of the group, despite not being entirely sure where you’re going. You can practically feel Hunter’s gaze on you now. 

“Anyway, this friend of yours, what’s he doing all the way out here?” Echo asks.

“Hiding. That’s what deserters do.” Tech informs him.

A deserter? 

“Staying off the radar’s not our specialty, but he’s been doing it for years.” Hunter speaks up.

“And you trust a deserter?” Echo seems unsure.

He’s always been a loyal soldier to the Republic. Of course he’d be wary of a deserter. But before you can point out that you’re all technically deserters now, Tech speaks up.

“Why not? We’re all deserters now.” Tech says what’s on your mind and you nod in agreement. 

Hunter speeds up a little bit in front of you, putting up his fist for you all to stop, just as you’re about to point out the trip wire. He even stops Omega as she was about to keep walking. 

“What are we looking at?” Omega looks up at him.

“A booby trap.” Hunter informs her, but Wrecker steps over it.

“Single trip wire.” He chuckles. “That’s cute.”

Just as he says that, he triggers a second trap sending a circle of battle droids pointing guns at Wrecker flying up around him. You quickly pull Omega behind you, like it’s already a reflex to protect her.

“WOAH!” Wrecker lets out a yell and quickly pulls his blaster off his back and shoots down the droids. 

“Easy, Wrecker!” Hunter shouts, trying to get the giant to settle down just as you realize the droids aren’t active.

Thank the Maker. 

“W-was that me?” He asks, confused.

Before anyone can say anything else, you all hear a female voice and then turn to look toward it. 

“What do we have here? More clones who have lost their way.” A pink Twi’lek woman and a man with her are pointing a rifle at your group. 

“It’s been a while fellas.” The man puts his gun down.

You quickly realize the man is a clone and you look to Hunter for some sort of an explanation. How do they know these two people?

“You look like you could use a shower.” The woman smiles at you, eyeing the dried mud.

“Yeah, you got a hole in your field out that way.” You tell them, back behind you.

“Sorry about that, I’ve been meaning to fill it in.” The man tells you as you start walking toward their house. 

When they let you inside, the guys all gather around the table and Hunter starts to introduce you while Omega starts to check everything out. You don’t blame her one bit. This small house has to be intriguing to someone who’s spent their entire life in a Kaminoan facility. This place, which is full of life and warmth, is basically the complete opposite of Kamino. 

“I see a few new faces.” The woman says after getting everyone a drink.

Hunter introduces you, Echo, and Omega and then the two hosts as Cut and Suu. Omega waves up at Suu, politely, and Suu waves back. 

“Pleased to meet you.” She tells you all.

“Ma’am.” Echo nods, politely, and you can’t help but smile. 

When you met Echo back in the 501st, he was quite smooth with the ladies. Since his incident, he’s been more refined and not as outgoing. It was also really hard on him when he learned about his twin, Fives, who was basically joined at his hip. They did everything together. And that included going out and finding women together. They were something, that’s for sure.

Cut looks up suddenly. “Where’s Crosshair?”

The guys all look at you and you get a soft pang in your chest. You and Hunter make eye contact for the first time since before you fell in that mud hole and he sighs. 

“It’s complicated.” Hunter tells Cut, pulling his gaze away from you. 

“Sounds familiar.” Cut smiles, obviously noticing the look between you and Hunter. “Rex told us about the clone troopers turning against the Jedi.” 

Rex?

“You talked to Rex? When?” Echo asks, more eagerly.

Your brain goes back to the 501st. You could never imagine them killing Anakin Skywalker nor his former padawan Ahsoka Tano. Last you’d heard some of the 501st branched off to help her and a group of Mandalorians. You know that yours and Echo’s brains must be on the same wavelength because you both share a look of concern. 

Rex would never hurt either of them. Right?

“Well, he passed through yesterday.” Cut tells Echo.

“Where’d he go?” Echo asks.

“Didn’t ask.” Cut shrugs. “He was going on about some behavioral implant.”

Omega joins the table, next to Hunter. “He must mean the inhibitor chip.”

“The what?” Hunter asks her.

“Inhibitor chips. The Kaminoans implanted them in the clones to modify their behavior.” She tells him. 

You look at all of the guys, confused. Inhibitor chips. So that means if that’s what’s making Crosshair act this way, it can be removed… right?

“Tech, you said the regs were programmed but you never mentioned a chip.” Hunter looks over at Tech.

“How else did you think it worked?” Tech looks up from his data pad.

Suddenly, the front door bursts open and two small children come running in. 

“Mom! Dad!” They yell. “There’s a ship outside!” 

“Shaeeah, Jek!” Wrecker yells, excitedly. “Remember me?”

They both yell “Uncle Wrecker!” as Wrecker scoops them up in a hug. It warms your heart how good Wrecker is with kids. You suppose it’s probably got something to do with the fact that he can be like a big kid himself sometimes. But the fact that they’re calling him “uncle Wrecker” means that they all know these people well. 

The girl, Shaeeah, turns toward Omega. “Who are you?”

Omega suddenly gets shy, peering out from behind Hunter’s chair. 

“Omega.” She tells them. 

“We never see kids around here.” Shaeeah informs her, grabbing her hand. “Come with us.”

The kids start ushering Omega toward the door and Omega looks back at Hunter, as if for reassurance that it’s alright. Hunter gives her the softest smile and a nod to let her know that it’s okay. With that, they drag Omega out to go play and Suu turns toward you.

“I suppose you would like that shower now.” She smiles.

“That would be great.” You smile, gratefully, taking your pack with you.

She grabs you an extra pair of clothes that she said she’d had lying around for a long time and didn’t need anymore and you thank her again as she shows you to the fresher. 

You shred your muddy clothing and hop in the shower, immediately appreciating the warm water. You let it run over your body for a moment before starting to scrub. 

Once the grime is off of you and your hair is clean, you feel instantly better. You get out of the shower, wrapping the towel around you. You put your shampoo and body wash back into your pack kit and pull out your brush, wiping the fog on the mirror down with the towel and then hanging it over the bar on the wall. 

You turn around and look in the mirror, seeing yourself for the first time since throwing up in the fresher back in the barracks on Kamino. You feel like you look different. Maybe it's because you aren’t necessarily who you were the other day anymore. So much has happened in such a small time frame, that would surely change anyone. 

You put the clothes that Suu gave you on, and notice it feels a bit snug. She’s obviously a bit smaller than you. Whatever. If you get uncomfortable, you’ll just borrow from one of the guys. 

As you walk out of the fresher, you see Hunter and Cut by the door. Hunter is in civilian clothing that Cut must have given him. You both just stand there and stare at each other because wow, he looks good with his arms showing. It’s not a sight that many get to see all that often due to the black bodysuits that GAR keep the clones in underneath their armor, and also because of said armor. 

Hunter’s eyes sweep down your body, taking in your form and he has to physically tear his eyes away from you by looking at Cut, who’s of course giving him a knowing look.

“We’re uh… heading into town. To book Cut, Suu, and the kids a shuttle offworld.” He tells you.

You nod. “Alright. Be safe.” 

He smiles, softly. “We will.” 

When they leave, you notice Suu’s eyes on you.

“Uh hi.” You clear your throat, sticking your pack with the rest of the Batch’s. 

“Are you two-?” She smirks as she takes your clothes and throws them in a washer tub.

“Ha. No, absolutely not.” You wave her off and go sit on the couch. 

She joins you on the couch, resting her arm on the back of it, grinning at you. “But you want to.” 

You shake your head, glancing over at the guys who aren’t even paying attention to you. Echo’s keeping an eye on Omega in the doorway. Tech’s nose is buried in his data pad and Wrecker is passed out in the recliner, mouth gaping open and snoring. 

“No. It’s not like that.” You shake your head. “I’m with or… was with… Crosshair.” 

“Oh…” She murmurs. “I apologize. I just saw the way that you two…”

You shrug your shoulders. “Hunter’s my best friend. We look out for each other.” 

“And what happened to Crosshair?” She asks.

That pang in your chest is starting to become familiar and you really don’t care much for it. You realize though that she’s probably asking because she knows him and is genuinely curious. 

“He chose this new… “Empire”. Or I suppose the inhibitor chip did…” You murmur, looking at the rug on the floor. 

“And you still love him.”

“Of course.” 

There’s no question. He may have broken up with you, but you’re still always going to love him. 

“But you have feelings for Hunter.”

It’s not a question that she’s asking. She’s telling you she sees right through your shit. But she’s not being rude about it. You don’t know what to say because what you and Hunter have is something too complicated, yet also easy. 

Complicated for others, easy to the two of you.

You’re sitting in the barracks by the window, watching the ocean rage on angrily, your knees drawn up and your chin resting on them. As always, you’ve never once seen a calm Kaminoan Sea.

You hear the doors slide open and shut and you assume it’s Crosshair come to apologize about your fight you had. Which have been becoming more frequent. And desperate to follow Hunter’s rules about it not affecting the group, you went out for some alone time on the Marauder and Crosshair got offended. 

Which is not only stupid, but also hypocritical because the man loves his alone time, which you’d pointed out and it only escalated things, making him storm out of the Marauder. 

“Hey.” Hunter’s voice is suddenly next to you as he sits in the window with you, but leaning his back on the window.

“Hey.” You look at him.

“Crosshair mentioned you’d had an… argument?” He raises an eyebrow.

You shrug.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offers.

“What, are you trying to be my therapist?” You quip. 

He chuckles. “Just a friend.”

And that’s what Hunter became. Your best friend. 

After a while, Hunter and Cut finally return and Echo nods for Hunter to follow him outside. Which seems strange to you. Normally Echo isn’t usually shy about saying what’s on his mind in front of people. 

Unfortunately, your curiosity quickly gets the best of you and you decide to follow them once you think they’re far enough away. You watch as they head into the barn and quietly make your way that way so you can at least hear what they’re talking about. Being out of the know doesn’t sit well with you, that’s how you justify it being alright that you’re about to eavesdrop.

“I heard her talking to Suu… even Suu could practically see right through the two of you.” Echo tells Hunter as you lean up against the hale bay by the barn doors.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look… I’m not saying don’t pursue her… But… give her time to get over Crosshair. We can’t afford any fuck ups right now. If you’re both not focusing-”

Hunter sighs and you can already tell he’s rubbing his hands down his face in exasperation. “I am giving her time, Echo. I’m giving her space. Hell, I’d even give her the entire galaxy if she asked for it. Since when are you so nosy?”

Your chest tightens at Hunter’s serious tone when he says that last part. 

“Since I heard the hurt in her voice, and saw it in her eyes when they brought up Crosshair.” 

Hunter’s apparently not the only one who can read you like a book. But Echo’s right. You need time. It’s not like you can just move on from Crosshair in a day. You spent every single day together for a year.  

“You think I didn’t?” Hunter snips.

Deciding you can’t handle anymore talk about Crosshair, you start to head back to the house but end up tripping over a smaller hale bay, cursing automatically as you fall to the ground. You try to yank yourself up quickly, but are met with two confused clones, staring down at you.

“Uh, hey. Looking for Omega.” You cough. 

Echo snorts and holds out his hand to help you up. “Right.”

You take his hand and Hunter rights you, holding a hand on your shoulder.

“You two should talk.” Echo lets go of your hand and shoots Hunter a look and walks off.

