#just adding onto the tears this morning i see | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pinkrelish · 1 year

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶What was meant to be a quiet evening of DND gets out of hand before it even begins, and when the guys leave a bottle of whiskey behind, all those passes you and Eddie made at each other grow to a new level.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, drunken yearning, drunken flirting, dirty jokes, sexual tension, failed phone sex, light angst, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut

obi-wan voice: this isn't the first kiss chapter you're looking for (it's in the next one)

chapter: 9/20 [wc: 23.8k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 9: Dungeons & Dragons & Unicorns, oh my!

Occupying the narrow space available in Mr. Moore’s cramped office, Carl exchanged a look with Kevin over the edge of his coffee mug as he tipped it back, and coasted the bitter liquid across his tongue, swallowing with trouble. He winced at the potency. Kevin gave him an apologetic grimace.

“You made this too strong,” Carl whispered.

Kevin took a sip as well, and clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, admonishing his mistake of putting too many grounds in the machine. “She just makes it better.”

David hunched forward in his plush leather chair. Around him, filing cabinets were open, sticky notes reminders hung crooked on the drawers, and his desk was stacked with customer’s invoices.

Three days you’d been gone and the world had devolved into chaos.

“Yeah, gotcha,” David said into the phone crooked between his shoulder and ear, jotting down an unrelated note on the corner of an envelope. “You feel better soon, ya hear?” He threw an excessive eye roll onto the end of his sentence when the voice on the other end kept rattling off. “I told ya to stop worryin’ about it. Now, get some rest. Yeah. Bye.”

He hung up, and addressed his audience waiting on bated breath, “Ed’s callin’ in sick again.”

“Third day in a row,” Carl commented.

Kevin gestured at the state of the office with his mug. “Third day for her too.” David muttered an acknowledgement, missing his Office Administrator who had taken up the responsibility of organizing all the documents into their rightful place.

“Three days, huh? And both with the flu?” Kevin restated in a leading tone.

“Both with the flu,” David confirmed.

“Not suspicious at all,” Carl added.

In unison, the three men put their mugs to their lips, sipped the coffee, winced, and made noises of disgust.

But after all that, Kevin beamed at his friends. “Good for them,” he said. “Ed deserves someone like her.”

In unison, they agreed, and sipped, and made a pact to dump out their mugs in the sink.

————

You arrived to work with an unglamorous wad of tissue balled in your fist, and a raw nose. Lingering sniffles ailed you, as did the body lethargy, but you were no longer contagious. It sucked to exist in this head-cold sphere, but it was nice to leave the house after days spent in-and-out of a Nyquil daze.

And yes, you were eager to see Eddie again, despite the twist of dread in your stomach.

It’d been days since you left his place on a good note, but would the remnants of his tears be this weird unstated suspense in between breaths of conversation? Would there be an underlying presence of you know all the intimate details of my life in the otherwise cheerful morning greeting? Would things go back to normal as if nothing happened?

Regardless, the morning greeting would have to wait. There were a million things to do around the auto shop since you’d been absent; first of which was going into Mr. Moore’s office, and fighting the disarray to find his updated schedule detailing his upcoming meetings, lunches, and days he’d be out of town. You grabbed a marker and went to work on the calendar in the garage, transcribing the schedule for the guys to see so they could stop asking you if Mr. Moore was in his office or not (especially when his door was right there and they could check for themselves).

Crossing out the first week of January, you began to write down one of the meetings when the back door was thrown open, and an ominous death knell tolled in a jangle of chains and heavy boots, making a veritable effort to stomp as loudly as possible on their way to you.

The eagerness disappeared. Only tumultuous dread now.

Your delicate smile was replaced by a canvas of annoyance. “Why are you so loud?” you winced. And winced again when you heard your stuffed-up voice.

You didn’t have to look away from the note you were jotting down to see his impish grin. He practically forced you to see it when he folded his arms, and imposed his shoulder on the wall, making the calendar page slip under your marker in a long red streak.

He ducked his head to catch your eye. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? I’m walking as I always do; not a hop, skip, or bounce extra.” Eddie’s tight lips parted in your periphery, showing a gleam of teeth. Raising his voice a tick, he drove the dread deeper, “My girl isn’t flinching at every sound because she has a headache, right?”

Having no sense of self restraint, nor manners, Eddie invaded more of your personal space. His chest swelled with a held breath while his tongue prepared a taunt and his eyes squinched half-closed. “It couldn’t be because you’re sick, right? Not Miss Queen of the City who’s been coughed on by every germ out there, making her tougher than the common cold, hmm? Couldn’t be because of that?”

Capping the marker, you let your side-eye graduate to a full fledged incredulous stare at his much-too-giddy expression. “It’s allergies,” you said, crumpling the tissue into your pocket.

“Allergies, huh? Which ones?”

“The ones I’m allergic to.”

“Interesting, interesting,” he humored you, “very interesting since, y’know, the most common allergies people have around here are to grass and weed pollen, and those suckers are dead and buried under a layer of snow. Won’t be growing for quite some months, so..”

You glared at his need to follow up that observation with his lips pursed into a mocking kiss of arrogance, provoking you to fold while simultaneously flaunting the sharp cut of his cheekbones.

“Fine,” you admitted in a low tone. “I got sick.” Noting the heavy bags under his red-rimmed eyes, you quirked an eyebrow, and asked, “Have you been working overtime without me?”

He brightened. “Oh, no. Adrie got me sick too. This is my first day back.”

“Have I ever told you how so,” you paused for emphasis, and prodded the pen cap into his sternum, “so very irritating you are?” He cupped his hand over your wrist, and cradled your fist to his chest. Drawing you in, in, in. Cold seeping through your sleeve from his red fingers, never kicking his habit of smoking before coming inside, regardless of the weather. “Just the worst,” you admonished, finding it difficult to resist the magnetism of his laughter quaking under your palm, urging yourself to favor the adorable scrunch above his nose, and guide your thoughts away from his unzipped leather jacket.

But the draw was too strong. You swayed closer until your forearm was pressed to the dragon tattoo hidden beneath his coveralls, and your tennis shoe grazed past the tip of his metal-toed boot

He recalled, “That’s weird. I remember you saying I was your favorite.”

“I said you were my favorite date. As far as people go, you’re in my top three. Robin, Adrie, you,” you listed on the fingers trapped against his inhale.

He lifted his chin, regarding you down the slope of his magnificent nose. “You rank Adrie above me?”

“Well, think about it this way; you rank above all the other people I’ve met. And I’ve met a lot of people, you know.”

“That isn’t instilling a lot of confidence, babe.”

Sweetheart. Babe. My girl. His hand on your hand. His cold fingers cupping your palm, searing you despite their lack of heat; so different from how you came to know them, as hesitant pauses on his tools when you greeted him and he frowned as if to ask why you were speaking to him.

Was this it? Was this the new normal?

You hoped so.

Cheeks warmed by the multitude of pet names, you put an edge of dissatisfaction on your question to cover how his affections affected you, “Is that my job? To make you feel good about yourself?” Hotter, hotter. His intensity was burning you.

You wiggled the marker in your grasp until you could tap it at the second unfastened button on his coveralls. “I think you just keep me around so you have someone to call you handsome.”

“No way,” he said. He tilted his head to the side, resting it on the wall. His tangly mess of hair followed the movement, laying against his throat. “But.. Just for clarification, I am handsome, right?”

“Of course you’re handsome.”

“Aw, you flatter me, gorgeous,” he said in mock bashfulness, turning his face away while you stared at him in utter exasperation. “Love to hear it from my favorite.”

Gorgeous. Love. Favorite.

You didn’t question his favorite what. Person, place, or thing? Who knows. Words escaped you when the honey in his eyes twinkled with something tender, and his dopey smile softened at the edges, and his heart pounded a story against your touch, and his grin faded more, and his lips regained their pretty pink plumpness, and his voice reached deeper–to the place where your hand felt the creation of vibrations–and his tongue put a new spin on a sentiment as old as time.

“I missed you,” he said, features going lax as he dropped the overly flirtatious act. He let go of your fist to reach out and pinch your upper arm without an ounce of strength in his sweet teasing.

It took you an extra beat to withdraw your hand from his person.

You scoffed, “Uh-huh. I can tell by how you’re trying to butter me up, and annoy me to death at the same time.”

“Don’t tell me I’ve become the sunshine in our relationship now,” he snorted. And before he gave your stomach time to flutter at the word choice: relationship, he was stabbing his finger at the rumpled calendar.

He looked where he pointed, and dropped it down another Saturday. “I meant to ask you this before you left the other day, but we’re at a good spot in our DND campaign for a new person to join if you wanted to come. Sessions are a bitch to schedule now that we’re all adults and have lives, jobs, and responsibilities, and whatever, and I haven’t, uh, hosted one at my place in a while” –years– “so it’s kinda an extra special event, and would be cool if you wanted to come by.”

You wrung your mouth at the invitation.

“C’mon, I promise it’ll be fun.”

“I know it’s easy to assume I’m a giant loser like you, but even being a theater kid, I’ve never played DND,” you told him. “I don’t wanna ruin your game, or impose on your friends enjoying their night. Or, like, clash if we don’t get along, or somethin’.”

He cast his gaze wildly around the room. Extra dramatic. “You won’t ruin our game, and my friends will love you–they’re the rest of my band, and some kids who were in my club in high school. You’ll fit right in. And besides.. I want you to meet them.”

Delightful goosebumps tingled at your scalp. Meeting his friends was quite the step in your relationship. And no, mutual friends via Bobbie did not count.

You filled your lungs, and expelled your sigh at the calendar, reading over your penmanship while you thought it over.

“And maybe I didn’t phrase my question correctly. Let me try again.” He cleared his throat. “Will you play DND with us?”

Will you?

A ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.

“Ah, taking that route,” you said. And just to mess with him, you tapped the marker on the tip of his nose. “Sure–yes–I’ll join you in your roleplaying game, but if they don’t like me, I told you so.”

“Why wouldn’t they like you?”

“I dunno, it took you weeks to speak to me.”

“Yeah, but I’m me.” Eddie shoved himself off the wall and began walking behind you, brushing his hand across your lower back, and bending to your ear to whisper a coy gloat, “And I play hard to get.”

All smiles, smiles, smiles. He took two bouncy steps backwards, opened the glass door in a wide swing and spun on his way inside, whipping his hair in a blur of brunette.

Bewildered by his dorky charm, you watched him through the windows, sighing out the air in your lungs to make room for the blossoming throbs of adoration when he caught his hip on the corner of your desk and tried walking off the pain in case you were watching, only for him to keel over right before he reached the hallway.

You shook your head and resumed where you were in Mr. Moore’s schedule. “You are absolutely not hard to get.”

Looking up, you found the day you were supposed to mark with an important phone meeting, and instead..

January 16th

DND

You drew stars around it, experiencing the childhood rush of endorphins that came from doodling hearts around your crush’s name in your yearbook, and giggling with your friends over it, betting you could get their number so you could call them over the summer, acutely aware none of you would ever dare.

————

Stress squeezed Eddie’s throat. Each cry, each sob, each sniffle set him on edge. His headache pounded, his chest clutched onto the calming breaths he was supposed to prioritize, his heart raced sweat to his skin. Everything was falling apart around him.

“Yeah–Yeah, no, it’s okay. Yeah.” He hung up the phone, chord swaying against the grimy wall, and he pressed his fists above his eyes, turning in a slow circle.

Whistling, screeching, wailing. The boiling kettle on the stovetop pierced the sound of Adrie’s hiccupy bawling. Growing louder, and louder. Rising above the blood pulsing in his ears, the twitch in his strained muscles. The anger under the surface, bubbling. A vice on his chest. Clenching his jaw. Gripping harder. Growing bigger, and bigger, and bigger, his emotions grew bigger until the frustration slipped.

Eddie snapped the stove knob to the off position, and jiggled the broken shitty plastic back on the dial. He moved the kettle to the back burner–sucking his bottom lip in and biting down hard, seeking the relief of pain to keep himself from slamming the kettle into the next dimension. And after swallowing the thickened saliva in his mouth, he walked away from what would’ve been his late, late oatmeal breakfast.

The trailer rattled less and less.

His heavy footsteps exhausted to his socks sliding across the vinyl.

“Adrie,” he begged her name again, and again as he knelt to her chair at the green table. He passed his hand over her hair, petting it away from the sticky streaks of tears on her red cheeks, and he cradled her head to his neck. The flash of anger was gone. It should’ve never seen the light of day, but he was human. He was a single person, and he tamed it the best he could. He was fragile, about to break at the next sob in his ear, but he tried. “Daddy’s gonna fix it, okay? I’ll make it better. I’ll make it better. Let Daddy make it better.”

He was stuck in the loop again. Where everything was so much, and he was so weak. Gathering her as if she were still small and could fit into the crook of his arm. “Let Daddy fix it,” he begged again, rocking her as he did all those years ago; for her, and for him, not having the capacity to do more than cry along with her.

Peeling himself away from her neediness, he worked his hoodie from her fists, and dialed his last resort.

It rang.

And rang.

Hopelessness burdened the expanse of shoulders, dropping them at the fourth trill. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, pick up.” The only thing helping calm him was his hand pressed over his eyes. One less stimulus.

Another ring. He was about to give up when–

“Hello?”

“Hey, man! Uh, uhm, what’re you up to?”

The casualness was lost when Steve’s pause elongated to a nasally noise of understanding when Adrie’s whine cut through the static, and Eddie’s cheek smashed to the receiver as he moved into the hallway, curling his frame to the phone like it were a lifeline.

Steve’s tone feathered to the same one he used five years ago when Eddie called frequently, “Is everything okay over there? Nancy and I were packing up the car to head out of town with the kids, but I have a minute. What’s up?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s okay, uh–hey, you have Robin’s number, right? For her parent’s place?”

His mood lightened, “Yeah, I think Nance does in her pocketbook. Nance!” He called out for her. Then, he spoke into the receiver, as gently as possible, with grace for him to deny if he wanted, “You’re not trying to call Robin, are you?”

“No.. No, I’m not.”

There was a stint of silence where neither of them broke the wordless understanding woven into their connection; phone, chord, wires, friendship.

At last, Nancy’s footsteps came in clicks on their hardwood flooring, and Steve expressed a soft, “I’m happy for you, man.”

Eddie didn’t correct him that it was about his game night. He simply let his friend’s praise fill the void. It’d been a long time since someone was proud of him.

————

The modest house near the empty plot of land was unassuming. Not much money was invested into the foundation, nor the many repairs, but oddly, it was the furniture and fine dinnerware passed through generations that would have anyone second guessing why a home with a cracked window from two summers ago had a china cabinet. And really, any gust during a storm could shatter the glass pane covered by a delicately orange curtain, but it hadn’t happened yet, and therefore, there was no need to fix it.

In the living room, the TV was too loud. In the kitchen, you closed the fridge with your foot and took the tea kettle off the stove, balancing the makings of a sandwich in your arms.

Eddie said to come over half an hour before everyone else so he could help you create your character sheet, and with it being 4PM, you had three hours before you were supposed to head out, and were spending the afternoon with Robin’s parents while she went to Vickie’s before her late night shift.

You placed two slices of bread on a plate when the phone rang.

From the other room, Robin’s dad answered, and his dry vocal chords carried an air of confusion, “Someone’s calling for you!”

“If they’re asking for bail, I’m not here,” you replied in a monotone voice, getting a butter knife out of the drawer.

There was a shuffle as he sat forward in his chair and inquired, wholeheartedly, “Are you asking for bail?” He waited for a reply while you continued to unscrew the cap to the peanut butter. “He says he’s not!”

“Mm.” Unconvinced this wasn’t one of your friends calling from a police station, you finished pouring the two cups of tea you were intending to make, put sugar into one, and carried them into the living room.

“He sounds like a nice young man,” he assured, adjusting the nasal cannulas higher on his upper lip before taking the cup from you.

Narrowing your eyes with wisdom beyond your years, you informed him, “They always do,” and placed the other tea on the end table between the recliner and couch for Robin’s mom to take whenever she wasn’t piecing together the answer for Wheel of Fortune and whispering it into the TV remote clutched to her face.

You took the phone from him and held it to your ear. “Yellow?”

There was a horribly sad sound on the other end.

“Hey! Hi! I, uhm, hey, it’s Eddie, I’m sorry for calling you, if that’s weird, but I’m–I’m going through a lot here”, he ended in a humorless laugh. “I-I-Adrie–So, look–Adrie, it’s okay, I’m fixing it–Adrie was on a playdate, and I don’t know, I think she got into a fight with her friend or something, and broke the toy they were playing with because she didn’t want to share, so she had to come home early, and now she’s upset because the playdate’s over, and the other girl’s toy broke, and–I already said that–but Steve and Nancy are going out of town, and I can’t find a babysitter last minute that will take her to their place, and Wayne’s out playing poker with his friends, and God, I–” He shifted, and you could tell by the fading whimpers that he moved down the hallway, and by the clack on the phone, it was his fingernails dragging along it as he scrubbed his hand over his face, desperate for someone else to come up with a solution. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m asking of you, but there’s going to be a bunch of guys drinking tonight, and I don’t want Adrie to be around that shit–”

“Eddie?” You didn’t mean to cut him off, but his panic was overwhelming you, and it was easier to concentrate on the one idea your brain latched onto without his input.

“..This is my only night I get to hang out with everyone,” he admitted in a whisper so shy you struggled to hear it. “I’m worried about her distracting me.”

You stared at the linen closet in the hallway to Robin’s bedroom. “I’ve got an idea, okay? Just hold on. I’ll be there in thirty.. maybe forty minutes. That okay?”

More movement sounded from the other end. You thought it was him hanging up without saying goodbye, but then you heard the sweetest thing.

“Miss Mouse is coming over,” he reassured Adrie, and the relief in his voice affected you in the worst way. Making you go all mushy when little Adrie’s hiccupy confirmation came from the depths of her face pressed to the base of his neck.

“M—ouse?”

“Mhmm.”

His hum filled your chest. Her noise of appreciation erupted goosebumps along your forearms. You were wanted–requested–and the square beads digging into your wrist had never felt closer to his, across town.

You addressed Eddie, “I’ve got a plan. Okay? I’ll be over soon.”

“Thank you,” he spoke into the receiver as you hung up.

The phone suspended on the hook in a weighty click. It bounced as you let it go, coil slipping from the table and falling to the floor. You asked your audience of two, “Is it okay if I leave early?”

“Of course you can, dear,” Robin’s dad answered, hoarse from the constant flow of oxygen drying out his throat.

“And can I borrow some of Bobbie’s old bedsheets?”

Her mom made a confused face, but agreed, “Whatever you want, sweet bean.”

–And thus, you had the catalyst for the second time you arrived on Edward Munson’s doorstep with your arms loaded with goodies–

He threw open the door with a dozen apologies stacked behind his teeth. “Hey. I’m sorry for calling you like that, she–”

The she in question came barreling out from behind him.

You dropped your knees to accept Adrienne. Discarding your overstuffed tote bag to hug her wholly; taking her into your arms, and consoling her with all the right words you prepared on your way over. “Hey, I heard you were having a rough day,” you said while tucking her into you tight. “You don’t have to be sad anymore. I’m here.”

Her cheeks had long since dried, but the whiny pitch to her voice teetered on the cusp of a sniffly cry Eddie had only eliminated minutes ago, after his speech about sharing. She mumbled against your puffer jacket, “You came to play wi’h me?”

“I sure did. And you know what? I brought you a surprise.” You flicked your gaze to Eddie to gauge his reaction, and your breath hitched at the beauty of his relief. Standing tall in the doorway over you and his daughter, taking a moment of peace with his eyes closed, mouth in a gentle line, and relaxation easing the near-permanent creases between his brows. The pleasure of a small break from parental duties affected him so physically, you could behold him for hours. Or tell him to go have a cigarette.