Hunter guides you down to the hay bale, sitting on it next to you, watching Omega as she plays with Shaeeah and Jek. You sit like that in comfortable silence for a little bit. And for a moment, it feels normal again.

“Echo’s right. We should talk.” Hunter murmurs.

“I hate when he’s right.” You sigh. 

He lets out a chuckle and then looks at you. His eyes briefly fall to your lips before settling on your eyes. 

After a moment, he gets back up and starts to pace a little bit. It’s clear that he’s anxious about whatever conversation has to be had between the two of you. He finally stops to look down at you and then looks at the barn and goes into it, knowing you’ll follow him. Because that’s what you and Hunter do, apparently. 

You could ask for the galaxy and he would give it to you, and you would follow him to the ends of it. 

What does that mean?

He turns to look at you, leaning forward on the table. You stand across from him, crossing your arms. 

“Just talk to me, Hunter.” You murmur, softly. “Please…” 

He opens his mouth to speak but Tech’s voice falls over Hunter’s comm requesting both of your presences back at the house. Hunter lets out an annoyed grunt.

“On our way.” Hunter pulls the comm up and talks into it, never breaking eye contact with you.

Whatever the conversation was, it’ll have to be put on hold for now. Which, judging from the way that Hunter’s looking at you, is probably for the best.

TAGS: @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley 

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 7 (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great. 

Was. 

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home. 

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. 

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smutty smutty smut; oral sex m!receiving; unprotected p in v sex; mentions of toxic past relationships (cheating, lying, etc.) (lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 15k+

Covet Masterlist

a/n: alas, the second part of chapter 7!

as per usual, life has been busy and stressful. but, recently, i've had a couple of terribly sad things take place on top of it all. so, all of that piled up has stalled me. threw me way off balance for a bit.

my anxiety has also been ✨trippin'✨ recently, so i'm just drowning atp.

as always, ty to my sis @joshym for being a fucking amazing sister, talking through ideas w me, and proofreading for me <3 ilysfm

and ty to my wonderful friend @alwaysonthemend for being amazing and supportive + ever-encouraging. u r wonderful & ilysfm &lt;3

i hope u guys (gn) enjoy the rest of chapter 7!

-🌼🌼🌼-

Waking up the next morning was not as wonderful as it’d been the morning prior. 

You loved your sister with nearly everything in you, but being tied up in her legs was absolutely nothing compared to being curled up in Jake’s. 

Your body ached to feel his body against yours in the morning again. . .formed to yours, your legs tangled up in each other, your cheek resting on his warm, firm chest. 

Shit. You needed to feel him.

You were just about to get up to see if he was still in his room when Elsie made a telltale noise that she was awake. And when she cracked an eye open to look at you, she looked completely groggy and out of it. 

But definitely awake. Before you knew it, she was up and aware and checking her phone through blurry eyes. 

She yawned once more as she scrolled, but you knew this was only a sign that she was truly awake. A final yawn before starting her day. It was a weird thing you’d noticed with her years ago.

So, you knew that she would waste no time in wanting to start her day as soon as—

“Get dressed and let’s go get coffee,” she said, already walking to your bedroom to get her clothes on to start the day.

And within twenty minutes, you were both flitting about the apartment (bickering already), with the Jetta keys in Elsie’s hand, ready to go. 

As you loaded up in your car to start the day, you couldn’t help but notice the impending throbbing Jake had left between your legs from the night before. 

A sick reminder of the person you hadn’t had the chance to see again this morning. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You spent the day with Elsie, doing a variety of activities that you two used to do all the time. 

You got the coffee she’d wanted as soon as she’d awoken, then got your nails done, went shopping for unnecessary things, got sushi. . .

It was a fun day. 

But it dragged. On and on. 

Seeing Jake at the gig tonight was undoubtedly the thing you were looking forward to most all day long.

The dull pain between your legs from where Jake had been the night before had you getting even more excited. 

But it also served as a reminder to make your rules. 

He’d followed the other rules you’d made well enough (enough being the key term) before. It seemed a legitimate idea to pitch some again for whatever the fuck you two had now gotten yourselves into twice (and more than that if you counted the other things the two of you had done).

You just hoped he’d respond well to these. They were to benefit both of you. Keep the sex just sex.

Protection.

You were sure they’d be easy for you to follow, so you were crossing your fingers they would be for him, too. You weren’t going to ask a lot of him.

By the time Elsie was done buying whatever she definitely didn’t need from H&M, you already had a solid ten rules made up.

Ten seemed good. Even number. Good start.

And you’d made one rule for yourself personally: No funny business until the rules had been discussed. 

You needed the rules in place to feel like you had some semblance of control over it all.

He’d just have to be okay with that.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The show hadn’t even ended, their little encore about to start, when you got a text from Jake, making your tummy flip at his name popping up on your screen. 

Jake, 10:30 p.m.: Josh says to meet us at that bowling alley we played a couple weeks back

Jake, 10:30 p.m.: oh fuck I forgot

Jake, 10:30 p.m.: that was when you weren’t coming to our shows for god knows what reason. It’s called brooklyn bowl

Jake, 10:31 p.m.: we will be there as soon as this set is done. Head that way and we will meet you

The string of texts kind of shocked you, if you were being completely honest. The fact that Jake had apparently been willing to text you about the plans made your stomach dip. 

And even though his little remark about you not going to their shows made your skin heat with irritation, you still felt butterflies as you quickly texted back. 

You, 10:33 p.m.: Okay. We will see you guys there. 

You nudged Elsie, showing her the texts. 

Her lips had a smart little smirk as soon as she saw who it was texting you, her eyes flashing to you to see your expression. 

You only rolled your eyes and said, “It’s not that he’s texting me, stupid. We need to leave.”

So she finished reading the texts, and nodded her head when she’d finished. 

“That’ll be fun,” she grinned bigger, winking. She nodded once again, signaling for you to move out so she could follow you out from the booth you’d been sitting in to watch the guys perform. “Let’s go.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

You waited a good while for a lane to open up, the alley being oddly busy on a Monday night. 

As you’d waited in line, Elsie had made a comment about Jake acting a little funny about you not being at their shows for a bit. 

You’d pushed her off, claiming he was just being an asshole. 

And your heart hadn’t beaten any faster when he’d sent a simple response as you waited in the line to get a lane. 

Jake, 11:05 p.m.: :) 

Jake, 11:07 p.m.: we will be there soon

You didn’t respond, not wanting to seem eager for a response or some shit. He’d know that you got his message by your ‘read’ receipt.

Eventually, you and your sister had a lane assigned to your party, and you located it. The two of you took the time to set up your names in the machine before the guys would arrive and presumably took over. You had a funny feeling they’d be pre-excited to start the game and compete. 

And you knew well enough to stay out of their way when they got excited over bowling. 

You assumed Jake would be the same. But you didn’t know as this would be your first time going out with him to bowl.

Well, going out with the guys and Jake. Not just him. 

It wasn’t like you guys were dating or some weird shit. 

Fuck no.

You weren’t. At all.

And just as that thought’d come to your mind, you figured tonight would be a really good time to talk over the rules you’d spent the day crafting.

Before he started assuming shit.

He probably didn’t. You knew better than to get too big of a head over Jake considering the thing you guys had done any more than just fucking.

You ignored the tiny sinking in your tummy over that thought. It didn’t matter. It was just fucking. 

So. Yeah. Rules would be good to have. Good reminders. You’d find a quiet time tonight to tell him about them.

They would let you have the control you needed, and keep you both in line with the situationship staying strictly sex.

-🌼🌼🌼-

You were correct in assuming the boys would come in and take over the machine; fingers flew over the touchscreen panel and ridiculous pictures were taken to accompany their player names.

Elsie only sat back and watched Josh in nothing short of amazement, laughing at every single thing he’d say or do. And he’d look back at her and send secret smiles, shooting winks and long glances when he wasn’t looking at the machine.

They were fucking adorable. 

But they could have the relationship. 

You weren’t interested in something like that. 

Though, you couldn’t help the way you watched Jake’s ass as he bent over the chair to put his name in, along with his own picture. His eyes crossed and tongue sticking out. 

You really couldn’t help the smirk and tiny giggle that bubbled out of you when he’d set it up. 

Also, his ass was looking fucking round and delicious in his jeans. 

Fuck. 

When he’d taken the initiative to get the guys’ shoes for them at the counter, you took the opportunity to do the same for your sister and you. 

This could be your chance to talk to him about rules.

Following behind him a few healthy steps, you saw him bent at the waist, arms crossed on the shoe counter as he talked to the girl working it. What was he doing? He was only up there to get fucking shoes.

Despite being annoyed, you did openly take the opportunity to admire his ass while you could. It was too tempting not to. Firm as hell, and poking out yet again from this position he was leaning into. 

You didn’t waste time, though, as you met him at the counter. There was shit to do and he was already taking too long.

You sidled up next to him, without another thought, as the girl across the counter continued to flirt openly with him.  

You rolled your eyes at her, glancing at him as he did the same back. He had a shit eating grin on his face the whole time, as if he knew she was lapping up every bit of it all. 

Stupid. You guys needed to get your shoes and get back to start the game. None of you had time for the little game he and this girl were playing. 

And she needed to focus on her job. 

“I need some shoes, too, if you don’t mind,” you butted in, pressing your arm into Jake’s. She looked annoyed, but you didn’t care. You were too. Looking down at your roommate, you narrowed your eyes at him. He was already looking at you, a raised brow and a smirk on his lips. Your panties got the slightest bit wet. Dumb. “Did you at least give her your fucking sizes?”

He rolled his eyes, but quickly changed his face to a knowing sort of thing that made you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. He uncrossed his arms from the counter, standing up to look down at you. 

“Yes,” he said, voice dripping with irritation, and a mix of something else you couldn’t put your finger to. “Would you like to give her yours, ma’am?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Jake,” you gritted in response. You looked back at her, as she continued to size Jake up. “Excuse me, I still need shoes. A woman’s size 6 and a size 8.”

And just as she begrudgingly left to get them all, you made eye contact with him again. He was already looking at you.

The apples of his cheeks were round with a big smile, pearly white teeth gleaming in the neon lighting of the place as he chuckled lowly. 

“What, Cheshire fucking Cat?” 

“You’re silly,” he said cutely. “And you’ve got a filthy fuckin’ mouth on you tonight, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Your heart leapt at him calling you that. You really liked how it sounded when he called you pet names— like sweetheart and baby. . . It sounded so, so nice falling from his pretty lips. 

Blinking back at him, you refocused. “I’m silly? What the fuck does that mean?”

“You just are. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s cute. You’re cute,” he leaned his butt against the front of the counter, and he reached out to toy with the halter top you’d worn tonight. “And you look fucking sexy tonight. Why didn’t you stand closer to the stage for me to see you while I played?”

You flushed, and felt the slightest bit sad when he let his hand fall from your shirt to tuck back into his front pocket. 

“Wanted to show Elsie another vantage point of the show,” you replied, not wanting to tell him that you weren’t sure you could’ve handled being that close to him, watching him ruthlessly fuck his guitar. It would’ve made you fall victim to him before you were able to discuss your rules with him. “But that doesn’t matter. We need to talk about something.”

He let out a breath and then responded, “Well I know what this is going to be about,” he started, his eyes locking with yours. You lifted a brow, encouraging him to continue. “You don’t think us having sex is the best idea, hm? Can’t let yourself have too much of a good thing.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms. 