However, impatient as any four-year-old, Adrie wriggled in your arms for your attention, and asked what you brought.

Opening the tote, you took out patterned bedsheet after bedsheet. Stars, flowers, cowboys–as many as you could fit, and held them up. “Do you know what we’re gonna make with these?”

“A fort?” she asked, hopeful and bouncing with energy.

“A fort!” you repeated. “We’re gonna build a blanket fort! And I brought movies for you to–”

She grabbed the sheets and took off for her bedroom.

“Okie dokie.” You pushed yourself up from the concrete steps, and fanned out the rented VHSes like a deck of cards to show Eddie instead. “Sorry it took me so long, I stopped by Family Video on my way here. Has she seen these?”

He read the white clamshell packaging, and the dimple on his left cheek developed. “She has,” and before you could react, he pressed on with a reassurance, “but don’t underestimate how many times a kid can watch the same movie and never grow bored of it.”

“Good to know!”

Like that; intuitive, second nature; Eddie knew when he gave you news that could be disappointing, he chased it with a thoughtful remark, validating your considerate gesture.

You slipped them back into the bag, and shouldered it. “I was thinking we could move the TV and VCR in her room, and build a fort around it with a pile of blankets on the floor for her to sleep on like she’s camping. Super cozy. Maybe some string lights if you have some from Christmas?”

“That..” The subtle arch in his eyebrows climbed higher as his eyes drifted closed in true appreciation. “That sounds like a perfect plan.” And his face went apologetic again. “And yeah, thank you for coming early. I was trying to send Adrie on a playdate so she’d come home tired and want to sleep while we’re playing, but, yeah, that went to shit, and then I tried calling her usual babysitters, but they couldn’t watch her at their places, and my uncle’s gone until the morning, and Steve and Nancy are–”

Interrupting him, you stepped into the doorway, and he moved to accommodate you. “Next time,” you said, cupping his upper arm, “just call me first.”

You squeezed and trailed your fingers down his sleeve as you let the moment mature in traces of your fingertips brushing over the thick poly-cotton of his sun-bleached black hoodie missing its drawstring. He prized the moment by memorizing the angel the universe blessed him with; and you were rooted by his gaze, driven to wonder about the ardency which he watched the minute press of your lips when you swallowed, and the coincidence of his own lips twitching into a jumpy smile.

“Let me show you Adrie’s room.”

His home was much the same as when you left it. There was a pillow and blanket tossed on the corner of the couch, a Little Mermaid plate and fork dripping in the dish rack, an assortment of clean clothes piled into a laundry basket on top of the washing machine. Though, Adrie’s toys were put away and the bathroom sink was scrubbed clean of children’s bubble gum flavored toothpaste.

Eddie pushed open the door at the end of the hall, and for the first time, with the tail end of daylight piercing the burgundy curtained window, you saw beyond a few feet to the bed.

You wished you could say the precious girl in the middle of the room caught your eye, but realistically, your attention was drawn to the walls. Specifically, the amount of pink and white Barbie advertisements cut from magazines and special edition My Little Pony fold out posters lining every square inch of available space.

But the girly stuff ended at the height of the dresser beside you.

The bedroom was divided in half, horizontally. Above the mirror decorated in stickers and photos tucked into the frame, the ponies and rainbows ended there, obliterated by a sharp line of black. A RATT flag, Corroded Coffin banner, and printed images of paladins fought the encroaching Carebears and sweet things. Every heavy metal poster in existence overlapped the final push to the ceiling. You took it all in with an air of baffled amusement.

You waved a finger at the top half. “She uh.. a big Judas Priest fan?”

Eddie was already cutting his eyes to you with a sly smile, Adam’s apple bouncing with a mute giggle. “This used to be my room.”

“I figured as much.”

Mixed amongst the posters were guitars hung where only he could reach them, and there was an amp shoved beneath a white desk where his daughter was currently setting up her stuffed animals, picking up one to show you, then second guessing and putting it down.

Eddie vied for you before she could. “Wanna see somethin’?” he asked, walking around the queen sized bed to the closet. Accurately, you guessed he was going to show you a clue to his past, and stepped over the dragging corner of the blue and white comforter, shimmying past him to stand next to the small bookshelf, excitedly watching him reach into the dark abyss. From the top shelf he pulled a lump of jean fabric, and unfolded it, handing it to you. “I used to wear this every day in my youth.”

You pinched the article of clothing between the very tips of your fingers, and turned your head to cough. “Jesus, dude. How much did you used to smoke?”

“Way more than I do now,” he laughed.

After some heavy side-eyeing about his habits, you took a closer look at the garment. The blue plaid lined jean jacket had ratty edges everywhere it could have ratty edges; helped by its sleeves being ripped off, of course. A collection of pins and patches mirrored the ones on his (used to be) bedroom walls–before a princess ruled his kingdom, and fought back the dragons.

“You used to wear this everyday?” you voiced aloud, finding the sentimental value in touching something so dear to him, for him to hang onto it for all these years.

“Should I wear it tonight?” Taking it from you, he flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt, and slipped his arms through the vest, turning around to show you the Dio patch on the back, pointing to it with his thumbs.

You golf clapped. “Very cool. Very tough.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie faced you and tidied the stray waves of his hair flowing out from under the hood, raking his fingers through his bangs until they were perfectly messy, and again, it was one of those strange exchanges where your too honest gazes met, and he diverted his humble smile to the floor, shy and bashful, but not in pretend like before.

You were in his home, in his daughter’s bedroom, doing him a favor, which was feeling less and less like a favor, and more like a convenient excuse you both seized as an opportunity to hang out.

“Miss Mouse!” Adrie gunned for your hand, and embarked on her greatest effort to break you away from her father, tugging you towards her collection of plushes you still needed to be introduced to.

You gasped at the honor, and asked, “Do you want to tell me about them while I braid your hair?”

She lit up at the suggestion. Eddie wasn’t the best at weaving plaits, and she wasn’t the most patient, so having an unbiased party step in to determine whether it was a ‘him’ problem or a ‘her’ problem sounded grand.

And as you sank onto the edge of the mattress with her sitting criss-cross between your legs, it was obvious within the first few twists of the French braid sitting flat against her head, and curved perfectly over her ear, that it was most definitely a ‘him’ problem.

Behind you, there was a great sigh at your victory.

Adrie held up a brown teddy with one glass bead eye slightly larger than the other after surgery was performed on him to replace the one he lost, and said, “This is Mr. Bear.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Bear,” you said, using your best Children’s Television Program presenter voice to entertain her. You threw a smile over your shoulder at the silliness, and Eddie was already looking at you, warm brown eyes shining with the same fondness as yours.

“And he’s married to Mrs. Froggy.”

“Wow, a bear and a frog.” You nodded, impressed. “I guess true love knows no bounds.”

Feeling like the third wheel to you and Adrie, Eddie moved into action. “I’m gonna go out to the shed and start bringing in extra chairs, and the Christmas lights you asked for. And, uh, here’s her hair stuff.” He handed you a basket filled to the brim with every style of ponytail holder a drug store could carry. “You two have fun.”

Naturally, as he stepped away to leave, you curled your fingers at him in a childish wave, while Adrie used Mrs. Frog’s hand to do the same, adding on a sing-songy “Bye!” to hers.

And what a delight it was to witness the beginnings of the red flush creeping up his neck as he took a final glance at you both smiling up at him, and he pinched the hood over his mouth to shield his crooked simpering from further inspection.

~~~

The gloaming sky dozed in a blanket of pink and purple clouds knitted together with ribbons of orange.

Eddie leaned in the doorway to the porch, resting his shoulders on the frame as he crossed his ankles. The backs of his hands stung from overwashing them during the dry season, but his palms were soothed by the piping hot bowl he cupped to his chest. His muscles ached from unrest, but he grew warmer with each bite of the cinnamon sugar toast he dipped into the peanut butter oatmeal. Maybe he wouldn’t have taken the time to wipe down the folding chairs from the shed, but when you asked if there were any spiders on them in that timid wobble of yours, he had no other choice. And he’d do it again, even if his body protested the entire ordeal.

Squinting into the beauty of the setting sun, he sighed. Adrienne squealed. You cheered her on.

The pain in his hands subsided, the clawing hunger in his stomach settled, and the soreness in his lower back relented. All his worries fell away when his girl was happy.

For Eddie, standing by as the outsider to the scene of you and his daughter bonding over the neon green bottle of sloshy bubbles, he was aware of the catch in your voice when you asked about the unicorn and learned of his name, Fluff. You released a tender ‘aw’ from the back of your throat, and oh, it fulfilled him in ways he couldn’t possibly articulate. A simple noise, and it felt like a hug from an old friend. A pinky promise. A rare complacency in his life. Ataraxia.

He sensed it more, and more. When you sprinted back and forth on the porch, blowing bubbles for her to pop before they landed on the ground; giggling, laughing. Giggling, laughing. And he was smiling, smiling. It was sweet, so sweet; this new loop he found himself in. Gone was the stress. You took care of it. You heard him say Adrie needed to be tired out before bed time, and here you were, standing at the edge of the creaky floorboards, blowing a slew of bubbles for her to chase in the deadened grass.

She complained, “I can’t–reach!” She jumped, and jumped, but the bubble caught the gust from her fingertips, and continued floating away.

“Use Fluff!”

Elated at the ingenuity, she snatched Fluff from where he posed at your feet, and she launched herself off the deck for the last bubble, popping it with the very tip of his white horn. “Yay!”

“Rad!”

He watched until your forms were bathed in dusky blue, and the cold swallowed your heaving breaths.

Licking clean the last spoonful of his late, late breakfast, he reminded you both, “You girls better get started on this fort before it gets too late. Still gotta set up for the game too.” After whispering a curse under your breath, you ushered Adrie inside, and he asked her, “Can you take this to the sink?” Remarkably, she took his bowl without complaint, but stood stock still until he forced out a pointed, “Thank you,” in a tone implying she should scram.

She snickered at getting a rise out of him, and jogged away.

He reached into his pocket for the object weighing down the front of his hoodie, and produced a tangerine. Juice squished from the top of the fruit where he stabbed his thumb into the rind, and the scent of fresh citrus filled the air. “The chairs are certified spider-free. Got them inspected by a professional and everything.”

Your glare was mellowed by sweetness. “My hero.”

“Daddy.” Adrie was back, and with one simple demand of her hand held out flat, he peeled faster, and dislodged two segments for her. She popped them in her mouth, and ran to her room.

Interesting..

Testing him, you held your hand out flat as well, and with a bored stare, he placed two segments in your palm too.

“Don’t worry, I won’t call you Daddy unless you want me to,” you said, tossing them in the air, and catching them in your mouth. And as the fruit popped between your teeth, and the cold juice gushed like ice over your tongue, your brain caught up to what you just implied, and you froze mid-chew.

Eddie’s expression morphed from slack-jawed surprise, to intrigue, to his lips clamped tight, body shaking with silent laughter. “What?” he squeaked out.

“Uhh–I mean–How about we forget I said that?” you offered, wagging your finger from him to you.

No way.

No way in hell was he about to let you live that one down.

He loved your blunder. Reveled in it, even. It was sweet, sweet revenge. Payback.

Eddie took you off guard by snatching your wrist. He drew you into him as he pushed off the doorframe, bringing you in real close, eliminating the gap between your bodies. His cheeks may have darkened, but it was his greatest pleasure to imbue all his wickedness into repeating the same word you used months ago when he was driving you to Adrie’s school play and he made a similar joke about your bike and riding a man to work.

His nose scrunched with wolfish satisfaction. “Never.”

“Don’t be mean,” you whined. Putting up a weak fight, you attempted to twist your hand from his grasp to–hopefully–bolt away, and bury yourself in a pile of bedsheets for the rest of eternity; just somewhere you could hide, and desperately avoid thinking about the delicious zing traveling to the worst places.

But he wouldn’t let go.

There was clear disdain in the way his posture stiffened the split-second anyone other than his daughter called him Daddy, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to introduce the context of calling him such a name, whether it would happen when you were under him, gasping it into his mouth; or in different position, with your knees on either side of his narrow hips, bouncing out the syllables..

His breathing deepened. You squirmed.

Caught in each other’s trap. Impossible to look away, the sweltering fantasy sat heavy in your mutual gaze, wide pupils boring into wide pupils. Heartbeats pounding beneath the surface of uncharted waters. An intimacy to his study of your body language, especially when you tilted your head to the side, and the lingering wryness in his eyes turned curious.

Illuminated by the glow of the bathroom light above the medicine cabinet, the face framing layers of Eddie’s haircut brushed his cheeks from beneath the hard shadows of his hood, and the fog from your exhales mixed in the inky darkness.

Alas, the standoff came to an abrupt end when Adrie called your name.

“I should help her with the fort,” you whispered in a release of tension.

One finger at a time, he opened his harmless grip. “I’m gonna bring your bike up here in case the weather turns,” he said, voice the same as always when he had you this near; quiet, tame, cutting in and out in the vowels.

“What a gentleman.”

Definitely a gentleman when he bit into the tangerine as if it were an apple to distract you from his hand tugging down his hoodie to hide the hard outline stretching towards the thigh of his light wash blue jeans.

You sneered at the fleshy strings of fruit pulp gathering over his lower lip. “And by gentleman, I mean utter weirdo.”

~~~

By winter’s solid nightfall, most of the fort had been completed. Eddie visited the room to drop off the TV (after it had been cleaned of staticy dust clinging to the glass), and placed it and the VCR on top of a Coca-Cola crate at the foot-end of the blanket nest you created. At one point he grabbed his acoustic guitar from the wall, and brought more clothes pins.

You pinned the last corner of the sheet canopy above Adrie while she pulled her tea party table inside the fort, and set up her toys in the itty bitty pink chairs. She volunteered to string the twinkly lights herself, giving you an excuse to go to the kitchen where you could make the highest quality finger sandwiches as dinner for her and her cotton-stuffed guests. And by total coincidence, Eddie was beside you, hunched over the counter with a DND book opened to a page of illustrations with a blank character sheet to his right.

“Ham, mayo, cheese, and the thinnest layer of mustard,” he told you.

You organized the ingredients to Adrie’s sandwich and confirmed, “A hint of mustard. Got it.” Taking two slices of sandwich bread, you placed them on her Beauty and the Beat plate, and dipped a butter knife into the mayo jar, slathering a generous amount on one side. One the other, you merely suggested mustard had been in the presence of it with a single swipe.

He angled the book to you. “Which race and class do you want to play as?”

Looking over the pictures, there were more to choose from than you initially assumed, but there was a clear winner towering above the rest. “That one. The big green guy.” Apparently he was called a half-orc, and he was stacked with muscle on top of muscle. “I wanna be huge and brawny like him, crushin’ my enemies with my giant biceps. Like, everyone’s scared of me, but I save kittens on the weekends. Fighter type, or whatever’s the term. Melee? I wanna beat people up with my bare fists.”

Eddie glanced you up and down. “Overcompensating for something?”

Deflating, your puffer jacket swished fabric-on-fabric as you dropped your arms. You pouted, but the tug at his heartstrings went ignored as he rolled a large dice, and picked up the pencil.

So be it. It was your turn to sum him up in one glance. How his shaggy outdated haircut gathered on his shoulders, curtaining his face as he underlined words on the character sheet, not even paying you attention. How his jean vest paraded his music tastes under years of dust and a decade of smoke baked into it; offensive and meant to ward off others, unless they belonged. How he decorated his skin in macabre imagery, and wore his white tennis shoes with just enough dirt to show he didn’t care. How every denim item he owned came with holes. How his keys dangled from a keyring attached to his belt loop, so everyone was forced to listen to him expressing his apathy towards the world with each stomp, and rattle of chains swinging against his leg. How he bent over the counter with his hip cocked out, making his pants crease to his inner thighs, highlighting a particular package beneath a handcuff belt buckle. How he was decked out in his usual skull themed rings. Prickly, jaded, drives too fast, and has never heard of an ‘inside voice’ once he deemed you worthy of his boisterous ramblings. Loud, obnoxious, excessively weird when he was himself around you.

You asked, “Are you overcompensating for something?”

“I don’t need to.”

Cool, smooth, nonchalant.

I don’t need to.

Warmth flooded your abdomen. Heat reached your cheeks. Blood rushed, descended to the place your thighs clenched, where your jean’s stiff metal zipper went tight–and if you stood a certain way–the seam grazed over.

Rolling the dice again, his expression remained impassive as he filled in more blank spots, asking you in a monotone voice, “What’s your orc’s name?”

“Gary,” you answered in a bout of exasperation, annoyed he’s acting like he didn’t just say that.

There was no way you were about to be the one squirming again. After his teasing earlier, he deserved a dose of his own medicine.

Feeling undue bravery, you set the butter knife down, and rested your elbow on the counter, angling your body towards him with your hands linked over your stomach, wearing an adorably smug pinch of confusion between your brows. You were the example of casual when you asked, “Do orcs fight with a dagger? Maybe six and a half.. seven inches in length? Curved to the right? Real girthy handle?”

Eddie’s face lurched into wide-eyed awe at your bombshell of an innuendo. He turned his head slowly, frizzy curls sticking to his just-licked lips, fluttering in front of his gawking smile as he exhaled a stunned huff. His big brown eyes were alert with the thrill of the subject, and he stared, waiting for you to fold. You didn’t blink, acting classes coming in handy as his eyebrows climbed higher and higher, and you remained stoic, free of emotion.

A choked out– “I..” –came from his mouth, but he didn’t finish. He hooked his finger around a lock of hair, and twisted it, yanking more over the lower half of his face as he shrank into the comfort of his hoodie, leaving just his eyes visible.

At last, he answered, voice wavering high and tight, “A little over seven, I think.”

You lifted your chin, and rolled your lips inward, steeling yourself from voicing anything other than an impressed hum.

However..

Having a knack for bad decisions, you drew in a breath to speak–but Adrie came to your rescue before you humiliated yourself by saying something abhorrent like, ‘my, my, that’s quite a size,’ or ‘I heard that orc’s been single a while; what’s his skill level with that weapon?’ or worse, ‘need a second opinion on that length?’

“Are you almost done?”Adrie asked.

She sought the answer by snaking her hands under your jacket and clinging onto the back of your hips, making you jolt at her cold fingers creeping over your skin, and you stumbled after she trusted you to support her weight while she jumped onto her tippy toes.

You lost your balance, and your hero from further harm was Eddie.

Well, less of a hero, and more like he stood with his arms pinned to his sides, and took the brunt of your fall.

He released a painful wheeze from being wedged into the corner where the sharp edges of the countertop dug into his bones.

“Sorry,” you think you whispered, but maybe it never left your lungs.

You watched the subtle tic under his eyes when he said, “S’okay,” and the ‘s’ whistled sharply between his teeth.

It was amazing–incredible–to discover he had freckles sprinkled across the top of his cheekbones, standing out against the telltale shade of embarrassment. You’d never been this close to notice them before; near enough your nose tickled from the end of his hair. Never had the opportunity to catch yourself on his bicep, and feel the extraordinary body heat radiating off him, dialed on high from the last few minutes. And now you had to continue living as if you didn’t know his dick size.

Adrie brought you back to reality. “Can you cut off the top crust? It’s shaped like a butt, and I don’t like it.”

Letting go of Eddie, you reached for her, patting her shoulder for her back up and release you from this awkward prison. “Y-Yeah, of course. No top crust. Got it, little lady.”

She giggled and kept talking as you put an ample gap between you and her dad. Thank God she giggled and kept talking as you and Eddie regained some semblance of composure.

“Can you cut it in long squares?”

��Rectangles,” Eddie corrected gently.

“Reck-tangles,” she pronounced.

“Perfect.” He grabbed his pencil and dice, and picked up where he left off on your character sheet. And you were more than happy to play along, peeling the Kraft Single from its plastic film and placing it on top of two slices of ham before cutting it into long squares.

~~~

With her sandwich made, you and Adrie sat at the tiny pink table under the fort. Your neck ached from the constant hunched position, and your legs were falling asleep, but you’d deal with the pain if it meant having tea with the princess.

She tipped air from an empty tea pot into the tea cups, and Mr. Bear thanked her for his imaginary portion.

Throughout the play-dinner, Eddie was in and out of the room. There were noises from the closet, sounding like he was picking up shoeboxes filled with rattling items. The canopy drooped when he opened the top drawer on the dresser where it was tied. Musical notes from a wind instrument trilled from the living room.

After another bite of her sandwich–Oh, no, Princess Adrienne, I’m much too full, you may have mine–a ne’erdowell crashed your exclusive party.

“Hey, this is pretty,” Eddie said, poking his head inside; his grin lengthening into a frightful shadow from the Christmas lights stuck in his hair. He looked around at the hard work his little girl put into the fort, linking the bedsheets from his old desk, across the back of a chair, and held aloft by the dresser. The TV occupied the space one of his amps used to, and the nest of blankets covered what used to be a network of cords, albums, and magazines. But that was years ago. Now, his gaze settled on the adult woman feigning a long sip on her toddler-sized tea cup, and a hand smashed against his face–

Adrie shoved him out of the fort, and whipped closed the entryway bedsheet. “No boys allowed!”

“But.. I need to borrow Miss Mouse,” he begged in a pitiful quaver.

She cut her eyes to you, and rolled them into the next eternity (a move you’d become an expert in yourself.) You bargained with her in a haughty shrug, and after a moment of consideration, she drew back the curtain. “Fine.”

Making an unglamorous exit by crawling on your hands and knees, you accepted Eddie’s warm palm to help you stand. “What’cha need help with?”

“The folding table is behind the couch, and it’s annoying to pull out by myself with all the mugs in the way,” he explained on his way to the living room. “Oh, can you move that stuff off it? Yeah, just toss it in a corner.”

He used his shin to push the coffee table against the wall while you picked up the pillow and stack of blankets off the corner of the couch. But after collecting them to your chest, and the thinning pillow released a puff of air from its wilted self, you were struck with an array of scents. Hair products, cigarette smoke, vanilla, sour sweat; notes of exhaust, motor oil, and fumes.

It smelled bad in the good way.

The mix stung your nostrils, twinged at your eyes. But it was a comfort you hugged tighter. Familiarity you inhaled deeper. Home in your lungs.

You took his pillow, and Adrie’s kaleidoscope quilt with the tattered facing, and went to place them on the fold-out bed in the corner, assuming it was his; but as you neared, you scrutinized the collection of items on the oak nightstand beside it. A brand of cigarettes he didn’t smoke, a BIC lighter he didn’t use, a comb, and a clunky silver watch. And as you thought about it more, you saw the fold-out bed already had a set of sheets and a pillow balanced on top of it.

“Eddie, where do you sleep?”

There was much care put into your question, but the uneasy way it probed into his private life was evident in his change in demeanor.

He was slow to stand up from adjusting a side table out of the way, never quite unslouching the weight from his shoulders when he pushed his hood back to run a hand over his hair. The cuckoo clock on the wall ticked by as you watched him scratch his fingernails in tight circles on his scalp, roughing up his hair, never quite focusing his gaze on anything.

“Well,” he mumbled, gesturing at the lumpy couch cushions. “Here.”

Despite figuring as much, he never stated it bluntly, and to know another hardship of his reality squeezed your heart with sympathy.

He must’ve read the emotion on your face as pity, because his tone reflected an edge of annoyance; a deep-seated stress sneaking out when he spoke to those who didn’t get it. “Most of my paycheck goes to Adrie’s daycare. That shits expensive, and as much as I don’t want her growing up right in front of me, things will get better when she finally starts real school. I won’t be paying for that anymore, and I can start saving up, and maybe, y’know, start making some changes around here.” He spoke with his hands in a sad sort of shrug, waving at the trailer, though his gaze was cast down, and away from you. “But this is how it is, okay? I can’t do anything to fix it.” There was a haunting sort of pessimism that came from living in poverty. As much as he made statements about changing his life when he had more money, there was still the pile of bills in the kitchen, the numerous things in need of fixing around the house, Wayne’s truck on its last leg, and the fear of a random doctor visit wiping out his bank account. All of that resided in his tone.

You gripped his pillow harder, not sure what to say other than a hushed, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

At that, he shook himself out of ruminating on his situation, and saw you were awkwardly twisting the pillowcase around your fingers, staring at the floor. He realized he messed up.

Every bit of him went soft for you. “Wait, wait, wait,” he soothed, striding three steps to you and cupping his palms around your upper arms. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. Not to you. Not when you’ve been the sweetest–seriously, the sweetest, and most generous person to me and Adrie. It–It, yeah, it hits a sore spot, talking about shit like having to sleep on the couch, but I didn’t mean to speak to you that way.” He finished with a final, sweet, but quick, and enunciated assurance, “I’m sorry.”

Overwhelmed by the whiplash in his change of attitude, followed by his sincere apology, you stammered, “Oh, uh, it’s okay. I understand why you reacted the way you did. It’s cool.”

At an impasse, you looked up at him. He stroked his thumbs over the cool outer layer of your jacket. Swish, swish, swish.

More, deeper. Swish, swish, swish.

You understood.

This was our first fight as whatever-we-are, and I’m showing you I can apologize instead of brushing it off and forgetting about it like I used to.

It was the mildest spat, yet it was a milestone for him.

“Seriously, we’re good,” you said, crushing the pillow to your chest.

Shifting the subject, he lightened the mood. “Also, did I mention how much I appreciate you coming over early, and playing with Adrie? The whole fort thing, going out of your way to get her movies, ‘nd making her run around like a maniac? Genius.”

“Yeah, yeah, put it on that ‘thank you’ tab you owe me,” you teased him, pulling away to set his bedding on top of his uncle’s.

“Soon!” he promised. He tapped at the side of his head. “Got some ideas brewing in here.”

“Not sure if I should be excited, or scared.”

Ah, his two-front-teeth-showing grin. Your favorite.

He laughed, and with your help, the couch was scooted away from the wall enough for the wood laminate fold-out table to be wiggled out from behind it at an angle which avoided knocking the mugs hanging from the shelf above it. You draped a tablecloth over it in a flourish. Eddie pressed the wrinkles out of the grid pattern, and began placing miniature standees from the shoeboxes onto the squares; parts of a village, cobblestone fences, and characters to fill out the town. When he didn’t need you anymore, you went to check on Adrie, and the moment you crawled inside the fort and she showed you the pajamas Eddie picked out for her earlier, there was a series of car honks outside.

Showtime.

“You ready, Miss Adrie?”

“Mhm!”

Tires crunched rocks in the makeshift driveway. Engines died. Noises, greetings, Eddie’s happiness grew louder, and louder. A group sounded off. Several sets of shoes scraped the cement steps, and in the amalgamation of voices was one above the rest, “Hey, looking good, man. Haven’t seen you since you almost killed my elven ranger before Christmas.”

You crawled backwards out of the fort, and caught Adrie’s hand before she ran out of the room.

From the living room, Eddie sucked his teeth, and dismissed his friend. “You had it coming all night with the way you were walking around not checking for traps.”

“It was one time! And besides–” The argument stopped. His blue eyes went wide with shock, outstretched arms drooping as he focused on something behind Eddie. He lowered the two six packs he was carrying. “A girl!”

Being led by an excited almost-five-year-old, you bolted around the kitchen counter, and raised your eyebrows at the blunt acknowledgement of your existence. You looked at Eddie, whose entire being depleted with a sigh.

With his head hung, he swept his arm towards you. “This is my friend from work. She’s playing with us tonight.” And under his breath, he muttered to the young man wearing a ballcap over his springy curls, “Be cool.”

He shoved a six pack at Eddie’s chest, and pursued you with his hand held out. “I’m Dustin! Eddie’s friend from high school, and previous Hellfire member,” he said, displaying a mouthful of adult braces.

“Dustin, it’s nice to meet you!”

Repeating people’s names back to them was a helpful memorization tool, but as your gaze shifted, the nerves of making a good first impression on Eddie’s friends sat heavy in your stomach.

The other guys on the stairs came up behind Dustin. In a rush, you were introducing yourself to the beginnings of a crowd stomping through the living room. Exchanging names and smiles and handshakes, you gripped Adrie’s tiny hand for support and said, “I’m the receptionist at the auto shop, that’s how I know Eddie.”

The one who approached you last–Gareth, drummer for Corroded Coffin–snapped his fingers, and exclaimed, “Oh! You’re the receptionist.”

“Alright, alright,” Eddie interjected, body and voice between you two. “Beer goes in the kitchen, and I’ll order pizza in a minute.”

He passed off the six pack to someone else.

Gareth reached into his leather jacket with a wicked, lopsided grin. “I brought something a little stronger than beer.” Though most of your vision was taken up by the back of Eddie’s shoulder, you caught a flash of amber liquid in a clear bottle, and a black label.

Kneeling beside you, Jeff–guitarist for Corroded Coffin–tilted his head down so Adrie could touch the wooden beads at the end of his short braids, and said to Eddie, “You know, since we’re havin’ it at your place again, why not make it memorable? Or not memorable,” he joked. “Maybe a sip for every roll under 13.”

Eddie gave him the Dad stare. “You’re gonna be shitfaced–Adrie, you didn’t hear that–by the time this is over, and I’m not organizing rides for all of you.”

“I’m driving tonight.” Lloyd–bassist for Corroded Coffin–jangled his car keys.

“And so am I,” a girl’s voice came from beyond the entryway everyone was crowding. “Now can we come inside before we freeze to death, or do you really think you can take on another basilisk without my help?”

A round of laughter gave way to the next group entering.

SWISH, SWISH, SWISH.

The girl at the helm of the windbreaker brigade went to the kitchen to drop off the case of beer straining her arms. (It seemed that was the payment of choice to the host.)

Sensing you were lost to the sea of faces, Eddie laid a comforting hand between your shoulder blades, and drifted it downwards to the small of your back. “That’s Erica, Max, and Lucas,” he told you in your ear.

Max held on tight to Lucas’ arm, taking smaller steps into the mixture of orange and blue-white lamps flooding the room tight with bodies, and shapes she was unfamiliar with.

“Aw, don’t you two look cute,” Gareth goaded them in an overly saccharine way.

Max groaned, “I told him it was lame.”

Whereas she shrank into her black and neon pink jacket, Lucas scoffed, and fueled her disgusted tongue click. “Matching windbreakers should be the least of your worries. You’re playing Dungeons and Dragons. You can’t get any lamer than that.” To finish, he popped the collar of his in a suave swish, and guided her into the kitchen.

She made a gagging sound, and Erica made one too.

————

While waiting for the last guest to arrive, the front door remained open. The glow from inside etched the peeling paint on the stair’s ornate handrail in gold. Warm laughter rolled out like fog into the dry frigid night, where neighbors could hear it. See it. Feel the vibrations of Eddie Munson’s friendship, support, weirdness being celebrated. Witness the joy others could not steal from him. They could observe the vehicles parked out front, listen to the rapture of claps when Adrie performed a song and dance, and taste the bitterness in their mouths when Eddie “The Freak” Munson continuously found his gaze drifting to the girl beside him, who beamed at him openly.

————

Fashionably late, a loud car turned into the trailer park; the obnoxious kind, where the motor rumbled like a death rattle, but in a cool way, because it was made to sound like that on purpose.

Eddie looked over his shoulder, and raised his hand at Mike. “Hey, man,” he whispered, keeping their conversation separate while everyone else was exchanging stories.

“Did you wanna check out the engine?” Mike bounced his eyebrows, swinging the keys to his bright yellow muscle car. “I installed it a few weeks ago.”

It was a tempting offer. He wasn’t opposed to car talk, nor freezing his hands off to fawn over the modifications Mike made to his beloved 1979 Mustang while in the big city for school, and, of course, Eddie was going to give him his usual spiel about working for David when he came back to Hawkins. However, he didn’t want to abandon the newest member to their party.

“In a min,” Eddie said to Mike, motioning with his head to come inside.

Assuming he’d just tossed his girl to the wolves, Eddie zoned into the conversation again, and rubbed his hand along your back. His palm passed over the warm spot on your jacket where he was comforting you before, and he glanced around the circle of his friends–tightly knit, and grinning at you.

He assumed wrong.

You weren’t shy, or intimidated to be the new person in a group of people who’d known each other for decades, failing to be heard over their easy banter and inside jokes. No. They were hanging onto your every word.

The group had gone hushed, captivated by your life. You had a knack for turning the mundane into marvelous enthrallments of relatable spectacular. Every sentence was more entertaining than the last. The punch lines landed, and kept coming. You worked them like a crowd–and when someone else shared a similar anecdote, you were asking questions, getting them to open up, and take the stage. This was you. You were in your element. You didn’t need Eddie.

“Oh! That reminds me of this one lady when I was waitressing in Philly..”

“In New York we had these huge pigeons that would..”

“Back home, there was this place on the corner where..”

Eddie took his hand away. The insulated warmth dissipated from his palm as he let it hang at his side. Your rolodex of stories separated you from him.

“Dude, you wanna talk about bad dates? This one time..”

“And then there was this guy who..”

“–Worst kiss ever.”

Details were spared–maybe because both he and Adrie were there–but the story beats were like stabs to his stomach. Clenched, sinking hot with envy. It wasn’t like him. Not really. He didn’t think so, anyway. But maybe he was wrong.

Jealousy prickled under his skin at every mention of ‘home’ and ‘date.’ He didn’t appreciate the heat to his cheeks, nor the loneliness of his hand reaching out for Adrie, only for her to notice him with a sleepy blink while she clung to your hips, and it was your fingers rubbing her little shoulder.

Of course he knew the subject of your stories, of course he knew you’d been on hundreds of dates, of course he knew you lived a larger life than him, but he’d never had to listen to the yearn in your voice when you spoke about the things you missed. The city, the people, being on stage. Performing, collecting stories, having dinners at sit-down restaurants. These were eccentricities integral to your design, and Eddie Munson had no place among them.

“Hey, Wheeler?” The lump in Eddie’s throat grew. Even Mike was transfixed on listening to you, forgetting about the keys in his hand. Leaning closer, he tapped on his friend’s teal raincoat to get his attention. “Mike? You wanted to show me your–?”

“Right!” Mike whipped his head around, sending his shaggy haircut bouncing in freshly styled waves. “Yeah, so I started with..” he trailed off, walking down the stairs, and out to the yard.

Before Eddie followed, he surveyed the group; Gareth was snickering his way through a story, while the rest of you went nauseous at his description of getting eighteen stitches, and replicating the sound of the needle popping through his skin.

“Babe?” he whispered under the group’s grossed out gasps, speaking the endearment for you only. Taking control, in a way, of his shame by reminding himself he could call you by a sweet nickname, and you’d answer.

You divided your attention, tipping your ear to him, and tearing your gaze from Gareth’s bizarre reenactment of how he fractured his tibia, and settling your eyes on Eddie’s Cupid’s bow when he made a request, “I’m gonna talk shop with Mike. Can you take over here? Get people settled, and Adrie in bed?”

“Of course, handsome.”

For couples, this is where he would duck to give you a kiss on the forehead, or bring you to his side for a hug and be on his way, and perhaps you gleaned those tentative actions when he hesitated on the lean-in, and sat in the subsequent awkwardness of playing it off as a friendly pat on your back when he realized, yeah, he’d never hugged you before.

You diffused the tension by laughing at him. Great.

As he rolled his eyes, you stopped him from leaving, and stepped away from the group.

“Where should we put our jackets?” you asked, pinching the zipper of yours.

Eddie paused in the middle of his gangly stride, and glanced at the two available hooks beside his leather jacket. It hadn’t started snowing or sleeting yet, so everyone’s coats would be dry. “Couch is fine.”

You said, “Cool,” and plunged your hand. In the blink of an eye, you had unzipped your jacket, and thrown your arms back, wiggling it down your shoulders and tugging it off by the cuffs. Underneath your jacket was a tight white tank top and unbuttoned flannel. A nice, fitted, ribbed shirt. Lower cut than anything you had worn at the auto shop, and clinging to your chest as you arched your back and shimmied out of your outer layer.

His gaze stalled.

You didn’t comment on it. He didn’t say anything, either, when his focus snapped to your face, and he read your sly smirk. Adrie, however, grew restless.

“I’m sleepy,” she whined.

“Okay, sweet bean,” you said, besotted by how little her hand was in yours. “C’mon, we can pick out the first movie to play in the fort, too.”

Eddie, thankful to have a distraction, and even more thankful you didn’t call out his obvious ogling, sank to his knees to give his little girl a goodnight hug and kiss. Part of him missed not being able to sit on the couch with her falling asleep on his chest, but the twelve peppered kisses to her cheek would have to suffice. He trusted you to take over the last few steps of Adrie’s night routine without his supervision, and sat back on his calves–after doting over her one last time by straightening out the long sleeves on her pajamas, and twirling the end of her braid around his finger.

“Night,” he kissed against her forehead.

“Night, Daddy,” she kissed back.

Kneeling on the carpet for a moment longer, he ran his tongue along the sharp edge of his teeth at watching you walk away with her. He was hidden amongst the throng of legs, and deep conversation. Invisible for now.

Drop, by drop, his chest filled with tender emotions. A coffee pot of feelings he swore to suppress poured into his heart; brimming the edge, overflowing, bringing heat to those neglected hopes, longings, and desires. Minutes ago you spoke of home, and he was aware he was not owed the promise of you changing the location of home to within biking distance, but he could hope, because every second you spent with him and his daughter was another coin in the wishing well, sploshing the coffee over.

Soon, the overflow would trickle to his lungs. It would fill them up. It would reach his throat. It would coat his tongue, wet his mouth, and before he knew it, those confessions would be spilling into words for you to cup to your mouth and drink until you were as full as he was.

Or, he could suppress them tonight with alcohol. Just enough to dull the urge, but still act as Dungeon Master.

Or, the whiskey could loosen his tongue, and risky sentiments could flood over, one steady drop at a time.

Either way, he was drowning.

~~~

Diving into the true purpose of the evening, the party split between the kitchen and the table in the living room. Jeff went out to Lloyd’s truck, and brought in a long black case. Snapping the latches open, he took out an electric keyboard, and began setting it up in his lap while Gareth rapped his drumsticks on his thighs in a slow rhythm. In the bedroom, you fluffed up the blankets for Adrie to lay on, tucked the comforter to her chin, and brushed her bangs off her forehead while the blue flash of the Disney castle logo played across her heavy eyelids. Idling around the variety of beers on the kitchen counter, Max gripped one of the silver and red cans, and spun it around its plastic ring holder, straining to discern the label.

You came up behind her to let her know, “That one’s Bud Light.”

“Ew,” she frowned, “who would bring that?” She opted for the can of Pabst instead.

“Some people have no tastes.”

On cue, Dustin wove his way through Lucas’ and Erica’s argument over which Mortal Kombat character was the best, adding a quick, “Liu Kang, obviously,” and snapped a silver can from the ring pack. He looked from you to Max. “What?”

Shifting from the secret giggles rising in your chests, she shrugged. “Nothing!”

He squinted at her, not buying it. Cracking the tab, he took a sip, and then you became the subject of interest. “So,” he started, “how long have you and Eddie been friends?”

Perplexion drew Max’s eyebrows together.

Aware of where this was going, you got your own beer, and carried an airy, casual tone while popping the cap, “Oh, just a few months, since I moved here with my roommate–Robin, if you know her.” His expression answered for you, arching in an ‘ah!’ of understanding.