You uncrossed them. 

Then, with a huff, you crossed them again. 

You were starting to realize when you did this, it made you feel guarded, emotions not on full display. Jake brought out so many different emotions in you— made you feel exposed. Crossing your arms to hide what pieces of yourself you could cover was all you could do. You just weren’t sure if it was healthy to constantly be on guard like you so often were. 

But it was just what you did. Especially with him.

“You think it’s that good?” You sassed, trying to disguise how wonderful you knew it to be, your pussy still in the slightest bit of pain from just how good he’d given it to you not even twenty-four hours ago. 

His eyes bore into yours, challenging you. “Oh, you’re saying it wasn’t?” He turned towards you. “Is that why I had to cover your mouth to keep you from getting all loud? You didn’t seem to think it was so bad when—.”

“Here are your shoes!” The girl was back, sliding all six pairs Jake’s way. You scooted yours and Elsie’s over to you, eying the girl and judging how she was holding eyes with Jake.

“These were mine,” you reminded as you held onto the backs of the shoes, clicking them against the counter.

As you went to hold them in your arms, you waited for her to look up at you. And when she threw you a disgusted glance, you didn’t let her look away, pinning her there. And as if on cue, customers were showing up behind you and Jake. 

“Better get to work,” you remarked at her, throwing a thumb back to point at the next people in line. You then tapped the other boys’ shoes to remind Jake to get them. He grabbed them just in time for you to take him by his sleeve. He chuckled under his breath as he let you drag the two of you over a few feet. 

Why was he laughing? 

You released him as soon as you were far enough away from the girl that she’d leave you alone. 

“You like her?” You questioned hotly (for literally no reason at all, really just genuine curiosity). “She definitely likes you.” 

“I don’t know,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.”

“You’re the one who asked.”

“I just think it’s a good idea for you to be careful where you’re sticking your dick,” you chided, assuming to yourself that was the reason you asked in the first place. There was no other reason to care. “I’ll make you fucking wrap that shit.”

“I always do,” he challenged, stepping towards you a bit. It made your heart thump in your chest. 

“No you don’t,” you challenged back, crinkling a brow with a shake of your head. “You’ve never—.”

“Not with you I don't. Other girls, always. It’s fucking nasty not to,” he reasoned. His voice went impossibly lower, deeper with his next words. “I’ve never given a flying fuck about truly feeling the shape of a girl’s pussy until yours. I wasn’t going to miss out on that.”

Your cheeks heated, becoming red at his words. You could not be that special.

“That’s a fucking lie,” you hushed back, leveling with him. You pushed your chest out to fake a sort of sanity you were beginning to lack. “What about your ex-girlfrie—?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, his hand coming up to gently hold your bicep. His calloused thumb smoothed over your skin, drawing mindless shapes. You shivered. “Always used protection with her, too.”

You blinked. You were at a loss for words. 

His eyes scanned your body. The outfit of black skinny jeans that showcased your ass and your striped halter top that gave you incredible cleavage. He watched the curves of your breasts as your chest heaved at him watching you.

Your eyes floated to his lips, full and pink and kissable. Fuck. You just wanted to kiss him so bad.

It seemed he wanted it, too.

His were getting nearer and nearer to yours.

And you were leaning into it. . . So close to what you were learning was a constant craving.

“Y/n!” Elsie’s voice from across the way brought you out of your momentary daze. 

You shoved Jake back. 

Dammit, you hated being cut off from him like that. 

But you were currently way too close for outside onlookers. 

Your eyes were as wide as a deer in headlights as you scanned the alley for her. You’d lost your party entirely, your mind being wrapped up in only Jake for the past fifteen minutes. 

She whistled to gain your attention. And when you finally saw her, she was still on the bench from earlier, Josh right next to her. Their thighs were touching and his arm was over the back of her chair, facing away from you. 

Thank fuck. He hadn’t seen. 

But you had the sneakiest suspicion Elsie had seen too much. The quirk of her lips said so.

You could deal with her later.

“Shoooooes!” She sang, Josh harmonizing with her momentarily as if to mock. She giggled at him, shoving his shoulder. Now looking at him as she spoke, “I’m ready to kick Josh’s ass and I need my shoes to do it!” 

You looked back over at Jake for a split second, seeing the same disappointment in his eyes that you were feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

But you just couldn’t chance all of them seeing you two like that. 

You were still looking at him when you called back with a, “Coming!”

And as you walked back to your friends, Jake followed closely behind. You could feel him staring at your ass as you swayed it in front of him. With the smallest secret grin on your lips, you pressed the back of your hand to your cheeks to tame your blush.

The throbbing between your legs was begging for him. 

You had to get these stupid (albeit necessary) rules out of the way quick so you could sneak off and let him fuck you. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

“Ah! Another fucking strike!” Sammy punched the air in triumph, elbowing Danny in the side. “Try to beat my fuckin’ score, Daniel! Betcha can’t.” 

The four of you that sat back at the booth to watch applauded Sam’s score, but urged Danny on to “kick his ass, Danny!”

“Don’t let him have the upper hand,” you shouted at Daniel, who sent a wink back at you. 

And as Danny took his first shot, you heard Jake pipe up from across the table. “Who wants something to drink? Or maybe some fuckin’ chicken tenders or something. ‘M starving.”

Everyone yelled back “me!” except for you, who watched him lazily from your side of the booth. You’d been admiring him any chance you’d gotten from your spot all evening. He was sitting next to Josh and you were next to Elsie. Perfect view of him across the booth.

“Jacob, I volunteer you to get the booze and food,” Josh decided, clapping a hand against Jake’s shoulder. “I’ll play in your spot while you’re gone. We’re basically the same person, so it counts.”

Elsie joined in with her own two cents. “And I think you should help him carry it all back, sis, so I don’t let Josh get the upper hand with too much playing.” She added, “Let me play for you, too, and I’ll stay on the same page as him. Keep things fair.”

They laughed with each other like two little obnoxious love birds. And you couldn’t even care about it as you met eyes with your roommate, a glint in his eye at the prospect of you two escaping. 

He got out, and you watched his body unfold, and then as he stretched from sitting. You averted your gaze when you heard the telling sign of a strike, and the sounds of Danny rubbing it in Sammy’s face.

“Sure,” you replied, trying to act irritated that she was making you leave. When you were actually anything but. She looked at Jake, then back at you, throwing you a wiggle of her brows as you got out. Bitch knew what she was doing. 

Jake waited for you, and you quickly joined him in walking to the bar. 

“You know how amazing your ass looks in those jeans,” he said to you in a low tone as you walked that way. “Do you always wear the sexiest shit on purpose?” 

Heart racing, you looked up at him with a tiny grin. “Maybe.”

When you approached the bar, he put in a few orders of chicken and fries and several beers. 

“Yeah, man, but it might take a bit,” the guy responded, looking over at you, giving you a decent once over. He was blatantly checking you out. You pretended you didn’t notice as you let your eyes travel back to Jake, whose eyebrows were turned in at the guy looking at you. “Probably like five to ten minutes. That okay?”

“If you can keep your eyes off of her while you do it, sure,” he said back, taking a step over, closer to you. The guy looked shocked to be called out, stuttering a bit. He nodded his head a few times at Jake in response. 

“Yeah man, sorry,” he said, voice wavering. “Just don’t always see girls so pretty,” he sent a small, worried smile your way. “Sorry, miss.”

You tossed a hand his way, showing it was no biggie.

You could tell he was harmless. But you didn’t care about him. 

Jake’s palms splayed out on the counter, and him standing tall to say what he did was all you cared about in that moment. His shoulders, broad, and dark brown eyes daring the guy to look at you again.

Sexy as hell.

Why did you like him standing up for you so damn much? 

The guy scurried away, yelling out orders in the kitchen and then tending to the next customers. 

You turned to Jake just as he did the same. All you wanted was to reach out and feel him, but you didn’t. Couldn’t. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you remarked, correcting him for no reason whatsoever. You liked it. Why were you saying anything? “I don’t need you doing that.”

Y/n, shut up, you heard the sweet voice in your head chide you. Just let him be there for you. 

“Didn’t say you did,” he snipped back, his eyebrows turning in at you now. “Just didn’t like him looking at you like that.”

Your heart beat rampantly as you held his line of sight. 

“Fine,” was all you could say in response. “But I still need to talk to you about what I had to earlier.”

“Did I not hit the nail on the head with what I said?” He questioned. “Too much of a—?”

“No, you didn’t,” you cut him off. He reared back a bit with a little ‘hm’. “Just let me speak. You can offer your opinion in a minute.”

You pulled your phone from your back pocket, opening up the notes with the rules, anxious to get your piece said.

“Rules,” you held up the device, flashing it at him before turning it back to yourself to read. 

But before you could start, he interrupted. “Rules? We already went over our rules for the apar—.”

“Not the apartment,” you corrected. 

He looked curious, his eyebrow raising in question. “Then what?”

“Sex.”

“Ha!” He let out the one cackle with a shake of his head. “Rules for sex?”

When he said it out loud, it sounded ridiculous. You couldn’t blame him for laughing when you heard the prospect from your own mouth. 

But you had valid reasons for it.

“Yes. As weird as it sounds, they will help us,” you said, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “Are you ready?”

“Do I get a say?” 

“You will once you’ve heard them all.”

He groaned, and you saw him throw a hand over his eyes. “Fuck, y/n.” 

Was he that disappointed? 

Did it matter if he was? This was important to you.

You watched his pecs and chest rise and fall through his partially opened shirt, tempting you. The quicker you got these read, the quicker you could take him to a hidden area and—.

“Well?” His voice made your eyes snap to his face. He’d smoothed his hand down his face, holding his chin as he looked as ready as he could to tolerate whatever the hell was coming from you. “I’m waiting.”

You sighed. “If you’re going to be a giant baby about them, then—.”

“I won’t,” he sighed as well, looking more and more open to hearing you out by the second. 

Okay, maybe he really would be okay with this, you thought hopefully. 

“Number one:—.”

“Just like old times,” he interrupted. You cut your eyes to him, narrowing them in his direction. “Feels like yesterday when we were standing in the living roo—.”

“Jake, shut the fuck up and let me finish,” you grumbled. “Or I’ll cut you off from me.”

Empty threat. You were not ready to do that anytime soon. 

He waved a hand in your direction, gesturing for you to continue. 

You growled under your breath, but stood straighter, not wanting him to see you flustered. “Number one: we will not make this a relationship. It is—and will stay— just sex.”

“Are you choosing that for both of us?”

“Yes.”

“Not totally fair,” he inserted. “I’m not sure how I feel about you being the one to make that decision.”

“And I’m not sure how I feel about you giving me such a hard time about it,” you bit back. Your defenses were flaring. Who gave him the right? “It’s my decision whether I want a relationship or not. I don’t want one. If you want one, find someone else. Because it’s not going to be with me.”

There were too many reasons it shouldn’t be a relationship. But you weren’t about to get into that. 

His posture had drooped the slightest bit, and his eyebrows, furrowed with a sort of hurt. But before you could consider it any further, he was crossing his arms and his features were hardening.

“Fine,” he stated. Your heart fell in your chest at the word. He continued, “I won’t make a big deal of it. I’ll take what I can get.”

Your mind was in a frenzy. Jake was the worst (or, perhaps, best) at causing you to ride emotional rollercoasters. You couldn’t keep up with him. 