Max, though, was stuck on another detail. “Wait, you and Eddie aren’t dating? I thought–I figured since he’s never invited anyone here before, and his daughter was, like, holding onto you?”

“Yeah, Adrie’s pretty fond of me, I think,” you answered, hiding your own secret behind the glass bottle to your lips. “And Eddie’s cool, too, I guess.”

“Well, I don’t know about him being cool, per se–” she was cut off.

Blurs of black and teal tumbled in rivers of frosted breath, and clattering teeth. Mike shivered life into his limbs on his way to the sink to run his hands under hot water. Eddie’s cheeks and nose were tinted frosty red as he wiped the dirt from his numb fingers onto his hoodie, and pulled his wallet from the junk drawer to check it for cash.

His brown eyes zeroed on you first, Dustin’s wiry mug second, and Max’s tilted lips third.

As he picked up the phone to dial for pizza delivery with his grease-scraped knuckle, he warned in a playful inflection, “You better not be telling her embarrassing stories about me.”

“Oh, no!” Max promised him. “I didn’t even tell her about how I used to live across from you, and caught you–on numerous occasions–sweeping the porch while blasting ABBA, and screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs. While drunk.” She didn’t need to see him from across the kitchen to feel the heat of his glare, and duel it with another cool shrug, defeating him with ease when the pizza place picked up, and he had to stumble over his order.

Once the hurdle of dinner was out of the way, the drinks of choice sweated under the cozy temperature of ten bodies packed like sardines at the table, and with Eddie at the helm of it all, the game commenced.

He set forth a toast. Affection swelled in his even gaze sweeping over his friends who had come to join him in his home, acknowledging the growth behind his ordinary request. He couldn’t speak it without a nervous tremble, no, but they understood. They understood. With pride, his eyelashes twinkled at the outer corners where mirth gathered, and his broad grin creased a slew of Crow’s feet into cascading to his smile lines with his dimple nestled between them. His silent gratitude thanked the room, and when he reached Jeff at his right hand side, Eddie flicked his eyes to the opposite end of the table, and brought the whiskey to his lips.

The room refracted beautifully in the carved edges of the smokey gray tumbler. It was silly, almost, how the squat glass vanished behind his large palm and thick fingers. Sillier, even, when you noticed these things and your heart pumped a little faster.

Sat at the far end across from him, you raised your beer, and sipped.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages,” he spoke in increasing speed and passion, descending into a lower octave as he stood and loomed over his dividers of books, binders, and folders acting as a shield to his Dungeon Master antics, “I present to you, the port town of Irrilis!”

He bowed, and swept his arms over the miniature display.

Sitting back, he guided everyone into the scene. Between describing the smell of the briny sea, the itch of stale sweat mixed with dried blood on their bodies, and the creak of wooden planks under their feet, he expertly wove lore into details of the town, comparing the afternoon sun on the backs of their necks to the stares they were getting. The townsfolk were not expecting newcomers this evening, apparently; and to finish the introduction, he cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed the caw of seagulls perched atop a gnarled bulletin board. When it became clear the fishermen were not interested in speaking to Lloyd’s tiefling, he asked if there was a guard nearby instead. Instantly, Eddie became one. He donned a constant salute, and rigid posture with a nasty curl on his lip, speaking in stunted sentences with a broadened chest.

Watching him perform was mesmerizing.

Your vision narrowed as if you were going lightheaded, highlighting Eddie at the center with sharpened colors. His broad movements coaxed you in, his ability to switch both his pitch and accent raced in your ears, his creature cadence hummed nostalgia along the back of your mind like an old memory of observing another actor on stage mastering their craft. Time forgot to start. He stole a glance in your direction and you were washed in humility. He was gauging your reaction to his geekiness, and whatever he saw, whatever was written in your expression, rewarded his vulnerability. Confidence set his face aglow; power in the way he beheld you. And you praised him by sitting forward, affixing him with all your adoration, considering yourself fortunate to be in his presence.

After all, you’d been enchanted by Eddie Munson since the first day he stomped past your desk with a fierce scowl aimed at the ground, and now? Now he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

~~~

As with most DND adventures, the fun began at a tavern.

The group had spent too much time with Eddie as their DM, they knew the bulletin board was a red herring, so they explored the city until they found the seediest bar tucked into the end of an alleyway.

You were reading over the details Eddie wrote for you on your character sheet when you were snatched to the present by an array of sounds.

Eddie strummed down on his acoustic guitar, and silenced the vibration with his palm. He then plucked a slow, seeking, progression, circling back until Jeff harmonized on his keyboard, and they nodded their heads in sync while Gareth found the tavern’s beat with the ends of his drumsticks on the edge of the table. Lloyd angled his chair to put his guitar in his lap, and chased the melody quietly under Eddie’s, at a slower tempo.

To be captivated by someone, wholly immersed in their quirks and nature, is to cherish them, and as you played audience to your friend’s natural charisma and ability to impress you in new ways after months of knowing him, your chest panged with the ache to cherish him completely.

You were one beer deep on an empty stomach, and you were already intoxicated by him.

Their song continued as he laid out the exposition of the tavern, and as a party, everyone sat at the bar, or snuck around invisible to glean information. And that’s where you came in–

Jeff changed his tune to have a mysterious dissonance.

Erica’s rogue sidled in beside you at a table, and smoothly asked you a variety of questions: how long you’d been in town, if you knew of the disappearances, or had any encounters with the rumor of the undead lurking outside the kingdom.

You… You looked at your orc’s low intelligence on the paper, and seeing as how you were an improv artist, you roleplayed.

Inhaling a mighty breath, you filled out your not-so-intimidating frame with imaginary muscle, and shot out your hand. “I’m Gary!” you exclaimed, rough and tough.

The guitars stopped on a screech.

Pause.

Eddie covered his mouth. His eyebrows peaked sentimentally. And once his shoulders shook, and his snort squeaked out like a dying sprinkler, everyone laughed. In your periphery, they each reacted differently–all having their unique outbursts at your blunt introduction. Erica, too, giggled as she shook your hand. They were laughing with you. Definitely with you when Jeff chose a sillier ditty to play, and the guys matched him, upbeat and excited for you to wholeheartedly participate in their game.

Soon, your orc joined their party, and a series of clues earned from armwrestling other bar patrons led you down several paths to take, and after finding a lost tome near an underground jail cell (thanks to Dustin’s constant perception checks), your group was led outside, past Irrilis’ stone walls, and to their dying crops.

Mike scooped a collection of dice into his hand after, somehow, engaging in combat with a scarecrow, and began shaking them.

There was a bang at the door.

Mike jumped, uncupping his palms mid-shake, and the dice went flying. He caught three–snatched them right out of the air–and before they ricocheted off his fingers to add to the clatter on the table, he began to juggle them. One, two, three, four perfect rotations, and he set them down.

Eddie hadn’t yet stood up from his chair when his gaze wandered to yours, and he cut you a cheeky, significant grin. You shot him an exaggerated sneer in return. Stupid juggling.

He managed to not trip over the scattered mix of boots and tennis shoes mingling around the entrance, and balanced the exchange of cash for a stack of white cardboard boxes his eyes and handsome nose peeked over on his way to sliding them onto the kitchen counter.

“Orders up, boys.”

As grease soaked into paper plates, and another round of drinks were poured by Gareth’s heavy hand, you were all ushered into the next leg of the game.

Jeff played low notes as background mood music for your party when you came upon your next encounter: ghouls. They were low level, easy to defeat even if there were many, but it was an opportunity for Erica to teach you the different dice. Max leaned over, and helped you keep track of your abilities, and if you could execute them from where you stood on the grid.

When it was Max’s turn to roll for attack and damage in the rotation, she did so in a shallow wooden tray between her and Lucas. The dice tumbled around, pinged the sides, and came to a stop where Lucas could read the numbers, and do the math.

Least to say, she decimated her target.

Erica’s rogue on the other hand rolled a number Eddie was ambivalent towards.

“Convince me you can sneak up on him,” he proposed, squinting over his steepled fingers, and leaning back in his chair. They seemed to butt heads a lot, if her eye roll was anything to go off of.

She stood up from the table, and snapped her fingers at Mike to act as her overly large zombie. “C’mon.”

He groaned, “Not again,” but did as he was told, standing not unlike a limp noodle with a flat stare into the distance as she listed off her character’s skills for Eddie, and hooked her arm around Mike’s throat, bending him backwards over her pencil (pretend knife) to his back. She even shuffled him to where Eddie could acknowledge the poison on the tip of her blade would enter his kidney. He argued the undead did not have functioning kidneys, but conceded her efforts.

It was your turn next, but as you were mulling over the ghouls on the grid in front of your figurine, the rest of the table went silent.

The bedroom door creaked open, and soft footsteps padded out onto the kitchen vinyl. Eddie jerked his head up from behind the dividers. Gareth scooted his chair in, assuming Adrie was going to squeeze by on her way to her dad, but there was no need..

She wedged herself between you and Max, and splayed her arms across your lap. With her cheek to your thigh, she sighed, pitifully, “The movie stopped, and my head hurts.”

“Oh, no,” you consoled her in your silly Children’s Television Program presenter voice. “Is it the braids? They can be so un-com-for-table to sleep in.” Perhaps you instilled too much confidence in the pizza to soak up the alcohol, because you were now two beers and a few sips of whiskey deep into the ‘overly affectionate’ stage of your tipsiness. You collected the sleepy girl to your lap, and enveloped her in a bone crushing hug, rocking yourselves back and forth, fawning each other in a happy hum, unaware of the bewildered stares boring into you as you pressed a kiss above her ear.

The men around the table exchanged confused looks with each other, then threw suspicious glances at Eddie, who appeared struck by Cupid. The girls, much more intuitive and observant, smiled at the sweet scene.

She sat sideways across your legs, and kept a hand crooked into your flannel’s collar while you slipped the yellow bauble ponytail from one of her braids, and loosened the plaits. “Do you wanna roll for me?” you asked her, working through the tangles.

Thrilled to participate in her dad’s game, she woke up just enough to say, “Yeah!”

Max felt for your dice, and handed her the largest.

Instead of Adrie letting go of you to cup her hands around it and shake, she pelted it at the table, and after narrowly missing the LEGO skeleton standees, it came to a stop.

“Eight,” Lloyd said with a hint of regret.

You asked Eddie, “Is that enough to hit?”

“It, uh–” The table’s full attention turned towards the Dungeon Master. He dropped his gaze to his notebook, and traced his finger over the dog-eared page. The pressure of their anticipation manifested in his bouncing knee, masking the tremble that would be present in his words regardless when he answered, “Y-Yeah, yeah. That, uh, that hits.”

The party squirmed with awareness; pressed lips ready to burst.

Oblivious, you put the smaller dice in Adrie’s hand, and added up the numbers when she tossed them. “Eleven!” With your turn done, you unraveled the rest of her other braid, and combed your fingers through her hair, circling them on her scalp to give her some relief. Speaking to her, you said, “Wanna count to eleven while we pick another movie?” She started counting automatically.

There was another whisper in her ear, and she hopped off your lap with her arms raised. You cooed a small, “Thought so,” and picked her up, settling her on your hip. Knowing it was Jeff’s turn, and you wouldn’t be needed for a while, you pushed the bedroom door open with your foot, and closed it behind you the same way.

And the very second it clicked shut, the table erupted.

“Jesus, dude, you’re gonna impregnate your coworker if you keep staring at her like that.”

“Ew,” and “Gross,” came from Max and Erica respectively.

Eddie jolted from his trance, mentally erasing the sway of your ass from his mind. His cheeks seared vicious red at Gareth’s comment.

With more tact, Dustin lilted, “So, just a friend from work, huh?” His blue eyes sparkles with mischief, matching the upturn at the corner of his lips, foretelling no good from this interaction, either.

“A friend,” Jeff added, “that he has the biggest crush on.”

Gareth rolled his bottom lip inward, and cocked his head. “More like she’s his babysitter with benefits.”

Loathing the obvious sheen of sweat rushing to his face, Eddie warned him with a pointed finger. “Don’t call her that.” He swung to Dustin next. “And she is my friend, and my coworker,” he stated evenly, putting emphasis on the last word.

Being the voice of reason in these situations, but not entirely on his side, Lloyd told the younger members, “Around the time they started working together, he started coming to band practice not entirely in a bad mood. A few weeks ago, he was even smiling. Apparently they had this little Christmas party, and there was mistletoe–”

“Shut it!”

“You kissed her?” Lucas gasped.

Gareth was the one to knock the gossipy housewife wind from his sails. “No,” he scoffed with a laugh. “He was too much of a pussy.”

Several of the guys snickered, and one said, “So no benefits, then.”

Reining in his volume, Eddie warned them again in a low tone, “I’m well within my right to not want to make things weird between us if it doesn’t work out. I have to see her every day, regardless.” It was one of his oldest excuses in the book, and to be honest with himself, he dismissed it a long time ago. He no longer feared making things awkward, or tampering with your friendship.. but he wasn’t about to explain his real insecurities to so many people at once.

No one needed to know the true reason behind why he hadn’t asked you out yet.

No one had to know why he walked away when you spoke of ‘dating’ and ‘home.’

It was to protect himself, so no one had to look at him with pity when he explained he wasn’t a good enough reason for you to stay in Hawkins past the end of summer. Instead, he defaulted, “We’re just friends.”

Erica was gentle in her approach. “If we’re all just friends here, then why don’t we get matching bracelets made by your daughter?” On instinct, he tugged his sleeve over his wrist to conceal D-A-D-D-Y. “I saw hers when she was messing with Adrienne’s hair.” She saw M-O-U-S-E. “And if you’re just friends, why doesn’t Adrie ever want to be held by us? Or hugged by us? I honestly thought she didn’t like to be coddled by anyone besides you, but then that just happened..”

The questions sank in Eddie’s stomach. It cooled the frustration from his furrowed brow, and eased the tension from around his eyes. He didn’t have a satisfactory answer for the group, but he could share something close enough to the truth, it might better help them understand his hang ups. But first, he downed the rest of his double on the rocks.

Wincing after his swallow, he set down the glass, and ran the heel of palm along the edge of the table. “I’m taking things slow,” he said, “and you all know why. Okay?” Shrugging a bit, he lifted his eyebrows and spoke again to his binders, focusing on his campaign notes rather than his friends. “I only told her everything, y’know, about what happened to me a few weeks ago, so I’m still giving it some time. And, obviously, yeah it’s a big deal having a kid, and her getting attached to someone else.”

“Aw, he’s in love,” someone said.

Exuding patience by closing his eyes, he continued, “Right, so, if you wanna tell her some less embarrassing stories about me, maybe even make me look good in front of her.. I’d really appreciate it.” He ended with a beckoning clap, as if he were striking a deal with the blisters in his life.

“Or,” Mike asserted, “I can roll to hit this ghoul, and if it succeeds, you have to ask her out tonight.” Before Eddie could respond, Mike puffed a lucky breath into his cupped hands, and bounced the dice across the grid. “Thirteen!”

“Aw, sorry, man. Doesn’t hit.”

Vitriol bit into his snark, “Oh, really? Thirteen doesn’t hit, but eight does? Give me a break.” The more his face pinched into a sour expression at Eddie’s stubborn favoritism, the more wickedness laced itself in the Dungeon Master’s smug grin.

Gareth was contributing another goading remark about breaking strict rules if they benefited Eddie’s chances for getting good pussy, but the squeal of the door knob turning interrupted him.

It was noticeably quieter when you sat down at the table, beaming at the mixed signals of people avoiding your gaze, and meeting it with the type of excessive smile you gave a stranger after you were just talking about them behind their back. “So, whose turn is it?” Jeff raised his hand sheepishly. “Oh, you guys didn’t have to wait for–for me!” You hardly got through the sentence before you were giggling into your drink.

Fear not, Gareth broke the underlying tension. “Hey, did Eddie ever tell you he used to walk out on stage with a rose in his mouth, until” –he motioned at the corner of his lips with a grimace– “he cut himself on the thorns one too many times. Ow!”

Gareth clutched at his foot, and the men shot off rapid fire communication through sharp hand gestures, and widened eyes.

Jeff played the Jaws theme.

“Is that true?” you whispered to Lucas.

Lloyd shouted, “Can we get back to the game?”

Still red in the face, Eddie turned to him with his arms extended graciously. “Yes! Thank you! Let’s get back to the game.”

Adjusting his chair under himself, Eddie the Dungeon Master sat with the distinct grace of someone who went unopposed. Wispy curls of his hair caught the wind, drifting in frazzled layers wherever they pleased. The buttons and pins on his jean vest glittered, and tinked together. His lungs expanded with a long, held breath, stretching the black hoodie over his chest. When no one challenged his unceasing eye contact, he continued, “The ghouls were nigh..”

————

The night matured.

Dustin and Lloyd championed your party to an underground cave where the source of the undead were conjured. Eddie heralded your arrival by opening the box beneath his chair, screwing together something behind his barrier of DND lore, and bringing it to his mouth.

You shouldn’t be surprised by him, yet again, but the fact he played flute was just as adorable as his playful grin straining his plush lips to the metal, and his round doe-eyes flitting to yours, and away.

The notes he played grew increasingly haunting, turning intense during the battle with the necromancer who started this all. Then, as the foe turned to dust, Eddie trilled higher, and higher notes. Sillier, and sillier as Dustin looted the robes he left behind.

Everything about Eddie’s expression was impish when the group asked if the scroll found in the pocket was written in common tongue.

“Why, as a matter of fact it is,” he said, much too cheerful, and trilled an incensing measure.

He was being a menace, and the group began to sag with dread.

Dustin’s words were laced with suspicion and regret. “What does it say?”

“Let’s see! It says..” Eddie held up a prop coil of tea-stained parchment, and cleared his throat to don a brittle old man's voice, “I was a lonely necromancer who missed my wife, children, friends, and family. I was merely resurrecting them to have companionship, and you attacked me for nought. I hope you are happy with yourselves, and can sleep at night.” He abandoned the paper to incite violence in his quick succession of notes on the flute. “The dying crops are not my fault. The soil simply has too many minerals from the estuary near Irrilis, and the quarry to the north.” Peering at the blank sheet fallen to his notebook, he faked confusion, “And it says down here, in teeny-tiny writing, ‘You should have checked the bulletin board.’”

Dustin dropped his head into his hands. “You son of a bitch.”

The rest of the quests went smoother, you supposed. After returning to Irrilis and checking the bulletin board, the party’s findings led to the library, which led to a murder, which led to a mystery, which led to finding an object which had the group gasping in surprise. Apparently, the Crimson Order’s emblem on the second dead person’s body, and bite marks on the neck had a long history within the group. The next big campaign was vampire related. You celebrated along with them, cheersing the end of your whiskey, and chasing it with some much needed water.

~~~

Raw twilight bloomed behind heavy set clouds pulling flutters of white against the black.

The night winded down with more fetch quests sending the party deeper into the woods, and to the edge of the mountains. It would take several more sessions to cover the terrain beyond, or something like that. Something, something tales of a labyrinth or some sort before the vampire castle. Your memory was a little fuzzy. Going with the flow of music, whether it was the mellow strums of Lloyd’s guitar, the muffled notes of Jeff’s keyboard, Gareth’s battle march, or the dark piece Eddie played when he introduced an object of interest; your focus muddled with the jokes, the lore, the alcohol. The whiskey burned less, and the oaky honey thrived. You surrendered to the passage of time–interrupted, briefly, when the man sat opposite you answered every one of the boy’s questions with a riddle, and his rascally cackle at their irritation stole another piece of your heart. Falling deeper, and deeper. And deeper for him.

~~~

The early witching hours feasted on the weary adults who were no longer able to pull all-nighters. The game was over for now, and the group packed their things away.

Max asked you, “Did you have fun?”

“Yes!” you blurted. “I didn’t really know what I was getting into, but the atmosphere was so cool. Eddie really knows how to put on a show, huh? And hey, finding fragments of a dragon’s egg shell in a game called Dungeons and Dragons was pretty neat.”

Her laugh brought music to her affirmation, “Yeah, he’s a pretty good DM, and we’ve been hunting the dragons for two years now. Do you think you’ll play with us next month?”

“Totally!”

“Nice.”

Lucas dragged his hand down her arm, and placed the black and neon pink windbreaker in her awaiting palm. She zipped it over her cozy college sweatshirt. They were at the back of the congestion, shuffling around the living room, straying behind the chaos of stumbling adults doubling over to laugh at their clumsiness and inability to find their shoe’s match.

While waiting, you watched several of the guys clasp Eddie’s shoulder as they passed, and placed money in his hand. Oh. Shit. Your gaze snapped to the scattered stack of pizza boxes in the kitchen, and shame licked your cheeks. It never occurred to you to pay for your share.

Quickly, you found your puffer jacket under Mike’s raincoat, and wrangled some cash from the pockets. Your stride went wobbly between the table, chairs, couch, shoes, and bumbling grownups in the cramped trailer, but you squeezed your way to him. He was beginning his goodbyes smushed against the breakfast bar, not quite able to reach the front door just yet.

“Here,” you said, shoving a crumpled $20 at his arm.

Pausing his conversation with Jeff, he twisted to see you over the curve of his shoulder, and absorbed your apologetic face before noticing the money. His lips ticced at the corners. His nostrils flared with a soft snort. Amusement crinkled at the corner of his eyes. “Not from you,” he said. “Why don’t you go check on Adrie for me?”

“Oh.” A confused, maybe disappointed ‘oh.’ “If you’re sure.”

Fighting an internal battle, you stuffed the $20 in your jeans, and held true to your frown. You were about to argue, but your brain registered what he’d asked you to do. “Adrie!” you whispered excitedly, and made finger guns towards the bedroom.

You scurried (yes, scurried) off, and left Eddie to fend for himself.

Jeff was twisting his hand around his chin in mock rumination. “She doesn’t have to pay, hmm?”

“Not my place to comment,” Gareth said, about to make a comment, “but maybe you should think about cashing in those benefits.” He paused, drunkenness slowing him into a contemplative stare. “Or at least fu–”

“Anyway!” Erica saved the situation by pushing past all of them to wrench the door open. “Well.. that sucks.”

Icy flakes floated in pendulum swings to the ground, where they stuck.

Eddie stood on his tip-toes to study the severeness over his friend’s heads. The weather appeared to be in its mild beginnings, not yet falling in a considerable sheet from the sky, but still, he was a dad, and he was prone to worrying. The party hardly finished lacing up their shoes, and he was making them promise they’d call him as soon as they got home. They’d barely walked down the steps, and he was there at the bottom, holding his arm out. “Seriously, call me as soon as you get home,” he warned each household.

And it was only once the last car’s tail lights trailed red streaks over the main road, he went inside.

The trailer wept with emptiness. Remnants of being fulfilled remained–the trash, the lingering body heat, and stuffy air–but it sighed with loneliness. The trailer was pent up. In need of decompressing after the hours of putting on a show, and in a constant state of overthinking, entertaining his friends while fighting the itch deep in his chest that said ‘I wish none of these people were here except for you.’

The trailer longed for you, searching the couch, the card table, the kitchen where the bottle of whiskey was left behind. The trailer sought you in the corners of its belly, its lungs, its head, leaving the heart for last.

Eddie pushed open the bedroom door, and you were not in his daughter's bed. He lurched further into the room. Needy for the heart. And he found it. He found his home..

A pair of adult legs stuck out from the entrance to the blanket fort.

Judging by the angle of your feet and your knee tucked into the other, you were laying on your side. The powder pink bedsheet gathered in folds around your lower thighs. Strings of Christmas lights pressed against the shelter, and the TV flicked bright colors as it played a movie on a low volume.

Daring, his fingertips encountered the coarse weave of your jeans on his way to lift the bedsheet keeping your sleeping form separated from his greedy gaze. Stealing moments where he could be learning your face, placed a precious snore away from his daughter’s, sharing the pillow with her curls and unicorn hugged to her chin. Inhaling silently, and exhaling in a quick breath, not yet catching the sound in your throat akin to a mumbly whine at the dream playing under your twitching eyelids.

The sheet draped the back of his neck.

Risking, he traced the rugged outer seam of your jeans. Starting at your printed socks, and traveling up your calf, over the rigid mountain peaks of stiff fabric creased around your knee, and discovering the squish of your leg under his prodding. His eyes were trained on your face. He slipped his palm over your upper thigh. A gentle warmth of his presence. Next, he cupped the curve of your knee, fitting it into his hand, and he continued his stroke downwards, tightening his fingers to your shin, and stopping to squeeze your ankle. You didn’t stir.

He shifted closer, widening his stand and ducking under the canopy to reach your face.

Leaning over you, he anchored his balance to your hip, relaxing his hold on the arch of bone shaped like a strung bow, and dragged his other knuckles along your cheek. Three fingers worth. Three opportunities for him to press his skin to your hairline, and brush them along the flat plane before the adorable round apples he knew to be relaxed under the surface while you dozed.

You were soft. So unexpectedly soft.

Courageous, smooth peach fuzz welcomed a fourth knuckle. A simple sweep of the back of his hand to your face. Feeling you. All of you. Insatiable.

His breathing grew heavier at the hunger.

Stomach clenching from the craving of more.

Heart, starved.

It was animalistic, but you weren’t afraid. No, you weren’t afraid when you twitched and slapped at your cheek, expecting a fly to be tickling you in your sleep, but as you awoke, you prodded at the confusing obstruction, and glided your fingers along the underside of his. Plump ridges punctuated by hard calluses with scratchy outlines. You recognized them by touch alone, and fought through the pain of your bloodshot eyes to peer up at the man looming above you, and yawned.

“No boys allowed,” you whispered through the groggy haze.

Oh, he nearly let his tipsy tongue admit too much to your dopey grin.

Eddie could tell he was smiling hard enough his vision suffered from his encroaching cheeks. His eyes were inundated by his happiness, nearly closed to slits from how hard he beamed when he slid from gaze from you, to his daughter who enacted the ‘No Boys’ rule, and to you again. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, withdrawing.

He helped you stand. With difficulty. The whiskey hurled you into a premature REM cycle, and without consideration, he roused you from its depths. In your drowsy state, you clung to him for stability, depending on his chest to support you. Not that he was complaining. He was reliable, compensating for your swaying by grasping your upper arms, and teasing you with a, “Whoa there, silly.”

Stood outside the closed bedroom, there was not a chance for gaps to stop your lower inhibitions. Alone, you were together. In the same hallway where there was a thrifted painting of a lake scene hung beside the bathroom, a shelf with a set of wooden ducks amongst the ceramic knick knacks, a doorway where he ate his oatmeal while watching you and Adrie play. Those points of interest were all there; you were familiar with them, even if you struggled to open your eyes.

You fawned over him, snickering at nothing until your features tensed into confusion, not understanding the bits of ice clinging to the fibers of his hoodie, scraping at them with your fingernail. You collapsed into him more, leaning your forearms on his steady frame, rising and falling, accepting the lullaby of his pleased hum. The very outline of your torso discovered his, giving him a taste of your warmth; comforting you both with the actuality of such a thing. You skimmed your fingers up to his hair, picking at the sloshy liquid burdening the ends of his curls. “Why’re you wet?” you mumbled.

“It’s snowing,” he repeated from earlier, when the rush of standing whooshed in your ears, rendering him an otherworldly voice from beyond. “It’s not bad, but like hell I’m about to let you bike home in it. If you wanna give me some time to eat and have a cup of coffee, I can sober up and drive you, sweet girl,” he finished like hot honey.

You circled your palms over his pecs with the lack of awareness a blissfully buzzed person would for the lone reason of wanting to experience the texture of his hoodie burn your skin from the friction. “But wouldn’t you have to wake Adrie up to bring her with us?”

“I would, but she’ll be fine. She’ll probably fall asleep in the car.”

“No, no, no,” you shushed him, losing your merry smile for the first time in hours. “Robin’s working very, very, very late tonight. She’ll probably be off her shift soon. She can pick me up. And my bike can fit in her trunk, unlike your tiny car.” Many of your words mushed together from your drowsy, drowsy, drowsy imploring.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah! I’ll call her, and hey, we can clean up while she’s on her way.” When his expression was less than enthused at the suggestion, you waggled your eyebrows, and bit your bottom lip, enticing him. “We can make it fun,” you tried. “You know, we’ll play music, drink some more, eat whatever pizza’s left.” You walked your fingers up his shoulders, and he smoothed his hands around your wrists, flattening your palms to his clavicle.

Eddie lowered his head until he managed to peer at you through his lashes, asking a condescending, but lighthearted question, “That’s what you wanna do? Help me clean?”

You reaffirmed, “It’ll be fun.”

“Fine by me, sweetheart. Go call Buckley.”

The plans were put on pause while you called the back office of the grocery store, but after a short conversation, and many twirls of the cord around your finger, your voice lightened with relief, “Thank you so, so much. I love you.”

You hung up, and spun around to tell Eddie the fabulous news.

The two glass tumblers on the kitchen counter were assuming. Filled with ice cubes from the blue plastic tray in the sink, and situated in front of the opened whiskey. There was a decent amount left–a fourth of the entire bottle, probably–and he didn’t need to hear you repeat Robin’s message about her getting off work soon to unscrew the cap and begin pouring.

No distinct emotion crossed his face when divided an even shot into each of the smokey gray glasses, and paused the bottle above yours to ask, “So, what kind of drunk are you?”

The ice cracked and popped as it melted.

“Giggly, touchy,” you supposed.

He tipped the bottle and added another healthy shot to yours. You raised your eyebrows at his boldness, and scoffed out the same question, “What kind of drunk are you?”

“Hm.” He propped his hand on the counter, and cocked his hip out, staring out into the living room. You studied his side profile from where you stayed by the telephone, most notably how his light wash jeans gathered around the bulk of his zipper again; hoodie tucked behind the handcuff belt buckle. The weathered silver metal glinted an edge of orange from the lamp beside the microwave, shifting as he rocked his weight to his other foot. “Stupid, I think,” he said finally. “I make stupid decisions, ‘nd shit.”

“Are you trying to make stupid decisions tonight?”

His features kicked up, and instead of giving you a verbal answer, he brought the bottle up and dropped his head back.

“Eddie!” you gawked.

Your mouth hung open in awe, stunned into silently watching the bubbles race to the top of the amber liquid chugging ever closer to the neck of the bottle being strangled in his white-knuckled grip. His eyes were screwed shut, body tensed and struggling to finish it off, lips pursed in a kiss around the opening. Each gulp sent his Adam’s apple jumping.

He threw his head forward. The bottle slammed on the counter, final sips of liquid sloshing in waves along the bottom. He caught the dribble falling from his chin with his sleeve, and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. All of him shuddered. Teeth bared as he grimaced through the burn, eyebrows furrowed in mild regret.

After the last jerk of shoulders battling the aftershocks of disgust, you mimicked his parental exasperation, “What in the world are you doing?”

Making a stupid decision.

A tight line of water flooded his eyes. He ran his fingers over his shy smile, turning to look at you with a particular brand of sheepishness usually reserved for teenagers who were trying to impress their friends. “I only had two drinks the entire night. I’m just catching up to you.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He agreed.

“Bobbie’s still gonna be a while,” you said on your way to grabbing your drink, now wondering if you were going to be the more sober one in half an hour. “Shall we get to cleaning?”

He lifted his tumbler by picking it up by the rim and clinked it to yours, but refrained from taking a sip when you did. Thankfully. “Wayne’s got some jazz records in the crate next to the record player, where the TV is.. Well, where the TV was. On that cabinet beside his bed.. If you’d just.. Look over there.. Okay, why are you staring at me?”

Memorizing the freckle of the side of his nose to your heart’s content, you shrugged. “You blush a lot.”

“Do not,” he denied in a mutter. He felt his cheek, poking and prodding and smashing at the skin being tugged down by his pouty frown. “It’s just the alcohol.”

“Ah.”

You sipped, swallowed, and snickered on your way to the record player cabinet, weaving through the staggered chairs untucked from the table. You laughed again. Just the alcohol, he said. Yet, he’d been flushed red all night. Or, at least, since he bragged about his seven inches.

~~~

The soundtrack for cleaning was a 25th Anniversary edition of a label’s best live performances over the years.

Various artists scored the yucky business of folding and stacking the chairs against a spare wall, trying not to envision a spider popping out at any moment from where it may be laying in wait under the seats. A fun upbeat tambourine number played when Eddie knocked over Wayne’s beard trimmer in the bathroom. Wondrous vocals warbled against your game of wadding up the used napkins and tossing them at the trashcan, while Eddie flung the paper plates like frisbees until both of you tired, and threw them away as normal. Brass horns vibrated under your hands and knees as you crawled around on the floor, finding all the crushed beer cans. Lazy drum beats coaxed both of your languid movements into the sort of drunken erraticism that came from being buzzed, gesturing without much consideration for sharp corners, or breakable things. He packed away his miniatures while you wiped down the counters, and he washed the dishes while you attempted to sweep up crumbs from the grid table cloth and fold it into a neat-ish square.

The record stopped.

A break ensued. You drank the rest of your whiskey, and Eddie searched every pizza box, divvying out the last slices for you to share over wordless respite, heads drooping, chewing slowly.

After washing the greasy cornmeal from his hands, and wiping the flour from around his mouth, he suggested, “Why don’t you put on the yellow record? Third from the end, on the left.”

You found the one he spoke of–golden yellow–and put the needle to it.

Together, you hauled out the dense vintage couch the few inches it required; done in dozens of centimeters, yanking on the ugly upholstery until your fingernails ached, and arms gave up. Eddie was rushing you, annoyingly so. Hurrying on in anguish, the table was flipped on its side, and its legs folded in. It was stuffed against the wall after some difficulty (the mugs remained intact), and after shoving the hulking piece of furniture to close the gap, you fell to the lumpy cushions with an exhausted groan.

You went boneless. Arms and legs landing wherever. Head lulling to the side. Eyes closed. Relaxed. Drifting off to the place where you were in the blanket fort at an alarming rate..

The song switched.

“May I have this dance?”

You opened your eyes.

Eddie’s hand came into focus. He was bent at the waist, extending an invitation. Reciprocating. Making true on his promise for the dance he owed you. It seemed so long ago; back when you knew him as a single dad who was private about his personal life. Now you knew. You knew his home, his past, his trauma, his notebook, his friends, his band, his daughter’s favorite stuffed toy named Fluff. You knew his pizza order (cheese with black olives), his favorite color (deep, sultry red), his laundry detergent (Cheer Free for extra sensitive skin). You knew his body temperature ran like a furnace, you knew the knot of pink scar tissue on the meat of his thumb, you knew the shimmery flecks of butterscotch in his eyes when he went teary. In the span of a few days, you knew him better than you did weeks ago, before Christmas.

You took his hand. He helped you stand, and in a brave exhale, he held you in timeless elegance.

It wasn’t like the dance before, where you minded the respectable distance two coworkers should. No. He still clasped your right hand in his left, sure, but from there the similarities to waltzing in the garage differed. Reservation did not stop at the top of his neck, or his bicep–you switched your friendly clasp from those safe areas, to introducing your torsos, and pinning his arm under yours in effort to reach the middle of his back. He enveloped your waist, coaxing your hips together with woozy enthusiasm. Close, close, close. Handcuff belt buckle catching on your jean’s zipper at each pass until you began to sway in aching unison to Frank Sinatra’s Somethin’ Stupid.

You empathized with the heady flush pinkening the bulbous tip of his nose, and gazed into his eyes. Or tried. His eyelids fell in sluggish blinks, and his envious lashes refused to part. The sway was a shuffle. Your head was swimming. Failing to focus on one particular thing before your vision went cross, and the room spun, despite standing almost still.

It didn’t take long for either of you to surrender.

Rocking side to side–no turning, no pivoting–you accepted the innate desire to rest your head on his chest, and even from a distance, his pulse beat against your ear. Hard pumps of lifeblood under your cheek laid flat on the faded black hoodie. If you looked the other way, you’d see the jean vest reeking of cigarette smoke thrown on the couch where he discarded it before asking you to dance, but you chose to admire your joined hands. Preferring to learn the dry skin where a scrape was healing on his thumb knuckle–how small your thumb was in comparison to the single stretch of bone until the next joint, and his blunt nail. Maybe he was admiring such a thing too, because he stretched his fingers and curled them snugger to yours, and he set his chin atop your head, learning another new intimacy.

You melted under the burden of his weight.

He exposed the issue of your hair catching on the stubble of his five o’clock shadow.

You craned your head against the grain, and he nuzzled his chin harder.

Two people discovering their deprived yearns.

The sweetness of being crooked into the hollow of his body. The possession of snagging a full grip of his hoodie between your fingers, and becoming the reason he filled his lungs. Existing around him. And he existed in you, in all the unexplored corners, and you dusted the cobwebs from his. Fulfilling the dark places. Giving them light, and acceptance. Sharing the slice of night before it turned day. Swaying, rocking, swimming together in an inebriated dance under a tin roof, under the sprinkling snow, under the opaque clouds, under the crescent moon, under the twinkling stars. Under the universes, and hypothetical alternate dimensions and timelines, and as attractive as they seemed, you wouldn’t choose a different one. This is the one. This is the exact dimension, the exact timeline you wanted.

No longer wishing to lead, Eddie closed your fingers into a soft fist, and placed your hand over his heart, cupping his palm over it and stressing the thousands of unspoken words in his squeeze.

Basking in the minutes stretching to hours, the music looped into a perfect eternity.

It was getting late, almost time to leave, you guessed.

You withdrew your head. Eddie lifted his. The spot his chin once resided on your scalp ran abnormally cold from the loss, and there must’ve been an imprint of wrinkled fabric on your cheek, because that’s where his eyes landed first on their journey to meet your resilient gaze.

The beginnings of his lopsided grin emerged.

He spoke, and it was a single word. “Yeah.”

You didn’t know why he said it, or what he meant, but in this moment, in his arms, with your hand nestled between his and his heart, you agreed, “Yeah.” This was special. Whatever this was, this was special.

A huff of laughter broke through your smile, and his. Giggly silliness.

You were embraced from the top of your thighs, through to the slight proposal of your hips, and ending at the acute strength of your arms pressing each other closer.

Eddie raised your hand from his heart to his face. His thumb ensured your fingers stayed curled in, barring you from investing in a full, unadulterated touch. Wisps of his hair traced your skin. His exhale snaked down your flannel sleeve. Your inner wrist stopped at the slick junction of his lips, where he had swiped his tongue over out of nervous habit.

Oddly, he tapped your hand a few times to his cheek.

It made you curious. You copied him, bringing his hand to your face. Hooked your thumb under his sleeve to expose his wrist, and tapped it to your cheek. Ah, you understood.

Such delicate, unscarred skin brushed against the ridges of your lips, each tap like a kiss along the edge of your lovesick simper. Closer to a kiss than anything you’d experienced with him before. Still so tender, and so pure.

“Yeah?” A raw tremble was present in your question; gone shy from the profoundness of the single word, and fearing you were attributing the wrong meaning behind something so little, yet so large in your relationship.

But he saw the doubt, and he reassured you, “Yeah.” By the wetness glossing over his eyes, he reassured you your assumptions weren’t wrong. He whispered it again, softer, to where the one syllable croaked out, “Yeah.”

This was special.