And why was he fine with compromising so quickly? Whatever the reason, you weren’t going to question it.

“Okay,” was all you said. You waited a few beats, your eyes piercing the other’s. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you continued, “I think it will be good for it to be only about sex. Just trust me,” you softly encouraged, reaching out to pat his chest in reassurance. But you went to remove it quickly, remembering you shouldn’t show that sort of behavior in public. 

Instead, he held it there for a few more seconds, letting you feel his heart beating, steadily under your open palm. 

The moment was over before it started, though, and you thought it best anyway. There was a time and a place for that.

So, within record time, you told him the rest of the rules you’d made up (and he had a response for each one): 

2) Nobody will find out. (“We’ve gone over that.”)

3) No questions or comments about dates the other one may have. It’s not our business. (“Oookay?”)

4) No excessive touching outside the bedroom. (“Alright.”)

5) Try to avoid sleeping together after. Especially avoid: cuddling. Too couple-y. (“Like you said: it’s just fucking. Why would I dare try cuddling you?”)

6) No pet names outside of the bedroom. (“Can do.”)

You stopped before the last few, looking up from your phone to make sure he was actually still engaged and taking you seriously.

To your pleasant surprise, he really seemed to be. He had a pensive look on his face, hand holding his chin in thought. 

Soon, he looked back at you and replied. “Really doesn’t seem too hard,” he paused, raising his brow. “‘S that it?”

Shaking your head, you held up three fingers. You told him, “There’s three more.”

He breathed deeply in response, blowing the breath out slowly. He raised both brows, shook his head in mild agreeance (or maybe disbelief?), but once again motioned a hand at you to continue. 

“Number seven: only sex on the days we’re both off work,” you recited from your screen. This one sounded kind of insane to your own ears when you said it out loud. 

Jake confirmed this with a scoff. Your head perked up sheepishly at the sound, knowing that one was a little strange. Why had you decided that?

“Veto,” he said in annoyance. “Why is that even a rule? What purpose?” He continued, “I’ll be honest, if I look hard enough, I can find the tiniest purpose in every other rule. . . except that one.”

You nodded your head, acknowledging he was right. 

“Do I still have a say? Because I really am not sure I can follow that one.”

“Yes,” you conceded sheepishly. Then, something overtook you and you honestly confided in him. “I think that one was just me grasping for control. I struggle with it on occasion.”

He chuckled quietly to himself, almost fondly. You blushed, waiting for him to respond. 

“Just a little bit. But I’ll roll with it,” he replied, his soft gaze finding yours. You felt your tummy do flips. This. . . felt good. Being a little more open with him, and him accepting it. It felt nice—relieving, almost. “Go on. Last two.”

You cleared your throat, pulling your stare from him to look at your screen. “New number seven: No emotional dependency,” you iterated. With his crinkled brow, you clarified. “We aren’t responsible for dealing with each others’ emotions. That’s for relationships.” 

That one made you sad for some reason. It was almost as though you longed for that with him. . . But it didn’t matter. That one was particularly important to help with boundaries. 

“Alright,” he agreed, the sureness in his tone faltering a bit. Why? Did it matter to him too somehow? Ignore. Whatever. Move on.

“Number eight: no jealous behavior,” you added, scrolling onto the next one when you heard him pipe up. 

“Does that include the girl at the counter tonight?” 

You felt caught. But why? It hadn’t been jealousy. You’d just been annoyed. “That was just me being plain irritated with her lack of professionalism,” you clarified plainly. Your tone said to drop it. 

“Okay,” he smirked, sniffling with a laugh. “Got it. You’re just an extreme professional. Alright.”

You rolled your eyes. “I am. And it was just annoying for her to be like that.”

“Why?” He poked. 

You scoffed with a small huff. Motioning to the counter for emphasis, “She wasn’t doing her job.”

He continued laughing under his breath. 

“Do you want me to continue or not?”

“Yes,” he relented with a tip of his head. “Last one?” 

“Last one,” you confirmed. “Number nine: if one of us wants to end whatever the fuck this is, the other one has to be okay with it. No questions,” You expanded, “There is nothing tying us to each other, so there is no need to fight it if one of us decides to move on.”

He seemed to sit on that one for a bit, his stare boring into the floor. His thumb and index, stroking his chin, as if in deep thought.

“Order up!” The guy from before was back, sliding two trays your way. One piled with several opened beer bottles and the other, filled with steaming food in red baskets. 

Jake suddenly came to, shaking his head and finally looking up. He took the one with the alcohol. 

“This one is heavier,” he glanced over at you. He used his elbow to point at the other. “You grab that one.”

He went to move, but you put a hand on his arm to stop him from going anywhere. 

Looking down in your direction, his eyes were dark with a secret emotion. 

You really wished you could read him better. Every time you thought you could, he would throw you another curve ball of confusion.

“You had a response for everything else,” you pinned him there. “What’s your opinion on the last one?” You used your eyes to show him you were desperate for him to say something. “I want to know what you think.”

He stared at you for several moments, his eyes studying yours. You could have been completely naked and felt less vulnerable than you did at this moment.

Finally, his lips made a tight smile and he responded. “Like I said before: I’ll take what I can get,” he looked down at the beer, finally lifting it off the counter. You followed his lead with your tray, glad to get a response. But you stopped as he did, turned from the counter. He held you in place with his amber-brown eyes. “I just hope whatever the fuck this is doesn’t end anytime soon.”

All you could do was nod, feeling completely conflicted in every way at that moment. 

You had to repeat to yourself that the rules were for a reason. You had to have them to stay in line. Keep things strictly what they were. A relationship was a bad idea. What you had was all you needed. 

Right?

You felt completely torn. Because, all you wanted to say in response was, 

“I never want it to end.”

But you didn’t. You weren’t about to completely contradict yourself with that. You only nodded once more, and started walking, leading the two of you back to the group. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You never ended up finding any more time to be alone at the bowling alley. 

It was terrible, having to watch him from a distance all night. . . Wanting him more than anything. You felt fully ready to dive head first into this with him. You’d had an actual discussion about it. It felt more real now. 

Whatever the fuck you were to each other. . . It had been firmly placed today with your talk. With the rules.  

Now all you had to do was tie a nice bow on it. 

Consummate the fuckin’ rules.

So, when Elsie told you she had to go see your grandparents before she met you back at the apartment, you let her go. 

Josh had offered to drive her, leaving your car available for you and Jake.

And as you walked to the car, you had a gut feeling you wouldn’t be making it back to the apartment anytime soon.

-🌼🌼🌼-

And about fifteen minutes later confirmed that. Pulled over in an area covered by trees, just off the highway, nearing the apartment. 

But neither of you could have waited if you tried. 

He had you on his lap, your halter top undone, tits out and bouncing as he pounded up into you.

Your pants were down just far enough for you to ride his cock, where he sat in the passenger seat. 

The car had been left on, as you didn’t want it to get so steamy that you’d possibly draw attention. 

And the cool air was causing your skin to prickle, your nipples hard from the chilliness of the A/C. 

You almost brought your shirt back up to cover them when Jake stopped you momentarily, bucking his hips up into you for emphasis. You yelped at the feeling of him pressing at your spot. . . just right. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you moaned, you tried lifting your top back up when he reached a hand up to cover yours, pulling the material back down. 

“No,” he panted, his eyes connecting with yours. 

You wrinkled your brows. “Yes. I’m cold,” you corrected, the last word containing a weird lilt as the head of his dick met your cervix again. “Shit!”

“I’ll keep you warm, then.”

And within seconds, he had his mouth on one hardened peak and the other breast was being massaged by his strong, calloused hand. 

You threw your head back in pleasure, sighing loudly with a whimper that quickly changed into a deep moan. Nipple stimulation—and just boob-play in general. . . It was your kryptonite. Fuck. 

He released his mouth from your breast, giving the taut skin one more swirl from his tongue. But he paused above the other breast, a smirk on his features as he met your hooded gaze. “You like it when I play with your tits?”

You were too dazed by your lust to be annoyed with his slightly cocky attitude. “Yes. It’s my fucking krypto,” you sighed, pulling your hips up, and then sinking back down onto him slowly. He groaned as you did it a few more times. Now it was your turn to smirk. “Do you like it when I do this?” You rolled your hips down, molding your wetness to his thick shaft once more with the word. 

He inhaled deeply, biting his lip. He grasped your hips to make you do it again. “Fuck yeah I do.”

Except with his action, he brought you down harder and your toes curled at the delicious friction against your hidden spot. He held your hip as you kept your body moving on him, but he switched one hand to massage your throbbing clit. 

You sucked in a breath. “Oh,” you whined. “Yeah, that’s it. Fuck,” you sighed, pushing into his finger, desperate to feel every harsh line of the callous in the thumb that toyed with you. You wrapped an arm around his neck for leverage, tangling a hand in his hair, and leaned further into the motion. 

Then, his right hand, that’d been holding your hip, left you to pull the seat lever, reclining the seat all the way back. You gasped as the chair’s movement made your thighs fall open more, gaining him even further access. The head of his dick took its rightful place at the furthest edge of your pussy. 

The sudden change had your eyes rolling back into your head. 

“I needed to feel you like I wanted,” he grunted, both hands finding your hips again. He squeezed the flesh at your hips before gently running his hands, as if admiring your curves, up to your waist. Then, further they went, up to your rib cage. You looked down at his face as you rolled your hips down onto him, causing both of you to shiver with a moan. “Fuck, y/n.”

He wasn’t looking at your face, he was watching in the darkness of the car, as your bodies moved together. You were in perfect rhythm, his hips meeting your tempo with every thrust you’d offer. 

But you wanted him to look at you. You were desperate for his gaze. 

“Jake,” you panted, driving your center against him. “Look at me.”

Jake did as he was told, instantly finding your eyes. He reached a hand up to hold your face, his gaze gentle. You loved his fucking eyes. Even in the natural blue of night that fell over you, you were still able to fall so easily into them. They were so deep, so true. . . never hiding any emotion from you. You wanted to use them as a window to explore him. 

Before you could explore your thoughts any further, his pointer and middle fingers were entering his mouth. You watched, entranced, as he sucked on them long enough to get them wet and ready. And when the fingers found your sensitive clit, you couldn’t contain the whine that escaped your lips. 

“Shit—fuck,” you gasped, mouth falling open as he played you like an instrument. He nudged at the hardened bud like he was making a beautiful melody, and you watched as his eyebrows drew in with the same concentration he gave a guitar solo. Your hips jerked against him of their own volition, needy for more. But you were nearing your end. You could feel it curling in your belly as he paid attention to the side of your pulsing clit. Then it was approaching faster—your movements were erratic, your body craving every piece of his it could get. “Jake—.”

“I know, baby,” he soothed, his own pelvis bucking furiously. “I’m close—you just feel so damn good. Shit.”

And before you knew it, the vibrations were reverberating through you after one particular shift from him. Your body shivered, every nerve in your body, absolutely electric. You felt your walls fluttering furiously around him, but as soon as you registered it happening, he was pulling out of you and finishing against your exposed stomach. 

“Dammit,” he hissed. Your eyes darted down to his dick as he removed it from you hastily, making sure to point it away from your center and directly at your tummy. 

You watched the release drip down your stomach, and into your belly button. But before you could watch much more of it, he was stretching his shirt to help clean your skin. 