The alcohol sat like candor on your tongue. “Wanna know a secret?” you teased as you let go of his wrist, and guided your hands up to his nape, linking your fingers over the bulky hood prohibiting you from playing with the sensitive hairs on the back of his neck. He slung his arm around your waist, over top of the other, encompassing you in a true hug.

He squinted at you. “How drunk are you? Don’t go tellin’ me somethin’ you’ll regret in the morning.”

“It’s nothing like that, I swear.” There was a flirty whine to your pitch, and even flirtier breathiness to your voice. Encouraging him to maintain the sway, leading him side to side, foot to foot, taking advantage of flow to put an arch in your back, and rise onto the balls of your feet, undetected. Your heart skipped at the proximity. “You know how I said my top three favorite people were Robin, Adrie, and then you?” you reminded him. “That’s actually backwards.. I said it backwards. It’s actually you, Adrie, and then Robin. But don’t tell her that.”

His mouth hung open to respond, but his gaze was off, discerning something behind you in the distance. When he centered on you again, there was a new kindness to the wrinkles framing his handsome face. “Are you okay with sharing my number one spot?”

“I would be honored.”

“Good,” he emphasized, “I’d be heartbroken if you didn’t want to be my favorite.”

“I always want to be your favorite,” you preened.

The innocence slipped from his expression. He’d never heard you sound quite so needy, or eager to be something of his, and the effects were sudden and poorly timed.

Outside, rocks skidded on the cracked pavement. A car turning in from the main road sunk into a pothole, and bounced out. The music spinning on the record player crescendoed. The fluorescent bulbs in the lamps hummed with electricity. Scents of acidic tomato sauce and oregano were inescapable. Tiny pellets of hail pinged on the tin roof. You both looked up, listening to it pass after a drifty-cloud moment.

Eddie concentrated on keeping your chests together. His forearms dug into your waist as he found the best way to lock his grip. He dipped his head lower when you had no choice but to lean up, and into him. “If I give you my number, will you call me when you get home, so I know you made it safe?”

Every consonant and vowel vibrated in your skull, thrumming velvety richness through the daze.

“I already have your number,” you said amongst the warmth building, and building behind your rib cage.

He faltered, confused. “You have my number?”

“Mhm, an even bigger birdie told me.”

Both bewildered by the callback, and having a tendency to fall head over heels for anything and everything you did, regardless if it was an unsatisfying answer or not, Eddie snorted, and scrunched his face, observing you with all the judgment you earned. “That’s either really creepy, or really endearing.”

You dropped your gaze to his crooked smile, and the car approaching the blue and white trailer faded away.

His lips were gorgeous. Overly full, and a wonderful shade of fleshy red with a tint of pink. They were bitten. Chewed on when his nerves got the best of him. Behind them, the edges of his teeth showed. Above them, you put your energy into obsessing over his overly large nose, as you had in many instances, but never at this distance, able to see every pore, every freckle, every splotch, and realizing this could become a normal occurrence, being this close.

His eyes were overly large as well, and they followed each micro-tic of yours.

“Good thing you find me endearing, then,” you provoked.

He loved that response.

“I do,” he chased. “I do,” he gave in. The willpower to resist his urges crumbled at the admission. He pressed his forehead to yours, and conceded until his mouth ached with happiness, “I find you so endearing.”

The alcohol dulled the intimate gesture. The top layers of your skin were numb. You had to work harder to feed the starvation; grinding your forehead against his, digging deeper to feel the itch of his bangs stuck to the glisten of boozy sweat. Sliding your nose alongside his, smashing the tips to each other’s cheeks. Sharing the same breaths, panting feathery sighs into each other’s mouths. Then, another carnal bump of noses, clumsy and misaligned, and a hard rut bone on bone until your bodies tingled with satisfaction. Satiated. Full.

Eddie turned his groan into a ragged, “I fucking adore you.”

“I adore you, too,” you promised, on the verge of crying and not knowing why.

He pulled away, dragging the tip of his nose up the side of yours, and tracing it down, allowing them to stay connected for a moment longer. A cooldown while your stomach flipped, and your pulse raced. I adore you.

The whole thing was strange to do with your coworker, especially with your hands remaining latched where they were, and there was no grinding elsewhere; it was just sheer lust for touch. Mutual, too.

His overly large pupils bored into yours. Neither of you had appropriate commentary on what transpired, probably for the better.

A car engine rumbled outside.

“Yeah, I’m pretty toasted, I think,” you said.

He pinched his eyebrows in, and pursed his lips. “Think I am, too.”

Either way, it was a good excuse for you almost moaning his name, and him choosing to hinge his phrase on adore, as if the endearment couldn’t be swapped out, and suddenly, the entire sentiment would have changed. It would be a confession.

There was a knock on the door, and Robin’s voice came muffled, but the urgency of being stuck out in the cold was conveyed.

Both of you hastened separating yourselves, and fumbled around each other.

Always, Eddie was a gentleman and helped you put on your jacket after you argued he was way more plastered than you were, despite you being the one doubled over with your hands on your knees, wobbling, disoriented after reaching down for it. He made sure you were dressed before going outside. Zipped you all the way to your chin, even when you complained it looked dorky. He lined your shoes up for you, and waited for you with his eyes closed, drifting off to a dream while standing up.

He handed you off to Robin, and loaded her trunk with your bike. For whatever reason, you didn’t climb inside the car yet. You waited in the snow for him. Collecting glittery flakes on your eyelashes, inhaling the fresh, crisp air. Probably quelling the nausea, same as he was, taking gulps of oxygen while he blinked, and blinked, searching the swirling images for something his brain could comprehend to get it to stop.

You waited for him, never saying anything. In heavy steps, he came to you, and wedged his fingers under the door handle, popping open the latch with an expression of wryness, as if you expected him to open every door for you.

Which, he would, for the record.

Stopping you before you sat, he grabbed at your jacket and bent himself to you, no longer afraid to press the cold tip of his nose to the shell of your ear, and drag his lips over the peach fuzz as he spoke directly to you. “Call me,” he stressed against your shiver.

“I will.”

At that, he shut your door and Robin began backing out of his driveway, stunting his wave goodbye from the headlights blinding him. He moved to the stairs, then to the top of the landing to watch the car drive around the soft bend around the trailers, and out onto the highway, leaving him behind.

He entered the trailer, and it was full.

It felt full, anyway. In his stomach, his chest, behind his eyelids, in the dusty corners, in the mortal hollows, manifesting a tightness in his throat, and a contradictory heaviness to his weightlessness, floating on clouds after spending an entire day with his crush and ending it with I adore you.

Eddie brushed his hair back, neatening the tangles wetted by ice. He combed his bangs off his forehead, and drove his fingers against his scalp, leaving his hands on top of his head, stripping himself of the extra stimulation to hone in on the persistent throb between his brows where you staked your claim.

You had made your home there, and he couldn’t wait for your return.

“Jesus Christ.”

With his woolgathering out of the way, he went to where Adrie was half-asleep in the doorway to her bedroom, and he crouched onto his knees. “Were you watching us dance?”

Wrapped in a blanket and sitting slumped over, she nodded against the wood frame, and sucked in the drool threatening to spill over her bottom lip. Only having the energy to open her eyes a smidge, she still found it within herself to have gripes with him. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“I’m sorry,” he pouted in a silly deep voice.

Stooping further, he worked his arm under her legs, and collected the sleepy bundle that was his daughter to his chest. He shuffled along on his knees over to the fort, and man, did he understand why you fell asleep so easily in the blanket nest. Just the accidental touches when he set Adrie down called to him, as did the bleating sheep hopping over fences in his head. It was enticing.. but the phone was ringing, and the first check in of the night as calling.

He knew it wasn’t you, but his heart leapt all the same.

“Sorry the phone might ring a lot,” he said. “Do you want another movie on? I’ll put another move on so it doesn’t wake you, okay?”

She scrunched her nose in a bad way, not like he did when he was laughing. Probably from the alcohol on his breath, and his waning coherency.

He stowed away his kisses for now. “Sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye, but I promise you, I promise you, okay? Miss Mouse will be back soon.” That was the heaviness in his chest. The decision. “I’ll invite her over, and we can all play together, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” she mumbled, loosening her grasp on his hair.

She was out, and he paced the kitchen while he chatted to stay awake.

————

Eddie sat at the small green table with his head resting back against the peeling wallpaper. A single light above the wrap-around counter skimmed the belly of the trailer. It traced the bubbles slipping down the bottle in front of him, and glanced the top of his pillow on the couch, submitting to the darkness past his plaid blanket waiting for him. The phone cord draped over his shoulder, down to his chest. The last call was half an hour ago. Maybe? He knew his last swig of whiskey was seconds ago. Everyone had checked in, and his ability to show an ounce of self-control was forfeited to the sheep. In his final blink, his body went lax, and he passed out.

Though, he could always count on the clangy ring to cut through their bleats.

Jolting awake, he searched above him for the phone, knocking it off the hook before it disturbed Adrie.

He was disoriented.

“Hello?”

Quiet as a mouse, a voice came, “Hey.”

He sat up. Alertness spread through him in waves, rippling from the decision sitting hot on his tongue, and stirring deeper, lower. Your greeting was filtered by the tiny microphone caged in yellowed plastic, but the dozy, sweltering rasp was there. “Hey, sweetheart,” he answered in kind, and inhaled deeply before the blood loss in his brain rendered him lightheaded.

One word in and he was wiping his palm on his jeans, and keeping it there, on his thigh.

“Sorry it took me so long,” you apologized in a whisper. “I wanted to wait until everyone went to sleep. I’m in the living room. In the dark.” You giggled as if it were a joke he should be in on.

He peeked behind him to make sure the bedroom door was shut, and wrenched the phone against his lips to stifle his own laughter. “Yeah? I’m sitting in the dark, too.”

You hummed.

He didn’t know if you were making a pass at him by mentioning you were alone as he was, so he chose something innocuous to comment on, bouncing the ball in your court. “You sound tired, baby. You should go to bed.”

“But my bed’s cold,” you whined.

Bingo.

Risks were worth taking as long as you participated.

In a matter of quick exchanges, he had his palm between his thighs, running his fingernails down the coarse fabric of his jeans and cupping the heft. “My bed’s cold too,” he matched your pitch, exploring his thumb upwards.

“If you were here, mine wouldn’t have to be..”

“But you live in someone else’s parent’s attic,” he teased.

“And your bed’s a couch,” you shot back.

He checked the closed door behind him one more time, and yielded, “You’re right.” You liked being right. He liked it when you were right. Your grin tinted all your pretty words when you were right. Well, they would, if you were speaking. “Babe?”

“Sorry, that was quick,” you said, struggling through a yawn after nodding off. “I’m laying on the recliner, and it’s really comfy.”

“Then go to sleep,” he implored in a chastising snicker.

You grunted.

Except, it didn’t sound like the other grunts and groans he’d heard you make over the months. This one was sweeter, higher, similar to the airy catch in your throat when your bottom lip dragged on his stubble. A moan of his name, he hoped. He twitched against the warmth of his palm. Growing rapidly under the first strokes of his thumb encouraging his descent, half-hard just at the thought.

How much whiskey he had was of no concern when it came to you. Clearly.

He couldn’t stop his appetite from lowering his voice, “Whatcha doin’, sweet girl?”

You turned it back on him, “What are you doing?” And when he was busy rearranging how he sat to give his jeans some slack to wrap his thick fingers around himself, you mused with an evident smirk, “Touching your orc dagger?”

Goddamnit. “If you ever bring that up again, I swear..”

“You must be, with how you’re avoiding the question.” You muffled your giggle–probably with your shirt collar, if he had to guess. Teasing him more, you slurred, “S’okay. I saw how hard you were staring at my shirt earlier. Just thought you’d like to know I’m not wearing it anymore. Not wearing a bra either.”

You’re right. He did like knowing that. So much, in fact, he smoothed his fingers in a long tug along his length, stroking twice over the sensitive head, and repeating.

“Not wearing anything?” he asked, sounding a bit more husky than he intended.

“Just the flannel. Gotta be a little dressed.. in case someone comes in.” You shifted in the middle of your sentence, and at first Eddie pictured you turning onto your back. Imagining your tits shifting against the flannel, and their subtle bounce as you got comfortable. How hard your nipples pressed to the fabric, and what they must feel like being licked and sucked into his mouth, and all the beautiful noises you’d make for him. Unfortunately..

“Touchin’ yourself for me, sweetheart?” Nothing.. “Sweetheart?” Oh.. “You fall asleep again?”

An actual grunt, maybe a hiccup, or a snore created static on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry,” you sincerely apologized.

Poor sweet thing. “Tell you what,” he reasoned. “Why don’t you go to bed, and think about how nice it’d be for me to be there with you; how warm I am. And I’ll take a shower, and do the same.”

You asked, “You mean you’re gonna think about me while in the shower?”

He squeezed himself. “Yes,” he answered truthfully. There was no fucking way either of you’d remember this by Monday morning. It was kinda thrilling; obeying the allure, and teasing each other without consequence.

“Nice.”

“Mhmm.”

Eddie closed his eyes in the following silence. The fantasy drifted to something tender. Sharing a bed. Waking up next to you. The alcohol made it difficult to remember why you called, and fathom why he was holding a conversation. His own hand went slack around the part his heart pumped blood to. The urge passed. The desire to brush his teeth replaced the lust. He was drunk, and he was losing the battle to remain conscious.

His body slouched ever forward.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“I can’t stay awake.”

“Neither can I..” Not that it mattered, but before the conversation ended and he summoned the strength to collapse on the couch instead of the green table for the sole reason of never wanting his daughter to discover him passed out in the kitchen from drinking too much, he heeded the heaviness in his chest. The decision. And he told you, “By the way, I thought of what to do for that ‘thank you’ I owe you. It’s time I pay you back for everything you’ve done for me.”

Processing his words at a slower rate, a few moments ticked by before the intrigue ate at you. “And what’s that, handsome?”

He smiled. “It’s a surprise.”

You snorted. “It’ll be a surprise if either of us remember anything after I failed nine rolls in a row, and you chugged.. Fuck, however much whiskey you’ve had. I don’t even wanna know.”

In a night of stupid decisions, he committed to one more; the joke was too good to not tumble past his loose lips, “Not enough to stop my orc dagger from growing seven inches.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, that was awful. I’m never calling you again. Goodbye.”

The speed at which you hung up sent him doubled over, clutching his aching stomach. He tried to keep quiet, really. He held onto his dignity just long enough to take three attempts to hang up the phone, and then it hit him with reckless abandon. He slapped his hand over his gaping mouth, and shook until the breathless gasps came out in squeaks, ugly laughing at his own stupid joke. He rocked back and forth, almost hitting his forehead on the table, and only caught his breath when tears brimmed his lashes, and he remembered his forehead was sacred, and he should stop. If he hit it, it’d be like an earthquake to your home. Except, that imagery also made him giggle, and he was at it again. Biting his tongue to subdue his outbursts while he stretched out on the couch cushions which rubbed his skin raw everytime he changed position. Finally, he was at peace. He tried to forget about the impending hangover he was going to have to explain to Wayne, and instead, he thought about you, and let his daydream take him to a fantasy where he could wake up next to you. And if he went through with his decision, maybe it could become a reality.

No. Not if. He would. He would go through with it. Probably. If you asked about it, he would, definitely. If you didn’t, he’d.. he’d still do it. He couldn’t keep living like this.

However, for both your sakes, he hoped neither of you remembered this night come Monday morning.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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adventuresinobx · 1 year

Text

Tanny Hill

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: With everyone out of Tanny Hill, you and Rafe have the perfect excuse to use the full home and all its facilities to your benefit.

A/N: Sooo @starkeyobx and I bingewatched the whole of OBX3 in one day and this is the first piece of writing I put together after, based on her idea. So I hope you love it but there’s loads more fics to come! 😊😊

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, choking, a bit of danger, exhibitionism

You knew you shouldn’t have agreed when Rafe Cameron invited you for a private tour of his home. Frankly, you didn’t even know how you ended up at the party at all. You worked at the country club and Rafe had been quite obsessed with you for weeks, months. He had always eyed you from the other side of the club, eyes fixed as he peered at you over his whiskey glass.

That was six months ago you were up on his balcony for the first time and now you were barely off it. You became a regular visitor at his home. First it was once a week, then it became twice a week and now you practically lived there. You’d hang out there all day and all night, and it wasn’t until he asked you to be his girlfriend a few weeks ago that you took the step to move a few of your things in. Just a toothbrush, some sanitary towels and some make up for now, but he’d especially cleared a drawer just for your stuff. You loved this softer side of him, something everyone else barely saw.

You flicked your eyes back to the bed, swinging your feet off it and making a move towards the balcony. You loved the balcony on the morning, when the sun was creeping through the trees in the Outer Banks. Rafe’s home looked out directly onto the water and with barely any boats at this time of day, it was so peaceful. The sun was just shimmering across the water and the marshes added that pop of green to the view that made it even more special to you. It was paradise.

You were so caught up in the view that you didn’t even hear the balcony door softly open behind you. When it clicked back shut, you looked back to see Rafe, barefoot, bare chest on display and just in a pair of boxers which sat low around his waist.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice husky and deep as he rubbed his eyes and moved closer to you. You turned away, eyes focused on the view once more as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you softly. You sighed contently, lightly pushing your back into his front as he rested his head on top of yours. The smell of your hair, his favourite scent, always did something to him, especially first thing in the morning.

He took a deep breath, kissing your head softly, before his arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer. You felt the heat from his body touch yours and the sound of a little moan from low in his throat had you feeling a certain type of way. “Mhmm you look so beautiful just in my shirt,” he said, hand moving down your side to your bare thigh before he switched his motion and slid his hand up under your top to grip your bare bottom.

He heard and felt your breath hitching in your throat, your bodies so close to one another. Him being this close almost made you feel dizzy. “And so beautiful out of it.” He lifted the shirt up, exposing your bare bum completely to his view as he squeezed each cheek lightly. Your breath was so caught in your throat that you thought you might not even be able to breathe again; he had definitely picked up on that as he leant down and kissed your jaw, then to your neck and down to your shoulder.

“Mine,” he groaned, hands tearing at the material of the T-shirt as he explored your body, the body he knew so well. “All fucking mine,” he said, punctuating each word with the grab of your right breast. You moaned at the feeling, head falling back against his as he ground his hips into yours a little and then harder when he heard you moan at the sensation. “Mine to fuck where I want and when - maybe even here.” He gestured to the open balcony and a fire lit inside you. Something you had never felt so strong before. You were hooked.

“Do it,” you said, managing to loosen yourself from his grip and twist around to face him. You tugged your own shirt off, tossing it away somewhere. Probably over the balcony and to the floor below. You stood there, completely naked in front of him, taking his hands in yours and encouraging him to feel over your body. It was always your favourite thing when he did.

“Fuck, just like that Rafe, have me, right here.” He gulped at your words, swallowing hard before his hand traced up your body to your throat. He gripped softly first but when you whined at the feeling, he tightened his grip a little and pulled your face up to meet his before trapping your mouth in a passionate embrace with his. The feeling of his fingers on your throat made it feel even better.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he mumbled, tongue slipping into your mouth as he kissed you with so much force and passion that it took your breath away. You sighed contently, hips pushed into his as you scratched your nails down his front. You moved your hands up to his shoulders, gripping them hard as he lifted you up and sat you on the edge of the balcony. Most people’s instant thought would be worrying about falling 5 metres to the ground, you were just focused on him and how good he was making you feel.

He leant into you, almost pushing you over the balcony, your grip of him and his of yours keeping you from falling. Whilst most would be scared for their life, you were just more turned on. Of course, you thrived off danger. You wouldn’t be into Rafe Cameron if you didn’t like danger. He pulled you back in, telling you firmly to jump onto him as your legs wrapped around him tightly.