Seconds later, both of you were still breathing heavily, bodies coming down from the high. He was looking at the mess of your stomach and you were watching him. His hair was sticking to his forehead, and you couldn’t help it when you went to push some of it away and behind his ear. 

His dark brown eyes found yours, a small, sweet grin fitting to his full lips. And, in that moment, you realized you felt genuinely happy for the first time in a very long time. 

After a few more of the shuddering breaths, 

your heart leaping in your chest at the twinkle in his eyes, you jumped at the telling sound of your sister’s ringtone. 

You quickly pulled your pants back up, and re-situated yourself until you were fully put back together. Jake did the same below you, both moving your bodies to accommodate for the other. 

Once your pants were done, you reached a hand to fully grasp the ties for the halter top to tie it back together. But just before you could re-tie it around your neck, he moved your hair to the side of your throat so you’d have easier access. 

Hurriedly, you finished the job, and as you did so, Jake grabbed your phone for you from the dashboard. Your heart started beating frantically in your chest at the thought of him answering Elsie’s call and her possibly being with Josh and exposing the two of you. 

Or the good chance that Elsie would slip up and say something sly to Jake. 

“Don’t fucking answer it!” You snapped at him. 

His lips turned down, his eyes losing the sparkle, and filling with fire instead. “I wasn’t going to,” he bit back. “Just being fucking kind.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, and grabbed it from him. 

Crawling over the console back into the driver’s seat, you answered your sister. You tried your best to mask being out of breath from the hustle as you buckled your belt. 

“‘Sup, Els?” You swallowed down a fast breath. 

“Fuck, y/n. I got back to the apartment and neither of you were here,” she replied, her voice wracked with nerves. “I tried texting you and you didn’t answer. I was worried about you.” 

You blanched at that, your skin flushing. “I didn’t get a text,” you said back, your voice lilting at the end, in question. You would’ve heard it. . .had you been that lost in the moment? That you hadn’t even heard your phone chime?

When you pulled the phone away from your ear, you noticed a total of eleven texts waiting on your Home Screen from her. 

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yep,” she sassed at you. “Where are you?!”

Frantically, you tried to find a good excuse. But you couldn’t think of anything. You really didn’t care for Elsie to know, but talking about it in front of Jake would show him you’re telling her, which would completely conflict with the rules you put in place. 

Crap.

You stared out the windshield, your eyes shutting as though in resolution to having to expose yourself, right there in front of Jake. 

Why couldn’t you think of something?! 

A hand came to lightly touch your thigh, and you looked over to see Jake, a reassuring look in his stare. 

“Tell her I forgot something important for my guitar at the venue,” he whispered, so quiet, his tone understanding. 

Your face must’ve said ‘how did you know?!’ 

Because then he hushed, “Your volume is all the way fucking up. I’m sure if I were across the street I’d be able to hear it.”

You blushed, looking away from him, out into the night sky again. He removed his hand from your thigh, and you instantly missed it. 

“Jake had to go to the venue for a guitar part he forgot,” you lied, turning your volume down a few notches. “And I got lost finding my way there. It was a fucking mess.”

“Of course you lost yourself,” she responded, impatient. “Just get home. I’ve always been kind of scared to be here by myself.”

“Oh my god. You’re fine,” you responded, putting the car in gear. “We’re on our way.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

Life was at its fucking pinnacle— the best it had been for the first time in years. 

Everything that was happening felt aligned in the stars. 

The band was doing fuckin’ fantastic. Every single gig we performed at drew more and more eyes—both fans and otherwise. 

And apparently, even more than that. . . We recently found out that a few producers had been lurking (presumably looking for the right time to bite). The manager we’d picked up had also recently been contacted by a guy connected to this big festival that was happening in August. He’d made it extremely clear that he needed us to agree before he’d even finished pitching the idea. 

“You guys don’t want to miss this opportunity,” he’d excitedly shared, his voice loud and grainy through the speaker as the four of us had listened. “It is a once in a fuckin’ lifetime, boys.”

So, there was all of that. The fact that my dreams seemed to finally be coming true was an exhilarating and unbelievable experience.

It was crazy how all it had taken was one move. The move. The move I had needed to make for the past several years, but had been too afraid of. I’d felt trapped in Illinois. Stuck under someone else’s thumb, stuck with someone I’d stopped loving a long time before I left. 

Meanwhile, the woman had been cheating on me for God knows how long. If I let myself think back on all of it, I’d realize that she was never trustworthy. I’d just fallen in love too young— oblivious to the ways someone could be so horrible.

After her, I swore I would never feel about another woman so deeply. I didn’t want to. She’d ruined it for me. And I was validated even more when Josh told me I needed to take a break from women. 

But I didn’t want a break. I just wanted to be done. No more relationships. Mindless fucking with random women was exactly what I thought I wanted. 

My ex had completely destroyed any desire I could possibly have for a relationship. Fuck relationships. Fuck love. Fuck it all.

Then I met y/n. 

She’d turned it all around with one look into her breathtaking eyes. 

It caught me completely off guard. I’d tried my damndest to reject it.

And even after all of the shit I put her through (due to me acting like a giant ass, stubborn baby), she still wanted me.

But not like I wanted her.

I wanted it all. I didn’t want just mindless sex with her. Even though Josh had adamantly instructed me to “take a fucking break”, I had resolved that I couldn’t convince myself I wanted that when it came to her. Because I wanted her. Bad. In every way. 

There was just something about her that was so fucking addictive. She was easily the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on, she loved music like I did, she was easy to talk to about anything (matching me perfectly in every conversation—or argument—we had), and she wore her heart on her sleeve (even though I knew she didn’t think so). She was endearing. 

Then there was the giant shroud of mystery around her. So many pieces to her puzzle I could tell she was hiding that I wanted to put together. 

But she didn’t want me to. She didn’t want me in every way. 

No. She just wanted sex. Sex with rules, at that. 

And at first, I didn't want to agree to any of the rules. I didn’t want rules—I knew what I wanted. I’d planned on it starting as sex and turning into more. You know, a natural flow of things. 

But her rules had made it apparent she didn’t want that. At all. So, I’d decided that the best way to have her was to have her however I could. 

So, if she just wanted sex, that’s what I’d give her.

Even though I wanted to give her all of me.

I never thought I’d want that with a woman again, but she’d proven me so, very wrong. . . no matter how hard I’d wanted to deny it. And I didn’t want it with just any woman. I wanted it with her. 

Though in spite of the relationship with her not being everything I wanted it to be, it gave me a special piece of her that I held so close. 

Sex with her was the most electrifying thing I’d ever experienced. More than the sex had ever been with any other woman. 

And even crazier: it was more compelling than playing the guitar. 

Fucking nuts—I’d never met a woman that had trumped the act of playing guitar. . .

But y/n had done just that. 

So, even though it wasn’t what I wanted in my heart, I knew I wanted her. Everything she was and is. Everything that came with her. 

But, if this was all I could get, it would have to do. It was better than not having her at all.

Having her in my arms, my dick filling her perfect pussy. . .it was the best part of my life at the moment. More so than the band. The festival. The fans. 

I still loved guitar more than a person should. . 

But. . .I loved being with her more than that. 

There was nothing in the world like watching her unfold at the work of my hands, or my mouth, or my cock. The way her body would tense, her head thrown back, a scrunched brow. . . And the whines she’d emit. . . 

I wished my guitar could make such a beautiful sound. 

And the way she’d squeeze around me, engulfed in her perfect, wet heat. So tight, warm, and smooth like velvet. . . Fuck. 

In my heart, though, I secretly hoped it would all change. That she’d decide to make it more. 

I wouldn’t ever push it. She mattered too much to me for me to do that to her. I didn’t want to make her feel like she needed to be more with me if she didn’t want it. . .I just wanted her to want me like I did, her.

But, for the time being, until some sort of magic happened and she changed her mind, I would take what I could get. 

Because, moments like the one I was in right now— her quivering and panting on top of me. Her sweaty tits, pressed against my thighs as her round, soft ass was flush against my equally sweaty abdomen. 

I could feel every bit of her dripping pussy, fluttering around me. It was still slick from my mouth and how well I’d made her cum just minutes prior. 

It felt so damn good and I was fucking loving every second of it. She fit my dick like a glove. 

“Damn, baby,” I sighed, grunting with a thrust against her. When she squeaked with a moan, I knew that I’d hit a special spot. “You like that?”

I did it again, just to hear the noise she made for a second time. She constricted around me and my cock pulsed, suddenly feeling very close. Shit. 

“Fuuuck,” she whined, her back arching. I held the curve of her ass in one hand, massaging the supple flesh with a thumb as I held her hip.

With another push of my hips, I met her sensitive spot one last time, eliciting a surprised whine from her. 

I flipped us around, removing her from me, and turned her. When she sank back down, she was facing towards me, once again riding my throbbing cock. 

But this view was better. Seeing her blissed out expressions as we fucked was amazing.

And when her tits bounced in my face, so round, full and sometimes already marked from my mouth, I had to try my hardest to not jizz right on the spot. 

In moments just like these, I couldn’t stop myself from leaning forward to lick a hardened nipple into my mouth. I licked around her areola, appreciating every ripple and curve of the sensitive flesh. I pointed my tongue, and nudged at the bud, just like I knew she liked. I did so to each breast, knowing it would be sure to send her spiraling and wanting that from her.

And before long, I felt her walls start contracting around me. I leaned back, knowing she was close and needing to see her finish. 

She looked down at me as she continued bouncing on top of me, her mouth opened just the slightest bit as she moaned at the angle. She relaxed her hips and flattened the inside of her thighs against the tops of mine. 

“Fuck,” I sighed, enjoying the way I could feel every damn inch of her. 

Though, I couldn’t help taking the reins for a moment to see her unfold in this position. Seeing her like this, letting the sun reflect off of her skin, beads of sweat glistening on her smooth skin. I had to let my lips find her shoulder as she rocked closer to me, and I kissed some of the sweet exertion off of her shaking body. 

And when I leaned up, my body filled hers to the point of her throwing her head back with a loud moan. She came back to, immediately finding my eyes to look at me. A secret smile was on her face. I reciprocated it, letting the quiet moment drown everything else out. 

But I snapped my eyes away from hers when she glanced between our bodies, mouth hanging open as she did so. I looked down, enjoying the entire view of her soft body. The movement of her hips, swaying steadily as she straddled me. . .completely mesmerizing. 

When I looked back up, she was waiting for me. I found her gaze, and tried my best to memorize every fleck of color in her eyes, glowing in the fading sunlight from the day. The sunset complimented her, making her look like the most magnificent piece of artwork. 

Fuck any other so-called famous painting. . .

Y/n put them all to utter shame. 

Her eyebrows dipped in, and she kept eye contact with me. I circled my hips, feeling the way her soaking walls enveloped me. Then, I pounded up into her, savoring what I could do from my position below her. She tightened deliciously around me, constricting me in the most immaculate way.

She whined and whimpered, the sound like music to my ears. And I couldn’t help but echo the sound as I felt her release drip down onto me. Her soft body was tense as she finished. She was so tight and warm around me. . .shit.

Enveloped in ecstasy, she threw her head back as she rode out her orgasm on top of me. Even though I couldn’t see her face, I appreciated what I could see. I watched her hips, still rocking against me. The view of her fresh, sweet cum on my dick made me bite my lip.

I knew I was on the verge of release, and no matter how badly I wanted to paint her walls, I pulled out. (I wasn’t ever going to do that to her. She didn’t want it, and I wasn’t about to do it if it wasn’t what she wanted.)

When I pulled myself out of her, I took a brief moment to grab her by the hips and lay her on her back. 

Her breasts were round and soft, nipples erect and begging to be covered with my climax from their home on her wet chest. 

And as I jerked myself onto them, feeling immediate relief as I came, I briefly glanced up at her face to see her watching the entrancing sight with me. 

“Like what you see?” I said, panting with one final pull of my hand against my cock, letting every last bit of me drain onto her. 

And as I let go of myself, sighing with exhaustion, I grabbed my shirt from next to her head to wipe her chest clean. She gave me a fucked-out grin. Humming an affirmation to my question, she softly nodded her head with a yawn. Her eyes fluttered closed as she curled up on my bed, her hair fanned out on the pillow. I pulled the sheets and comforter up to rest over her arms, and the smile she sent me as I did so made my heart leap in my chest. 

Dammit, she was a fuckin’ dream.

I got up to take a quick shower before the show we had tonight, leaving her to rest in my sheets. She was far too precious to disturb. 

I loved the fact that she felt comfortable enough to do that; stay in my bed. 

I knew she’d end up coming to the show tonight, and I was hoping her resting now would help her to feel fully awake to be a part of it with me.

She’d been consistent for the past couple of weeks with coming to every single show. I couldn’t help but notice that this whole fuck buddy thing had her wanting to be a part of my life more than before.

Our secret, somehow drawing us closer.

The nagging voice in my head kept reminding me that Josh was there, too, so it was possible it wasn’t all for me. . .but I also knew better and usually told the voice to shut the fuck up.

I wanted to enjoy myself—let myself be happy with her being there and not let pessimistic thoughts get in the way. 

It was fucking fantastic when I’d perform, and I’d simultaneously know that she was out there, enjoying every second of it with me. I would never say it to her for fear of freaking her out, but . . .

She was my favorite fan to entertain. The best smile in the crowd for me to look out and see. 

Anytime she was there, I knew for a goddamned fact I performed better. She was my lucky charm. 

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

The rest of July and beginning of August were chock-full of the following: finishing your summer course, working almost double time to make up for Josh’s weird hours. . .and most importantly: fucking Jake Kiszka.

All of the time, as a matter of fact. It had become an almost-daily thing. And you weren’t about to let it change. 

Because fuck was it the best sex you’d ever had. Jesus Christ. 

You were fine with it being strictly sex. It was good for both of you. He was able to stay focused on his career, and you weren't at risk of getting hurt by him, or distracted from school. It kept lines very clear and thick. Never giving any kind of idea that it could become more. You’d have sex, then go about life like normal. In front of your friends, neither of you ever let anything look even slightly amiss�� except for one thing you were sure they’d noticed. 

Your relationship had changed from before. . . Friendship, making its grand entrance. 

Having sex with Jake had, obviously, given you both several more opportunities to learn each other and bond. . . It had been impossible to not become friends. Being friendly to each other, including in front of everyone else was now the norm, and you really fucking liked it. 

Being friends with Jake was honestly great. He wasn’t constantly on the defense anymore. Instead, hopping to your defense a few times. 

Whether it be snapping at Sam for making a sideways comment he hadn’t thought of before he’d said it. Or the rando guy at the bowling alley who’d sized you up. 

You’d never vocalize the way it would make your tummy flip or the way you’d think about it later when you’d fuck him nice and slow. . . The idea of him defending you, making your heart and body do funny things. 

It was just nice to have a good friend. 

And it was even more nice knowing you’d, more likely than not, end up in his bed at the end of each day.

But, of course, not letting yourself fall asleep in there as that would definitely blur the nice, comforting, dark lines that’d been drawn.

What you weren’t about to admit was how hard it was for you to leave him at night.

And how cold you’d feel, alone in your bed. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Quiet mornings with him might were the best and the worst. 

The ones where you’d sneak into his room, always finding him still-asleep. You’d wake him up by crawling under the covers and slipping the band of his briefs down. 

It had become so routine that it was like his cock would wait for you— already hard and the tip emitting the tiniest bit of precum. 

Sometimes you’d ride it to wake him up. But, you honestly preferred the other times. . . Where you would let your mouth envelop the crown of his dick, and then the entire shaft in slow, languid strokes of your tongue. 

And every time, to your pleasure, it didn’t take long for him to awaken. His tired eyes would open, finding you as he’d wipe the sleepiness from them. 

A soft smile, gracing his handsome features. 

Then, adding to your bliss, he would take control and fuck you until your toes would curl. The morning birds would chirp outside his window as you’d unravel at his hands, mouth, or thick cock. . . a most ideal start to your day. 

Then, when he’d finish, you never found yourself looking at his face. You weren’t sure why, but it intimidated the hell out of you to witness what he looked like when he would unfold. You were sure his features looked the most beautiful they possibly could. . . Even just envisioning the dip of his brow, his mouth falling open as he emptied onto your chest, stomach, or back. . . It felt too intimate.

So, instead, you’d listen to the little noises he’d make, and watch his pretty dick pulse as it would spurt onto your breasts or tummy. The warmth of his release, a surprisingly wonderful feeling on your bare skin.

But the worst part would be after. . .when he’d clean you off with such care. How, after you’d return from the bathroom to refresh, he would be waiting for you, the covers open and an arm, extended and waiting for you to curl into. You would naturally mold to his side, his arm strong as it would help you roll into him. Usually, you’d fall asleep, with your head on his chest and hear his steady heartbeat lull you to sleep. 

But, other times, like this morning, you’d sit your chin on top of your hand, resting on his chest. And you’d just. . . talk. 

His calloused fingertips would draw mindless shapes on your back and you’d get lost in his chocolate irises. 

“What’s your middle name?” He asked, his voice so relaxing in the gray quietness of his bedroom. 

You told him, and he got a little glint in his eye. His lips had perked, “That suits you,” he sighed, letting a few fingers curl in your hair. He studied the way his fingers looked in your hair as you watched his pupils dilate in watching the action. 

“What’s yours?” You’d wondered aloud. 

His eyes found yours again, his brow raising. “Thomas,” he lazily responded. 

“Suits you,” you repeated his line. Your eyes squinted with a giggle as he tickled your side just a bit. 

“Copycat,” he smiled. 

“It does fit you,” you confirmed, more seriously. “Jacob Thomas,” you said, trying the name on your lips.

You couldn’t help but catch how his eyes lit up at the sound. He bent his arm to perch his head up with his free arm, setting his head on the curve of his forearm. 

“I like the way it sounds coming from your mouth,” he murmured. 

“Say mine,” you requested. 

And, he did as you said. 

The grin that found its way to your mouth was unstoppable. You loved the way your name sounded with his velvety tone. 

You’d never heard it sound so pretty. 

For the next ten minutes, it went on like that. 

Just little bits and pieces of yourselves, getting shared with the other. Things that didn’t expose your hidden truths, but little surface-level things that helped in knowing the other better. 

And when you finally decided to get up and start your day, you stood next to each other as you brushed your teeth. It was sweet. And you felt close to him. You really, really liked it.

But what made it so bad was that you weren’t sure it was okay to feel so close to him. It wasn’t wise to let yourselves get so wrapped up in the other. . . But it felt too nice for the time being to put a stop to it.

You’d always convince yourself that friends did shit like that all the time. How else were you supposed to get to know someone? 

So, you let it happen under the guise that it was just friends getting acquainted with each other. 

It was just so intimate. . . And what it did to your heart was cruel. 

Those quiet moments tempted you, made you want more with him. More you already knew you couldn’t ever have. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

Friends was still going on in the background when your eyes opened. All of the lights were still on, and your laptop was balanced on your blanket-covered thigh. 

And there was a giant crook in your neck from letting your head roll onto the back of the couch. 

You must’ve dozed off in the middle of writing a paper. 

Shouldn’t have had those couple glasses of wine. . ., you tiredly thought, going to snuggle back into the couch, in a more comfortable position.

But what caught you off guard was the hand rubbing your arm. The quiet voice, bringing you out of your daze. 

“Y/n,” Jake urged, his hand still smoothing up and down your arm. “Come on, babe. Wake up. Let’s get you to bed.”

You huffed, sleep pulling you back. “Don’t want sex right now. Tired.”

He chuckled, his hand still massaging your arm. Then, he was pushing you up to a full sitting position, your head felt dizzy. “I know,” he reassured, his voice calming you down. “I mean, you need to go to bed. Go to sleep.”

You blinked your eyes, squinting in the brightness of the room. “I need to finish my paper.”

“You’re too tired to do that,” he said. “You were out of it when I got back. Finish your paper tomorrow.”

You drooped your head in defeat. “Fine,” you conceded. It took a couple tries of standing up for you to realize you couldn’t do it on your own, and before you could try again, Jake was helping you. “Thanks, Jakey,” you mumbled. 

A few more guided steps to your bedroom found you sliding under your already-turned down sheets and down comforter. Jake helped your head find the pillow as you laid down to sleep.

 Just as you were about to let sleep totally take you, you jostled with a thought. “Stevie hasn’t eaten yet,” you sleepily fumbled with your covers to get up. 

Jake’s hand stopped your actions, “I already fed her,” he assured. “You go to sleep.”

“The TV and lights—.”

“I’ll turn them off,” he pulled the covers up to your chin. “Goodnight.”

Finally, you relented, and just seconds later, as you were about to fade into dreamland again, you stirred. 

Too cold. Too lonely.

“Jake?” You called. Not hearing a response, you called again. “Jake?!”

He came back, rushing in with a worried look on his face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You nestled back under your covers, relaxing knowing that he was near. Your eyes fell shut again. “Lonely,” you mumbled into the pillow. 

“What?” He crouched next to your bed, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You’re hungry?”

Irritated, you flicked your eyes open to give him a look. “Lonely.”

“Oh,” he leaned back a bit, his hand falling from your hair. At the motion stopping, you whined, shutting your eyes. He got the hint and started again. “What do you want me to do about that?”

“Lay with me.”

“That’s against the rule—.”

“Not if you just lay with me for a little bit,” you muttered, opening your lids to give him your best puppy dog eyes. “Just until I fall asleep.”

“And what if I accidentally fall asleep?”

“Worry about it in the morning,” you scooted over a little, opening the bed up for him. “Please?”

He sighed before saying, “I need to finish cleaning up real quick. I’ll be back.”

And when he came back, he’d changed into pajama pants, sans a shirt. You nuzzled into his solid chest, and let his breaths be your white noise to get you to sleep. 

It was the first night in weeks that you’d slept completely sound, not feeling any worries as you enjoyed a dreamless sleep.

-🌼🌼🌼-

He’d humored you a few times and went to the Black and Gold to look at vinyl with you on  days you both had time off.

You’d spend a bit of time browsing, and then take breaks to bicker with each other. Music was still where you occasionally butted heads, but it had turned into the kind of head butting that you enjoyed. 

It was a constant battle of challenging each other, and it gave you ample opportunity to defend the music you loved so much.

And more often than not these days . . . The little pokes and prods ended with you two conceding and giving the other person a chance. 

Usually, you’d leave the store with a new record in tow that the other had recommended. And then, you’d go home and enjoy the music together, giving it a chance. 