“Want you Rafe, please,” you begged, hands moving down between your bodies to try and pull his boxers down, “Need you so badly.” You sighed, body pressed hard against his as he nipped at your neck.

“Patience darling, be a good girl and bend over that balcony f’ me,” he said, eyes scanning your body as you hopped off him and did as he asked. He stood there for a moment, admiring your body as he pulled his boxers off and kicked them off his legs.

“So fucking perfect,” he growled, moving closer to you until he was pressed against you from behind. He slipped his hands between you, fingers gliding across your folds and seeing how soaked you were. His fingers ghosted over your clit, biting his lip when he noticed how wet you were. “All for me,” he mumbled into your shoulder, taking himself into his hand and pumping a few times before he pushed into you carefully but steadily. He waited til he was completely inside you before moving slowly in and out in a perfect steady rhythm.

His hand moved up your body and gripped your shoulder as he pulled you back against him to encourage himself in deeper inside you. The feeling made you scream, head falling back onto him as he started to pick up the pace. He was rough, hand probably leaving marks on your shoulder as he squeezed hard.

“Fuck, squeezing me so tight baby, I can feel it. You like it when you make me feel this good?” he said, you unable to speak through the rough movements of his hips.

“So fucking good Rafe, more,” you begged, hips pushing back into his to make him go deeper. The angle from your arched back made him hit your clit a few times, bodies completely overcome with pleasure by his movements. “More, fuck, need it.” He grunted at your moans of pleasure, desperate for more.

Your hips were no doubt being marked by the wood of the balcony as he kept a rough and steady pace inside you. “Taking me so well, good girl, keep squeezing me,” he mumbled in quick succession as you felt the band inside you threatening to snap. His hand moved up to your throat again, holding onto you as he thrusted into you hard and fast until he felt that familiar squeeze around him and suddenly everything was much - wetter.

He filled you up, hot ropes of cum shooting inside you and painting your walls as he held there for a moment, before kissing your head as he pulled away.

“I better go get your shirt,” you said a little breathless, giggling as your eyes fell down to the discarded piece of material on the driveway below.

He smirked, raising his eyebrows.

“Not done with you yet,” he said, tangling your fingers within his as he dragged you back into the bedroom.

taglist (pls let me know if you want to be added 🥰)

@starkeyobx @lovelyhedgehog44 @jjmaybankmakesmecry @pankhoeforlife @bayy2452 @proactivetypeofgirl @fangirlfree @severa-kane @lovedetlost @pankowperfection @drewbooooo @samxslaughter @valeriiecameron @fiction-is-life @im-julessssss @meadzy2 @onmykneesforrafe @strokesofstokes @penny4yourthoughts @maybankslover @babeyglo @infatuatedjanes @ailee-celeste @malums-trash-can @itsalexwin @kkmstblog

FULL MASTERLIST HERE

#rafe cameron #obx #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #smut #obx smut #outer banks #obx fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfic #drew starkey #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x y/n

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eunoia-writes · 3 months

Text

Knight In shining armour • Felix Catton x Reader

Request - MAKE A FIC WHERE FELIX IS COMFORTING READER AFTER SHE’S HOSPITALIZED CAUSE SHE DRANK THE LACED CHAMPAGNE BUT DIDNT DIE JUST GOT REALLY SICK PLEASE PLEASE!!!🫶🏻

Warnings - 18+ Smut, Oral (M&F receiving, PinV, Oliver being a creep, Drugging

When y/n awoke without Felix next to her it wasn’t out of the ordinary. Felix typically got up before her to go in hai morning

“Morning Darling.” Elspeth said as y/n approached at the table adorned In Felix’s jumper and her usual bed shorts

“Good morning.” She said with a smile while Duncan brought out her usual of scrambled eggs while she made her way to the breakfast bar grabbing her usual multiple spoons of fruit and few slices of toast.

“Felix and Oliver have headed out of the day so I thought you might like to accompany me and Venetia into town to get costumes for the party tomorrow.” Elspeth said taking a sip of her coffee her eyes not leaving y/n as she walked back to the table

“I’d love to.” Y/n said taking a sip of her orange juice “it’s been far too long since the three of us did anything without Felix.” She added while Venetia laughed

“It would be nice to see you without my brother attached to your hip for once.” Y/n blushed slightly, everyone adored how inseparable the couple were especially Elspeth, she loved seeing how smitten her son was, the way he doted on his girlfriend she just adorned how in love he was.

“Don’t listen to her you two are just darling together.” Elspeth said making y/n smile as she finished up her breakfast before rushing off to get ready for the day.

After hours of walking around the streets of London the three girls got back to saltburn. Y/n walked into Felix room to see him sat on the bed as she carried in multiple bags

“Oh Fi I got us the best costumes for tomorrow you’re going to love it honestly.” She began before she realised something was right

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Y/n put the bags down walking over to him as he looked up at her with tears in his eyes “oh my pretty boy, whatever’s the matter.” Felix took a deep breath as he pulled y/n into his lap

“Ollie lied… about everything.” Felix whispered as her hands came to his face wiping his tears away “I mean everything baby, the stuff with his parents… his dad is alive.” The last four words felt like a bullet In her chest.

“Oh.” Was all she said and Felix knew how hurt she was just from that. Y/n had bonded with Ollie over the loss after she lost her dad a few months prior. She didn’t want to believe that someone could be so cruel.

“I’m so sorry pretty girl.” Felix said as tears rolled down her cheeks

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong.” She asked her bottom lip quivering it was taking everything in her not to breakdown sobbing

“I brought him into our lives… I should have known.” Y/n shook her head before kissing him softly

“It’s not your fault.. how were you to know” She mumbled into the kiss before pulling away. She wiped the few stray tears that feel onto his cheeks away before standing back up and clearing her throat.

“Now back to those costumes.”

—

“God baby, you look so fucking hot.” Felix said as y/n came out of the bathroom in her costume. The same gold wings in his back adorned her. The bra, skirt and matching wings combo leaving very little to the imagination. the pair dressed as a Greek god and Goddess which Felix would argue she is regardless of the costume.

“You’re the sweetest.” Y/n leaned up to kiss Felix who’s hands instantly began to roam her body “Fi as much as I would love to stay in your room all night you mother will kiss us if we don’t show after all the effort she’s put into this.”

“Don’t really feel like celebrating.” Felix said his hands on her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck

“I know baby, I’ll make you a deal well go down there and show our faces for a while, have a few drinks and then I’ll finally let you show me round that maze yeah?” She suggested with an innocent smile on her face but the suggestion was far from innocent

“Get moving then pretty girl.” He said wasting no more time making sure to slap her arse as they walked out of his bedroom and down to where the party had already began

“Wow don’t you look hot.” Venetia said as y/n and Felix walked over to her hand in hand the music was already thumping as Elspeth walked over handing the pair a glass of champagne each making sure to tell them how cute there matching costumes are.

“Our dear cousin is out back with something to make this party a little more fun for us.” Venetia said watching the way Felix eyes lit up as he pressed a kiss to his girlfriend’s temple before hurrying off.

The pair had managed to avoid Ollie so far that evening while drinking their way through bottle after bottle of whatever they could get their hands on. Felix had hardly taken his hands off her the whole evening when she suggest a late night stroll, although he knew what she was really suggesting.

The couple made their way outside into the cool summers air, the alcohol in their veins doing more than enough to keep them warm.

“You know the way right baby?” Y/n asked as they neared the entrance of the entirely pitch black maze while Felix had stopped to plant sloppy kisses all over her neck mumbling for her not to worry as she ran her hands through his hair.

Felix took the lead their laughter echoing against the labyrinthine walls, stumbled forward, hand in hand. The scent of blooming flowers lingered in the air as they weaved through the twists and turns, their steps becoming a delightful dance of tipsy synchronicity. Every few steps, he paused, their laughter bubbling over into kisses that tasted of desperation mixed with booze.

“My feet hurt.” Y/n mumbled into the kiss as she kicked off her shoes making her even smaller than her boyfriend who always towered over her.

“Not much longer pretty.” Felix said interlocking there hands once again as they continued into the darkness. The maze, a playground for their intoxicated affection, led them to its heart, where, surrounded by the fragrant maze walls, they shared a final, lingering kiss.

“Wow s’lot bigger than I imagined.” Y/n joked looking up at the statue in the center that towered over the pair of them

“The only thing you should be sayings big is me.” He joked as she rolled her eyes in the moonlight cocking her head to the side as she pulled him closer by the buckle of his belt

“Pretty heard to say that when I’ve got my mouth full.” She teased as she dropped to her knees staring up at him while she fumbled with his belt

“God pretty girl you’re killing me.” And just as he was about to have his way with her a loud snap came from a few yard away

“What was that.” She stopped in place much to his dismay

“S’nothibg baby.” Felix’s hands made there way into her hair as she looked up at him pouting slightly but ultimately brushing it off as she continued undoing his belt and pulling his jeans and underwear down just enough to pull him out of his underwear

Y/n wrapped both of her hands around the bottle of his length her eyes never leaving his as she kitten licked the tip. Felix let out a shaky breath making him tremble in his spot gripping her hair tighter. Her tongue swirled around his tip before she took him into her mouth her head bobbing up and done and she took more for him each time.

“Fuck just like that.” Felix groaned as her throat tightened around him as she gagged slightly briefly coming up for air before wrapping her mouth around him again she moaned around him as he let our a rather loud moan

“Such a good girl.” He groaned which only encouraged her she kept up her exact pace feeling him tense in her throat.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum.” He said mere seconds before he finished in her mouth with a groan watching as she swallowed him and licked up any mess. Flashing an innocent smile just to top it off.

“God what are you doing to me y/n.” Felix waisted no time tucking himself back into his boxers as he scooped her up placing her on the base of the statue wasting no time attacking there lips as he stood between her thighs his lips trailed down to her neck she let out a soft wine as he found her sweet spot

“Up.” He mumbled into her neck telling her lift her ass up so he could pull her underwear down shoving them into his back pocket while he continued sucking marks on her neck.

He left a trail of open mouthed kisses down her chest to right were she needed him the most before pressing a kissed against her clothed heat “please.” she moaned he smirked looking up at her once more as if he was asking permission

“Fi.” She wined once more before he blew hot air over her swollen clit before diving in. his tongue traced her folds before he lapped at her clit. Y/n’s back arched, electricity bolting through her nerves. Her hands flew to tug at his hair as he lapped at her clit feverishly so Desperate to taste her. He caught her off guard slipping a digit into her, groaned into her when your legs locked around his head, securing him in place. Not that he needed it. He’d stay here forever if she’d let him.

“Please Fi .” She moaned his fingers pumped in and out of her while his tongue made work on her clit. her thighs tremble and eyes roll back into her head. One hand grip the Stone she was sat on her knuckles white, while the other tugged at his locks. The pressure in her abdomen built but so does something else, something deeper at the same time. Felix took note pulling away

“you taste just Devine pretty thing, but not so fast I’m not finished with you yet.” He said as she whimpered at the loss of contact.

She watched as he pulled himself out of his boxers leaning down it kiss her again before he lined himself up with her entrance before he sank into her both of them gasping at the feeling.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned. She was appreciative of his slow thrusts her constant wines were evident of that.

Y/n’s legs wrapping around his waist pulling him closer as his hips rocked back and forth

“Faster.” She groaned in his ear as she clenched around him. His free hand moving to wrap around her throat squeezing slightly as his hips moved faster.

Y/n opened her eyes for a few seconds spotting someone in the distance. She let out a gasp pushing Felix off her as she attempted to cover herself

“Ollie what the fuck!” She said as she realised who had been watching them. Felix fumbled to cover himself up before protectively standing in front of y/n.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Ollie.” He said while y/n grabbed into his arm

“We need to talk.” Ollie slurred as he made his was over to the couple. Y/n climbed down off the statue staying hid behind her boyfriend

“You’re a fucking liar Ollie.” Felix said as Ollie got closer and closer

“How could you Ollie, after I confided in you.” Y/n said snatching the bottle of champagne out of his hand chugging most of what was left

“I know I’m so sorry y/n… I really am.” He said but she just shook her head and walked away from the pair cradling the bottle as she wobbled while she listened to Felix and Ollie argue

“You need to leave Ollie.” Felix said his eyes flickering to y/n was was now slightly hunched over

“You’re still my friend? We’ll all still be friends right?” Felix didn’t give him an answer before he rushed over to y/n which Ollie took as his que to leave

“Felix.” She said as she started to go dizzy. Y/n reached out for him while he grabbed onto her

“I don’t feel good.” She whispered before her legs gave way. Alarmed, Felix scooped her up in his arms, concern etching his face.

“Stay with me, baby.” Y/n mumbled something drowsy, her eyes struggling to stay open. Felix, with a sense of urgency, began navigating the maze's twists and turns running as fast as he could carry her

“No baby keep your eyes open.” He said as he held her head up with one hand. As he neared the house he spotted Elspeth seeing a group of her friends off by there cars

“Mum!” He yelled out catching her attention, noticing the distress, she rushed over, her face turning from joyous to concerned.

“I don’t know what happened, no baby keep your eyes open for me.” Felix said once again noticing the way she was struggling to stay conscious “y/n, look at me.” He said as Elspeth rushed them towards the car calling out of Duncan.

Felix sat y/n in the back seat sliding in next to her while his mother told him she’d get the rest of the family before telling Duncan to drive to the hospital as fast as he possibly could while she climbed into the passenger seat.”

“M’tired.” Y/n mumbled incoherently as she fell limp into Felix said

“I know baby, I know but you’ve gotta Stay awake for me.” Felix’s heart was in his throat he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Felix, what happen? Did she take something?” Elspeth asked Felix had never shook his head so quickly

“No mum, she would never. she was fine a few minutes ago.” He said the panic in his voice evident he head tears in his eyes as y/n kept mumbling nonsense to him.

“Love you Fi” He heard her say before she fell unconscious

“Drive fucking faster!” He yelled hitting the back of the seat as he tried to shake her awake but it wasn’t working

“Calm down Felix we’re almost there.” Elspeth said in reality she was also just as panicked. She loved y/n like her own she couldn’t bare the thought of something happening to her.

“I can’t fucking calm down!” He yelled and as soon as they turned into the hospital Felix wasted no time rushing her inside begging for help. Multiple doctors came rushing over taking him from her arms discussing things amongst themselves.

Felix stood frozen in the middle of the room, the weight of fear anchoring him to the spot. The harsh light overhead accentuated the pallor of his face as doctors fired questions about what happened with his collapsed girlfriend. His voice caught in his throat, and his limbs felt like lead, rendering him incapable of articulating the events that led to this moment. The fear consumed him, the uncertainty of y/n’s well-being tightening its grip. Just when the anxiety threatened to suffocate him, the hospital door opens and Elspeth entered, a comforting presence amidst the clinical sterility. Her eyes met Felix's, conveying a silent reassurance that he wasn't alone in this ordeal. In that shared gaze, a glimmer of strength returned to Felix, grounding him in the support of his mother amid the overwhelming uncertainties of the hospital room.

Elspeth took over the questioning answering every question she possibly could as a nurse took Felix into the waiting room where he sank into one of the chairs terrified for y/n’s life. A few minutes later Venetia, his dad and Farleigh came rushing into the room. No one said a word.

Venetia took a seat next to her brother taking his hand in hers trying to offer him some sort of comfort in the horrific moment. The reality of the situation had completely sobered him up the adrenaline of the alcohol wearing off.

“Felix, darling have some water.” Elspeth said handing Felix a plastic cup that she had filled with the water sat off to the side of them. His hands shook as he took a sip of the water finally speaking up for the first time since he’d let the doctors take y/n from his arm.

“I won’t be able to live if something happens to her.” It was almost a whisper but everyone heard it

“She’s going to be okay.” Farleigh not only told Felix but also himself and everyone in the room for that matter all of them having the same sinking feeling.

“But what if it’s not.”

In the hush of the hospital waiting room, Felix ensnared in a web of anxiety, perched on the edge of a hard plastic chair. His knees are caught in a restless rhythm, an involuntary dance fueled by the uncertainty of y/n’s condition. The minutes stretch like elastic as he nervously glances at the clock, each tick amplifying the echo of his worries.

Unable to contain the nervous energy, Felix succumbs to the urge to pace back and forth across the linoleum floor. His steps are uneven, a physical manifestation of the emotional turbulence swirling within. The harsh fluorescent lights cast shadows that play on his strained expression, the weight of concern etched across his face.

Meanwhile, His family huddles nearby, attempting to offer solace in whispered words and gentle touches. Their eyes mirror his apprehension, but they muster comforting smiles and attempts at casual conversation, striving to create a shield against the suffocating atmosphere of the waiting room.

The air is thick with anticipation, each passing second an agonizing reminder of the unknown. Felix, caught between the pull of hope and the gravity of fear, finds solace neither in the uncomfortable chair nor the sterile surroundings. All that matters is the impending news about y/n’s well-being, an answer that lingers just out of reach, teasing the frayed edges of his nerves. What felt like an eternity later a doctor came into the room everyone’s attention on them

“I’m Doctor Robinson I’m y/n’s doctor Today.” The woman started but before she could get another word out Felix croaked

“Is she okay?”

“Y/n is doing better than we could have hoped for her case, you did the right thing getting her here when you did. Her toxicology came back and it looks like she ingested a lethal amount of benzodiazepines which we believe after conversation with Elspeth to be as a result of spiking in something she will have drank at the party this evening.” The doctor explained everyone felt a weight lifted off there shoulders as they said she was doing better

“Can I see her?” Felix asked

“She’s not awake yet, however you are more than welcome to sit at her bedside until she does wake up.” Felix shoot up out of his seat almost instantly the others silently agreeing to let him go alone as he followed the doctor to her room.

Felix heart broke as soon as he walked into the room seeing y/n laying there with multiple IVs stuck in her arm. He chocked back his tears as he made his way to sit next to her taking his hand in hers.

At what felt like only moments later as if she was awoke by his presence she was finally conscious again. Felix kiss the back of her hand as he thanked god for keeping her safe

“Hey pretty.” He whispered softly as a few tears rolled down his cheeks she smiled softly at him squeezing his hand

“Hi.” She croaked out her eyes half open. Her entire body ached as she reached out to wipe his tears away “Don’t cry Fi, I’m okay.”

“You scared me so much baby.” He said as more tears rolled down his cheeks

“god if you had - but I didn’t and I’m okay.” She said knowing where his train of thought was going. She shuffled herself to one side of the bed making room for Felix next to her as she patted the spot which he waisted no time climbing into

“Did they tell you what happen?” She asked as she got comfortable on his chest as Felix petted her head. Felix let out a sigh not sure how to approach the topic.

“The doctors said you had a lot of benzodiazepines in your system.” Felix started and he felt her tense up

“What- I don’t do that kinda thing… I’d never.” She said as tears rolled down her cheeks

“I know baby I know, mum knows that too everyone knows you’re not like that.” He whispered y/n had always made it gleaming obvious she didn’t like the idea of every taking drugs while she never judged those who did she couldn’t bare the thought of losing herself to drugs the way her father did.

“Then how?” She asked knowing exactly how but she needed him to say it

“The doctors think something you drank was spiked.” Felix said and her heart sank. Saltburn was supposed to be a space space where she didn’t have to worry about stuff like that. A place where nothing bad could possible happen.

“You don’t think…” she started and Felix knew exactly what she was hinting at. Ollie. The only thing she had drank that she hadn’t opened the bottle or poured herself was the champagne she snatched from his hands.

“I… I Really fucking hope not.” Felix whispered just as Elspeth and everyone knocked at the door wanting to check in y/n themselves

“Oh darling, I’m so glad You’re okay. You had us all worried sick.” Elspeth said rushing over to y/n’s bedside who gave her a weak smile

“Is there anything we can do or get you?” James said standing next to his wife placing a comforting hand on her shoulder

“I would really just like to go home.” Y/n said and just as Venetia was about yo say she’d go speak to the doctor Felix spoke up

“No, you can’t go home yet.” He began looking down at her “you need to stay here and get better.”