Then, normally, you’d end up bent over the couch as he railed you from behind, the records being the most incredible background noise to the moans and groans elicited between the two of you.

After that, the two of you spent and panting with his sweaty chest sticking to your equally sweaty back, you’d decide to order pizza and watch a few episodes of New Girl to finish the night.

-🌼🌼🌼-

“So, explain Baby Dragon.”

You giggled, just closing the K-Cup pod into the Keurig. “What?”

“Your nickname,” he affirmed, coming to stand with his butt pressed against the sink, arms crossed. His face was open, imploring out of mere curiosity. 

“They decided to call me that when we started binging Game of Thrones together.” 

He nodded. “I knew that part.” He continued, “But why?”

Humming, you took your coffee mug off the Keurig. You tapped your chin, holding the mug in the other hand. “Have you seen Game of Thrones?” 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “That shit’s right up my alley.”

“So, you know how the baby dragons are small, yet fierce?” You asked, taking a cautious sip of the hot drink. “The guys claimed I was super adorable and cute like them, too. Fuckin’ weirdos.”

It all clicked in his head, a smirk on his features as he nodded. “Duh, Jake,” he said to himself, shaking his head. “That makes so much sense. I don’t know why it didn’t click before.”

“To be fair, it could’ve meant a variety of things.”

He reached an arm above your head, getting his own K-cup and mug down from the cabinet and began his own brew as he eyed you up and down. 

“You are fierce,” he agreed. But then he took a hand to your hip, squeezing. “But not quite as small as the baby dragons,” he snaked his hand around to hold a handful of your ass. You felt yourself immediately twitch with need. He leaned down and kissed your lips, his breath fresh from his Crest toothpaste. Your tummy filled with warm fuzzies. “You’re curvier. In all the best fucking ways,” he pulled away and you instantly missed him. He grabbed his coffee off the machine and added sugar. 

You’d already started cracking some eggs for breakfast, as he went about getting the toast ready for you. 

He placed a strong hand on your stomach, and you leaned into his touch as you scrambled your eggs. You tipped your head back as he swooped your hair to the side to give you a quick kiss on the lips. 

Then, he was passing you as he made his way out and to the shower. But on his way out of the kitchen, he stopped to add, “And you’re way fuckin’ cuter.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

It was a steaming hot day in the middle of August when Sam proposed that everyone join him at this AirBnb he had booked. 

(It had been a classic, weird Sam thing to book the AirBnb. Literally just getting it to spend the weekend hooking up with a girl he’d recently met.)

About halfway through the day, the sun beating down on all of you, Josh proposed using the little bar off the side of the place. Sam, Daniel, and Sam’s ‘friend’ had heartily agreed. You had as well, and went to get out with everyone else. 

But then you heard Jake’s voice, and paused. 

“Y/n and I are enjoying the water too much. ‘S hot as fuck,” he had said it loud enough for everyone to give simultaneous ‘okay!’s’ in response. They were all hurriedly making their way to the mini bar, leaving you in the pool.

You’d stopped yourself, still partially out of the pool, halfway up the ladder. Looking back at him, questioning, you found he was blatantly staring at your mostly exposed ass, that was peeking just above the water. 

You squinted your eyes at him, as he lounged with his arms on the concrete edge of the pool. He was still sitting where he’d been last time you’d seen him. Sitting on a little ledge beneath the water. His sunglasses pushed down his nose a bit to expose his line of sight, burning into your ass. 

And when everyone was out of earshot, you spoke. “Like what you see, Kiszka?” 

His eyes snapped to yours when you’d spoken, a smirk gracing his dark features. “Fuck yeah I do,” he nodded his head at you once, signaling you to move. “Come over here.”

And without having to be told twice, you sunk back into the cool water, swimming over to meet him. Never breaking eye contact, you waded slowly and grabbed a noodle to rest your arms and breasts on as you floated over. 

He continued on as you got close. “Did you have to wear the tiniest swimsuit you own?”

You looked bashful, but your smile was flirty. “Oh, you think it’s too small? Should I get rid of it?”

When you were close enough, he reached out a hand to pull you into him by your pool noodle. 

He spoke softly in your ear. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

Your skin blazed, you whispered in his exposed ear, his hair tucked behind it. “Why?”

He grabbed the noodle out from under your chest and threw it over the edge of the pool, landing with a flop on the pavement. And when he could, he grabbed you smoothly by your waist, into his crotch. 

And you were suddenly able to feel why. He was hard against you, making your legs weak and your pussy flutter. He was smug, his sunglasses still pushed down as you matched his stare and met his boldness by wrapping your legs around him. 

You used your new position to rock your hips into his, the pool waving out around you just a bit as you did so. 

“You better be careful,” he said softly, his grip going to your round ass, your bottoms leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. 

You tensed, gasping when you felt his fingers toy with the string of your bikini bottoms. 

“The more noise you make, the sooner they’ll come back,” he swiftly untied one of the strings, exposing you to the water. The coldness made you hiss through your teeth. “Mm,” he hummed. “Cold, baby? Let me warm you up.” 

A finger slipped inside of you and you had to bite your lip to hide the moan dying to leave your lips. You felt his finger slip in and out, in and out, getting closer to hitting your secret spot every time it would reenter. You wrapped an arm around his neck. “Your finger?” You asked haughtily, breathing heavy. “Was expecting mor—.”

You couldn’t hide the gasp as the one finger changed to two, plunging into you, his thumb drawing circles against your hard clit. “Better, princess?”

Changing from one arm around his neck to two, you thrusted into his fingers, rolling your hips to match his thumb on your clit. The water waved around you. Gripping his hair, you looked into his sunglasses, now pushed back up, his eyes blazing through the tinted lenses. Your body was shaking, but you weren’t going to cum like this. 

You knew what you wanted right now and it wasn’t his fingers. 

“Too scared to use your dick?” You challenged him.

He momentarily removed his fingers, roughly bringing you back to feel his thick, clothed shaft. Your bare folds pulsed at the feeling of him so close to you. You felt him twitch underneath you. 

“What’s stopping you, Jakey?” You reached one hand, one arm keeping your balance to thrust into him, to play with the hem of his black trunks. “Afraid they’ll see?”

He replaced his fingers in you again, flexing them once again, this time meeting your g-spot. You exhaled above him, your body tensing. “Are you?” He questioned, seeming to genuinely wonder. “You don’t want them to know. I'm just trying to respect your rules, sweetheart,” he used the nickname, but his tone was anything but sweet, dripping with sarcasm. 

You didn’t take the time to respond, stopping your movements briefly, and looking behind your shoulder to check if the coast was clear. You couldn’t even hear them anymore. They were gone for the time being. If you moved swiftly enough. . . 

He looked disappointed for a second, but you couldn’t see what else his face did as you acted on your quick, risky idea, holding your nose to plunge underwater and pull his bottoms down, his hips moving up immediately to help you. You took no time to sink your wet mouth over his smooth cock. It wasn’t as heavy as you were used to on your tongue, the water helping with some sort of anti-gravity shit. 

There was a hand in your hair, pushing you down onto him. You knew he’d like it. Keeping your nose pinched, you reached the other hand, slowly through the water, to wrap at his base, squeezing him. Your tongue licked long stripes on the underside of his dick, savoring it and meeting his head every time you squeezed him with your hand. 

But you didn’t keep that way for long, needing to breathe. You pulled his bottoms almost all the way back up, but left his dick out. When you re-emerged, smoothing your hair back, you took a good look at his face, seeing his mouth hanging open. 

Ha, gotcha, you thought, deviously. Just you wait, baby.

When you came back to him you took zero time as you reached below the water to find his length. You positioned yourself over it, quickly sinking onto him, ready to get this over with before people came back. But as your walls fluttered around him, you wished you were alone. 

He felt so damn good. Fuck. 

You wiggled your hips, the smallest whine escaping your lips at how well he filled you up. This caused his head to roll to the side the slightest bit, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Feel good?” You teased, rocking your hips on top of his thick cock. “We’ve gotta make this quick, so help a girl out.”

You shouldn’t have said anything, because as soon as the words left your mouth, he was grasping your hips, leveling himself to slam up into you. 

The loud moan that left your mouth was unavoidable, and you clasped a hand over your mouth to keep your noises hushed. 

He raised his hips as forcefully as he could with the weight of the water, lifting you up and down a few times, and you matched him with measured rolls of your hips. 

Without any warning, he pulled a triangle of your swim top to the side to see a tit as they bounced with each thrust. He leaned forward a bit, licking a circle around your nipple and then grasped your boob in his strong hand as he pumped with merciless rhythm into you. 

“Fuck,” you moaned through your hand. Your breast was still tingling from where he licked it. But now you had the friction from his palm against your nipple, combined with his movements. . . And it was too much. You removed your hand, leaning to whisper in his ear. “More, Jake.”

And, without relenting even a bit, he started giving you exactly what you asked for. It was slightly painful, but it was what you needed at that moment. 

You started groaning into his ear, feeling his thickness slide smoothly within you. Sensing your need, he slipped a thumb between you to rub even circles against your bundle of nerves. The steady circles, along with the erratic thrusts of his dick into you, sent you spiraling, quick. 

Knowing you well, he pushed your mouth into his sweat-drenched neck. Your tongue found the saltiness of his skin, kissing his neck to mask the noises that left you, your legs quivering as you finished. 

Just as soon, he was pulling himself out of you, and lifting his bottoms back up to cum behind the black material. 

You dunked beneath the water to cool off, and to your happy surprise, he joined you, his sunglasses off. Looking into his eyes for as long as you could, you sent him a little grin, going to lift back up. But before you could, he grabbed you swiftly behind your neck and met your lips underwater. 

As soon as you parted, you were rising back up, pushing your hair back as he placed his sunglasses over his eyes again.

And, as if on cue, you heard feet scuttling back to the pool just as you were adjusting your top and re-tying your bottoms above water. 

“Drinks!” Josh sang to you both. He handed both you and Jake your respective beverages. You sipped yours, and Jake took a healthy swig of beer as soon as they were placed in your hands. 

“This is fucking delicious,” you commented. “What is it?”

“Pineapple Upside Down,” Sam’s girl-thing responded, sipping her own. 

You hummed, nodding. 

Taking another drink, you went to sit it down on the pool when Danny piped up. “Whatever the hell you guys were playing while we were gone. . . We’re in.” 

You went silent, not even daring to look over at Jake. Though, you could hear as he started choking on his drink. 

“So much splashing!” Sam added. “It sounded fun!”

“Sunken Treasure, I’m sure,” Josh chimed in, grabbing the sinking stick from the ledge next to his long-haired twin. “You guys know Jake loves that game.”

The other two gave sounds of agreement. Your belly flipped.

Letting yourself look over at Jake, he was looking at Josh, nodding, trying his best to look convincing. “Hell yeah,” he piped up. “It’ll be more fun with more people though.”

“Well then. . .let’s play!” Josh yelled, excited. His new curls, sopping wet and sticking to his forehead as he threw the stick into the water.

Before you started playing, you sent a secret glance to your roommate, who was already smirking over at you. 

Your cheeks heated, getting a thrill at how oblivious all of your friends were to what you had truly been “playing.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

You were with Theo at a coffee shop, studying for the final in your summer course, when the first email came in. 

The first email that signaled the end of summer. The usual “Welcome Back!” email which included too many campus announcements and upcoming events. . . 

Your heart sunk when you saw it come in. 

Deep in your gut, you knew that this was what you’d been dreading since starting things with Jake. 

Real life getting in the way of summer and the fun you’d been having with Jake. 

You didn’t know why, but this email seemed to scream at you that you needed to get your shit together. 

And, as hard as it was, you were going to try your damndest to ignore the voice in your head for the time being. It was the same aggravating, pessimistic voice that bothered you consistently by speaking so-called reason into your life. 

(The same, familiar one that’d looked out for you as you’d grieved your mother leaving you as a little girl.)

This time, it felt as though the voice was also telling you that when school started, it would be time to cut things off with Jake. 

It’s not a smart decision to start your senior year distracted, y/n, it chided.

But you didn’t want to listen to that fucking voice. 

Not yet. 

Summer wasn’t over. And you weren’t about to let the damned nagging voice end your fun (and newfound, genuine happiness) too soon.  

-🌼🌼🌼-

You came home from studying, close to tears. It was ridiculous. There was no reason to be so sad about all of this ending. It was literally just sex. You could get it elsewhere.

But I don’t want it elsewhere, you thought. I only want it with Jake. Fuck. Why?

If you thought about it long enough, you’d let yourself see why. But you weren’t about to do that. Hell no. 

To your surprise, while you were feeding Stevie, you felt a tear hit your hand. 

You groaned, wiping furiously under your eyes, pressing your palms to your heated cheeks. “Stupid,” you told yourself, hearing your voice was thick with tears. 

Just as you felt another tear leave your eye, the front door opened. 

You tried to turn before Jake could see you, but Stevie came up to your leg, purring to comfort you before you could. Shit. 

“Y/n?” He said, placing a comforting hand on your back. Hesitantly, you looked up at him through your tears. Why were you crying so fucking much? “You okay, baby?”

The pet name was the final straw, and instead of it making you angry with him that he’d said it, it sent you curling into his arms. 

Letting your tears soak his shirt, you cried out of ridiculous sadness that you’d have to say goodbye to this thing you had with him soon. Too soon.

You couldn’t keep it. You would never let whatever this was distract either of your paths. And you knew eventually it would. Better to end it before that ever happened.

But not yet.

And, as always, you were set on it not being something to lose your best friend over. If Josh were to find out of it happening, you knew his trust would be completely betrayed.

This wasn’t something that was meant to last. You’d known that from the beginning. So why was it feeling so hard to face right now?

Because you’re finally feeling true happiness and trust with someone new—someone special— for the first time in years, the sweet, comforting voice in your head spoke. Because he is something special and you know it.

You continued to feel Jake, running his fingers through your hair, rubbing your back in comforting strokes. “Shhh,” he soothed. You raised your head from his chest and he used his thumbs to wipe away the excess tears. When eventually you’d caught your breath, he asked. “What happened?”

Looking up at him, you found his brow furrowed in concern. You couldn’t fully tell him what you were actually upset about. Absolutely not. 

Moving away from him the slightest bit to gain your bearings, you sniffed a few times. “Just intimidated by what’s to come, I guess,” you said, not lying. Just not giving the whole truth. “Not ready for life to change with senior year and stuff.”

He lifted his lips in a reassuring grin, his eyes full of empathy for your current state. “I get that,” he said, his raspy voice ever-soothing. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, smoothing your cheek in the process. “But surely it won’t be too bad, right?”

You had to bite your lip to keep another sob from breaking loose. Sniffing the tears back, you nodded, slapping a fake smile on your face. “Yeah. Not too bad.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: as the saying goes, good things don't always last forever. . . next chapter will bring some changes for our precious y/n and jake . . . what do you think those changes will be?

please, as always, don't hesitate to reach out! i love, love, love hearing from you all! your feedback means the world to me &lt;3

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr

[obsessedwithitall]

It's Embarrassing (Eddie Munson x reader) (Part 2)

I woke up this morning with this in my head and have been trying to write it all day.

Everyone is in their 20s, Eddie and reader have been in a secret relationshipish for a few months. Angst.

Part 1 is here

***

“Hey, my car needs looking at please.”

It was you. Eddie was mad he hadn’t recognised your voice before he turned round. If he had, he wouldn't have turned around at all.

He wiped his hands on the towel on his shoulder and sighed to himself. “I'll get one of the guys to look at it.”

“Couldn't you look at it?”

“No.” he snapped quickly.

***

Eddie rapped his knuckles on the top of a car.

“What?” Paul, Eddie’s co-worker, spoke from underneath the car.

“There’s a girl who needs her car looking at.”

“Ok, well look at her car.”

He waited a second, sizing up his options. It was his job to fix cars but he really didn't want to speak to you. He cleared his throat, “Can you do it?”

“Munson, I'm a bit busy right now.” And Eddie knew he had no choice.

***

Eddie reappeared and moved towards your car.

“What's wrong with it?” He was going to look at it after all. Maybe there was a chance you could talk or maybe he just didn't have a choice.

“Erm, I don't know.”

“What? Is it making a weird noise? Does it smell bad?”

“I don't know.”

Eddie popped the hood and rummaged around. You just watched, all words catching in your throat.

“Did you drive here?” he huffed.

“Yeah.”

He stood tall and started walking away from you. Was that it?

“That's gonna be 100 dollars.”

“100 dollars?!” What did he mean 100 dollars?

“Yeah, its a really hard job.”

“What do you mean 100 dollars?” you followed him through the doors of the garage.

“Loads of hours work. Your car is totally fucked.”

You stopped and spluttered, “I think it might only be a spark plug.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks and turned to you, clearly annoyed.

“Yeah, where’s the old one?”

He threw his dirty towel over his shoulder and took a few angry steps towards you. His voice dropped really quiet. “A car doesn’t drive with a spark plug missing, so what did you do with it?”

You take a step back and shook your head feigning ignorance but Eddie reaches forward into the front pocket of your jeans and pulled out what he was looking for. He held the spark plug up to your face.

“You shouldn't have done that.” He checked the spark plug for damage and replaced it, slamming the hood down again.

You ran after him as he walked away. “You’ve been ignoring me.” You blurted out.

“You could’ve hurt yourself.”

“I asked Wayne to tell you to call me but you didn’t.”

“I thought I embarrass you, don’t I?”

“I never said that.”

“And you had a ‘reputation’.”

“I’m sorry. Robin wouldn’t leave me alone about that hickey and I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what we were. I thought...I don't know I just panicked.”

“Well you can panic with somebody else.”

“I’m not embarrassed by you. It wasn't you. I just-“

Eddie just looked at you. Eyes almost tearing up, mirroring yours. Maybe you should just be honest.

“Look, you’re hot and open with me and I don't know what to do or how to tell people and maybe I was a bit uncomfortable with other people thinking about me like that. And we hadn't really gone on any dates or anything and I was maybe a little bit worried that you only wanted to sleep with me. I’m sorry.”

He continued saying nothing.

“I shouldn’t have come. I'm sorry. I’ll pay you for the fixing my car.”

“Don’t.”

“Eddie, I wasted your time, I’ll give you somethi-“

“Go out with me.”

The words, once again, stuck in your throat and wouldn't escape. Did you even hear him right?

“Go on a date with me and we'll call it even.”

You heard him right. “Just one date?” You felt a bit disappointed.

“Well yeah, then hopefully some more after that. If you're not embarrassed by me?”

His arms wrapped around you as you flung yourself at him, your arms wrapping around his neck and your legs bending up behind you.

He put you down and kissed the end of your nose. “Now go away, I’m working. I’ll pick you up later.”

You laughed at his stupid smile and jumped back in your car, to get ready for tonight and to tell your friends. Ready to prove to him how not embarrassed of Eddie Munson you were.

***

Part 1 is here

Any feedback is welcome and encouraged. Thank you so much for reading 💜💜💜

[I only watched the first 7 episodes of season one of Stranger Things so I'm sorry if it feels wrong. I will not be watching anymore]

[matmiraculous]

Support Group Drabble #1

"This whole Support Group gets bigger every day doesn't it?" Eldest muttered, half to himself as he looked around the room. They could... probably leave at any time. Eldest hadn't really tried since the first day when he realized time was kinda... wonky here. He didn't really have to worry all that much about back home and he got to talk to other versions of himself that had gone through awful things, sometimes worse things than himself. 

It was a weird experience, but kinda cathartic.

"Seems fucking like it," Grey mumbled, crossing his arms. 

"Come on man stop being such a downer." Eldest chuckled softly, nudging the first member of the group with his elbow. 

Grey shifted away and shot a glare that wasn't really heated at Eldest. "Don't do that. It's too early for that. And I'm tired. So so tired," he said.

"You're always tired man." Which... fair honestly. Eldest was often tired too what with all the stress of back home and his natural tendency to big brother people. That often ended with him TRYING to help all the other JD's here and often getting himself into some shit. Like the time Feral stole his arm. 

He subconsciously rolled his shoulder and checked to make sure his prosthetic was secure. Good, still there.

Grey huffed and crossed his arms. "I'm allowed to be. I'm an old man."

"Aren't we roughly the same age? Late 30's early 40's?" Eldest asked, looking Grey up and down.

The shorter JD shrugged and sighed, slumping forward. "Yeah yeah, I'm still an old man. I've been through some shit, Eldest. And I'm tired," Grey mumbled. 

"Thats... fair." He shrugged, his eyes following Feral and Snake Dory as the two tussled like rabid cats. Such was the ever strange normal of this support group. He could probably try and stop it but Snake was still new and Eldest didn't much wanna get back on Feral's "bad" side.

Grey huffed a little but was quiet again.

"We've both been through a lot of shit. I'll give you that." Eldest murmured softly, more to himself.

"Yeah." Grey muttered gruffly. "I know all of us have been through some shit though," he continued, looking around the room at the various JDs, who were all busy talking. 

"Sounds awfully sappy and sentimental of you. You gone soft and started caring about us?" Eldest grinned slyly.

"Don't push your luck," Grey grumbled, though the slight twitch upwards of his mouth betrayed him. 

Eldest laughed softly and shook his head. He wasn't surprised, they'd known each other for a while now. Long enough to call one another friends. "Wouldn't dream of it. Wouldn't wanna end up in the dog house, I'd never hear the end of it."

"I'll kick your ass." Grey warned, but there was no heat to it.

"That's a lie and you know it."

"It isn't."

"Oh yeah? Why don't you come over here and kick my ass then?"

Grey huffed and looked away from Eldest. "Don't tempt me. I just might."

Eldest rolled his eyes. "Sure ya will buddy. Just remember not to go overboard. Wouldn't wanna throw out your back old man."

"You're not funny," Grey muttered, but there was amusement in his eyes.

Eldest couldn't help but snicker and pat Grey on the back.

Grey swatted his hand away. "Watch it, I'll bite."

"Okay Feral." He rolled his eyes and went back to looking around. "Uh... Is Brotherhood talking to Unsual and his Creek over there?"

"Fuck-"

Bunker Bro's my beloved. The Besties ever. ... If it isn't clear, Bunker Bros is Eldest and Grey's bestie team name lol. Mentioned AU's: Eldest and Youngest - Me < 3 Unusual Brother - Me and @ijjstlostthegame Grey - @ijjstlostthegame Feral - @draco-after-dark Snake - @gingisauce (WIP) Brotherhood - @tea0w0stache and @0ketlyn-s