“Fels, I’m okay I just need to rest.” y/n said just as her doctor walked into the room

“Ah y/n, glad to see you’re awake.” She began as she picked up her chart from the end of the bed “I’m sure Felix here told you, we found a lethal amount of benzodiazepines in your system which is what caused you to lose consciousness. If it wasn’t for your lovely family getting you here when they did we’d be looking at a very different outcome.” Y/n squeezed Felix’s hand softly nodding to what the doctor was telling her.

“For now I suggest you go home and rest up take it easy for a few day, which I’m sure everyone in this room will see too that you do and make sure you’re drinking plenty of fluids.” Y/n looked up at Felix while the doctor went to collect the discharge papers

“See baby, I told you I’m okay.” She said as he leaned down to kiss her softly

“I’m so glad you’re okay pretty.”

“Well Im lucky I have you, my knight in shining armour.”

#felix catton #felix catton fanfic #felix catton fluff #felix catton imagine #felix catton saltburn #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton blurb #saltburn

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 1 month

Text

School Pick Up.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here !!

authors note - these photos just screamed dad!harry so enjoy ☺️

word count - 700

in which, harrys on school pick up duties for his little one, and it’s his babies favourite time of the day when he sees his best friend, his father standing at the gates.

Harry stood patiently at the school gates, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow around him. His daughter, Indigo, was finishing up her day in school any moment now, and he couldn't wait to see her.

With his signature pink phone case pressed to his ear, he listened intently to his wife, (Y/N), who was asking him to stop by the shop on the way home to get some bread.

"Hey, lovie, everything okay?" Harry greeted warmly, a smile playing on his lips as he leaned against the gate.

"Hi, H. Could you do me a favour and pick up some bread on your way home? We're fresh out, and you know how Indi loves her beans on toast after school," (Y/N) requested, her voice carrying a hint of urgency.

Ah, of course.

Since Indigo had started school back in September, each day after school either you or harry would whip her up some beans on toast, it was like her little treat for getting through the school day because god knows she hated going to that place.

Most morning you would drop her off and she would be hysterical, clinging onto you like a tearful little monkey crying out that she wanted her ‘daddy!’

"Of course, no problem. Anything else you need?" Harry replied, already mentally adding bread to his list of errands.

"No, that's it for now. If I remember anything else I’ll text you, Thanks, baby," (Y/N) said gratefully, her tone softening with appreciation.

"You're welcome, lovie. See you soon," Harry said, already looking forward to their reunion.

As the school bell rang, signalling the end of the day, Indigo's teacher led her class out of the building. Being in reception, Indigo's class was among the first year groups to come out.

The children, still buzzing with energy from the day's activities, chattered excitedly as they followed their teacher in a neat line.

Indigo, with paint smudges on her uniform and her brown hair now a tousled mess from a day of play, eagerly scanned the crowd of parents waiting at the gate.

Her heart leaped with joy when she spotted her dad, leaning against the gates. With her bag hanging off her shoulder, she couldn't contain her excitement.

"Mr Anderson, look, there's my daddy!" Indigo exclaimed, tugging at her teacher's sleeve to get her attention.

Her teacher smiled warmly and nodded, understanding Indigo's eagerness to reunite with her father. "Go on, Indigo. Have a wonderful evening."

With her teacher's permission, Indigo dashed towards Harry, her small feet barely touching the ground as she called out,

"Daddy!"

Harry's heart melted at the sight of his daughter running towards him. He pushed himself off the gate and opened his arms wide, ready to catch her.

As Indigo reached him, she threw herself into his embrace, her laughter filling the air.

"Hey, my indi girl!" Harry greeted, lifting Indigo up and spinning her around, his heart brimming with love and joy.

Harry placed her down on the floor before heleaned down to Indigo's level, a playful glint in his eyes. "How was school today, sweetheart?"

Indigo's face lit up with excitement as she recounted her day. "It was really good, Daddy! I played with my friend Tommy, and we made a castle out of blocks in the sandbox."

Harry chuckled, tousling her hair affectionately. "Tommy, huh? Sounds like y’had a blast. But y’know the rule, no boyfriends until you're thirty-five, alright?"

Indigo wrinkled her nose in mock disgust. "Ew, no, Daddy! Tommy's not my boyfriend. Boys are yucky!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at her exaggerated reaction. "Oh, really now? Well, s’a relief. M’not ready for you to have a boyfriend just yet."

Indigo nodded vigorously, her brown hair bouncing with each movement. "Me neither, Daddy! Boys are gross!"

Harry smiled, feeling a surge of affection for his daughter's innocence. He squeezed her hand gently, grateful for these lighthearted moments together. "S’my girl. You focus on having fun and being yourself. No need to worry about boys just yet."

Indigo grinned up at him, her dimples deepening. "Okay, Daddy! I'll remember that."

"Alright, Indi, it's time to go home and see Mummy," Harry said, gently guiding his daughter away from the school gates.

Harry brushed his finger over her knuckles, “You know what that means indi girl?”

She gleamed up at him, dimples shining. Before exclaiming:

“Beans On Toast!”

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bellaxgiornata · 2 months

Text

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Eight]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.4k

[Summary and Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader, mentions/fear of miscarriage

a/n: It's been awhile since this fic finally had an update, but here y'all go! Make sure you heed the added warning for this chapter--mentions/fear of miscarriage will be found in this update. Feedback is always appreciated!

Holding the soft cotton baby pajamas up in front of yourself, a faint smile ghosted over your lips. Unconsciously your left hand dropped down, landing on the swell of your growing bump as your eyes traced the cute pattern of white bunnies prancing around the yellow fabric.

As you stood there staring at the pajamas in your hand, you could see a picture beginning to clearly form in your mind. A little baby with a dusting of dark hair like Matt’s was cradled in your arms, wearing this onesie. A clearly exhausted Matt shuffled his way into the bedroom, heading over towards you with a prepared bottle in his hand, his eyes half-lidded. His tee-shirt was wrinkled and stained with a bit of old spit up near the collar, but he clearly hadn't bothered to change. The only thing he seemed concerned about was his daughter in your arms.

When he reached the pair of you, he extended his arms out to take her from you, eager to feed her. You passed her gently off to him, watching as he held her so carefully in his arms, pulling her in towards his chest like she was the most fragile thing on Earth. And then he'd lean down towards where she was cradled in the crook of his arm, talking in hushed tones with a broad smile on his face as tiny fingers reached up, brushing along the stubble of his jaw while he spoke.

An expression full of warmth and love broke out across Matt's face, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he gazed down at the little baby in his arms hungrily drinking down the formula from the bottle with happy, soft little squeaks and grunts. That glimmer of love in his eyes only grew more as he glanced back up at you, a smile full of joy and pride stretched wide across his mouth despite the fact that it was three in the morning.

“I cannot believe you're having a girl!”

The sound of Marci’s excited voice had the mental image quickly fading from your mind. Tongue feeling suddenly thick in your mouth, you blinked back the tears threatening to spill forth as that smile on Matt's face vanished from your mind completely.

It had been a beautiful image while you'd imagined it, at least.

Clearing your throat, you set the pajamas back onto the display table. Your gaze lowered to your bump, your hand affectionately running across it.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Finding out I'm having a girl definitely made this feel even more real than it already had been.”

“Are you going to tell Matt?” Karen asked from behind the display table, her blonde brows high on her forehead. “That you found out you're having a girl?”

You nodded, your attention returning to the little yellow onesie you'd set back down. Running your fingers across the fabric, an ache hit you hard in the chest. You did your best to ignore it.

“I am, yeah,” you replied, glancing back up at her. “But I just found out this morning and I…don't exactly know how to tell him, you know? We've exchanged a few texts since he stopped by the other week and dropped off that pregnancy pillow and weighted blanket, but things are still a little odd between us. And I feel like this is news you share with the father in person, not in a text.”

“So you've been talking?” Marci asked curiously.

You watched as she pulled a tiny hanger from the rack she was looking at, lifting up a small green dress and showing it to Karen. The pair audibly cooed at the little outfit.

“A little,” you admitted to her. “It's hard for me to talk on the phone with him because hearing his voice is just…hard. It makes me wish things were like they were before.” The smile on your face faltered as you stepped away from the table, glancing at the vastly overpriced baby outfits on another nearby rack. “I admitted to him that phone calls are still a bit much for me, so he's been texting instead. Even though I know how irritating the speech to text feature on his phone is to him. So I get it. He is trying.”

“Certainly hasn't bailed yet,” Marci muttered, hanging the dress back on the rack. “Which I'm honestly proud of him for.”

You caught the pointed look Karen sent you and you sighed, aware of what that look meant.

“Yeah, I've noticed,” you confessed. “I see he's trying to be present. I see how emotional he gets at the thought of not actually actively raising this child. But here's the thing,” you continued, both women now focused on you. “I'm bringing a baby into this world, right? I'm not adopting a puppy. We're talking about a little human. Someone who's going to be shaped by their parents and how they're brought up and raised. Someone who is completely dependent on us to take care of them for years . And meanwhile, Matt does…well–” you waved a hand in front of yourself, “– that in the evenings. I think it's only realistic that I'm concerned about how serious he is when it comes to actually being there for the both of us after how he wasn't there for me the one time I needed him. I need to know I can actually count on him, especially when things get difficult. Or exhausting. Or if there's an emergency. The city can’t always come first, even if I admire him for what he does.”

“But he is trying to show you that,” Karen pointed out gently. “He messed up and he knows that. Believe me, he does. And while I completely understand your side, it's not like Matt isn't trying to earn your forgiveness and prove all of that to you, too. But it's sort of dependent on you giving him a chance to show you that.”

Running a hand across your forehead, you nodded. “I know,” you told her softly. “I know. Which is why I've been trying to give him that chance. It's probably better that I do before the baby comes when emotions will be even higher and things will be more complicated.”

Eyes dropping down to your feet, you nervously chewed your lip. You’d been leaning towards giving him that chance he’d so desperately and repeatedly been begging you for ever since he’d last stopped by, especially after seeing how much the thought of not being an active parent to his child really upset him. But that didn’t mean you weren’t still scared to give him that chance. To open up and let him back in knowing he could hurt more than just you this time.

“It’s just hard to willingly let him back in after what happened. After how he'd hurt me. Because I’m honestly afraid of getting hurt again,” you confessed. “And not just me, but I’m scared of his daughter getting hurt. Of him not being there for her like she’s going to need him to be.”

“You know, I’m surprising myself by saying this,” Marci chimed in, “but I agree with Karen. At first, after hearing the news that you were pregnant, I absolutely could not picture Matt wanting to be a present father with how much he does, well, you-know-what at night. But with how much he’s been over at our place talking to Foggy and I the past few weeks?” She shook her head, tsk’ing lightly. “Let’s just say I fear for the man, woman, or child that dares to say a single mean word to his daughter. I mean that man is fiercely protective over the both of you. I don’t think you have to worry about him not being there when either of you need him.”

Something warm slowly filled you at Marci’s words. Something like a tiny spark of hope. You hadn’t known he’d been going over to their place and saying these things, worrying about the pair of you so much. Granted, you hadn’t spoken to him much in months now so you didn't really know what he'd been up to lately.

“Really?” you asked her, the threat of tears returning for a different reason.

Both Karen and Marci nodded their heads firmly, your eyes jumping between the two. That spark of hope burned a little hotter in your chest.

“He’s still in love with you,” Karen told you before pointing a finger at your belly. “And I can assure you, he loves that baby just as much as he loves you already.”

Crouched on the corner of a six-story apartment building’s roof, Matt’s head dipped and turned as he tried to remain focused on a conversation occurring in a nearby warehouse. He was doing his best to block out all the other distractions around him–like the sounds of car horns and the traffic below, sirens screeching in the distance as an ambulance made its way to the hospital, or the various arguments coming from inside the building he was perched atop.

Something was happening tonight in his city. He could feel it.

But as he tried to follow the conversation occurring half a block over, another noise abruptly broke through his carefully crafted concentration. Matt's gloved hands gripped the edge of the roof at the sound of it, his head instantly darting over his shoulder as the noise quickly overtook the sound of everything else.

Truthfully, he’d been attempting not to eavesdrop on you lately, trying to respect your wishes when he was out at night. Honestly he had been, too, especially since you’d actually been talking to him again, letting him in a little more even if it was only through texts here and there over this past week. He hadn't wanted to risk ruining the progress he'd suddenly made with you by trying to push your boundaries any further.

But he absolutely couldn’t ignore the sound of distress coming from you in your apartment just a block behind him.

You were crying. But not just crying in the usual way someone would if they were sad–something mournful and soft. No, it was a heart wrenching sound. Despairing. Painful. A noise that felt like an ice cold hand had gripped his own heart in his chest and squeezed .

Something was wrong.

A pained noise came from Matt as he rose to his feet, instinctively turning in the direction of your apartment. One booted foot took a step in your direction before he immediately halted in place. Gritting his teeth, his mind raced with a myriad of thoughts.

There was definitely a shipment of drugs being moved around in Hell’s Kitchen tonight, he’d absolutely learned that much from the conversation he’d been eavesdropping on. He had been on the cusp of uncovering where it was currently being held. All he needed was a location and he could alert the authorities to handle the rest. The streets of his city would once again be marginally safer because of him if he did.

And you had already repeatedly asked him to stop appearing at your apartment as Daredevil and invading your privacy. If he showed up now, that would surely appear to you like he wasn’t respecting your clear boundaries. Which he knew wasn’t remotely true, but would you understand if he explained that he was just too in tune with you to not subconsciously pick up on a sound of distress like that coming from you ? That he couldn't exactly control his senses picking up on it?

Matt’s gloved hand ran across his mouth in frustration, his eyes snapping shut behind his mask. He was torn.

Did he force himself to ignore your cries in order to not possibly upset you further? To keep respecting your boundaries and to leave you alone like you’d repeatedly asked him to? Which would in turn allow him to attempt to focus on finding that drug shipment tonight instead, something he'd been determined to do. Or did he go to you?

Teeth still grinding back and forth, Matt fought to decide on the right course of action. But at the sound of a particularly heart-wrenching wail coming from your apartment combined with something like the noise of you falling down, his eyes snapped back open and he made up his mind. He didn't care if you threw things at him and yelled him off your fire escape when he showed up. There was absolutely no way in hell he was going to ignore whatever was happening in your apartment. Even if it meant he’d have to show up at your front door and beg you to forgive him on his goddamn knees for the next several months. He needed to make sure you and the baby were alright.

Taking off at a sprint, Matt darted across the roof he was on and headed straight in the direction of your distress. He barely registered much else in the city as he flung himself over rooftop after rooftop, the sound of his own panicked heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. He was focused solely on you and the continued sobbing in your apartment, trying his best to keep his mind from racing to a number of terrible reasons as to why you might’ve been this upset.

By the time he’d made it onto your building’s rooftop, he quickly dropped down two floors until he landed with a solid thud on your fire escape. He heard your terrified intake of breath from inside your apartment, the sound of your head swiftly turning in the direction of where he was outside your window. He felt bad for startling you as he reached a hand out, knocking on the glass.

He expected you to start shouting. To tell him to go away. To tell him that he was an asshole who couldn’t respect your privacy. That you didn’t want to speak to him anymore because of it. Maybe to throw something at the window even.

What he did not expect was the way you softly sobbed out his name in a way that sounded almost like relief. Or the way your hands had clawed at the couch cushion beside you as you pulled yourself up to your feet, rushing over to the window as more fresh tears spilled down your cheeks.

When you opened the window, the sharp, heavy scent of fear met his nose. The acrid tang was strong in your apartment, almost overpowering the salty taste of your tears in the air. And the sound of your racing and erratic heartbeat was roaring loud in his ears, mingling with the still frantic beating of his own heart. He could barely focus on much else as his own fear levels began to rapidly rise.

And then you surprised him yet again.

Your hands reached out through your window, grabbing desperately onto his shoulders and practically pulling him inside of your apartment. Speechless and concerned, he allowed you to drag him through the opening, moving as fast as he could to get to you. Though the way you whispered his name again as he climbed inside your apartment had his heart constricting in his chest.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he whispered. “What happened?”

He'd barely had a chance to stand upright before your hands on his shoulders yanked him towards yourself. Your arms snaked around his neck, drawing him into a tight embrace as you buried your face right into the armor of his suit as more tears began falling down your cheeks. A strangled sob left your mouth, the heartbreaking sound partially muffled against his body.

Matt didn't hesitate. He wrapped his own arms around your waist and wrenched you in tight to the front of himself. His eyes closed as he buried his face into your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of you. Desperately he wished you were holding him like this under different circumstances because he'd missed you these past few months.

But something was wrong and he needed to focus on that right now.

“Sweetheart, you're scaring me,” he whispered, tears burning at his own eyes behind the mask. “What's got you so upset? Did something happen?”

You murmured something unintelligible against his chest, the words too muffled and disjointed for him to understand.

“What?” he asked.

You pulled away from him, sounding as if you'd turned your head to look up at him as he reluctantly unburied his face from your hair. A large sniffle came from you before you answered him, this time more clearly despite the tremor in your voice.

“There was blood.”

It took Matt a moment to register what you'd said and what you meant. But when he did, he felt something ice cold flood his veins.

“I woke up a bit ago and needed to go to the bathroom. Like usual,” you explained softly. “And then I noticed that I–I was bleeding.” You sniffled again, your voice quivering more noticeably as you continued. “And it scared me. Because I'm terrified that–that something is wrong. With the baby.”

Matt's stomach dropped as you buried your face back against him. His gloved hands gripped your back tighter as he tried to remain calm and process what you'd said.

“Was it a lot of blood?” he asked nervously.

You shook your head against him. “No. Not a lot. Just enough to notice it.”

“Okay, well that's good at least,” he said, running a soothing hand along your back as he tried to keep himself calm. “You're around twelve weeks now, right? It's not entirely abnormal for some bleeding to occur. I don't hear any cramping occurring and–” his head turned, his eyes narrowing as he focused hard to hear the baby's heartbeat over the panicked noises of your own body, “–the baby still seems to have a steady heartbeat in there. Which is–is good. From what I remember reading, that's a good sign that nothing is wrong. It's the first thing a doctor would check for to make sure the baby isn't in any danger. But if you continue bleeding we can certainly get you to a hospital, sweetheart.”

You drew your face partially out his chest, sniffling loudly yet again as Matt continued to stroke your back. It sounded like you had looked up at him, your tears gradually slowing. He focused back down on you, one hand leaving your back to gently brush some hair away from your damp cheeks.

“How do you know all that?” you whispered.

He shrugged a shoulder lightly, his hand still gingerly removing the damp strands of hair from your face that were stuck by tears. “I spend my free time reading up on pregnancy-related things,” he admitted softly. “So that I can maybe help if you need me. In situations like this.”

He heard the faint surprised intake of breath you'd taken at his answer, so quiet you probably hadn't even realized you'd made the sound. He felt your arms wrapping tighter around his neck, holding him close as you buried your face back against his chest. Despite how good it felt to have you back in his arms, Matt focused his senses back onto your body, doing his best to concentrate on the baby for a minute in the silence that filled your apartment.

“I'm not a doctor,” he murmured, still listening, “but nothing sounds different than what I've usually heard. I don't notice any more bleeding, and the lack of cramping is a good sign. Baby's heartbeat seems to be really strong.”

Matt cleared his throat, turning his attention back on you. Your body had calmed in his presence–something that made him feel good but he was afraid to overthink about the why . Though your body still sounded panicked and stressed, something that concerned him.

“Maybe it's best if you take a seat and try to relax,” he suggested gently. “The stress probably isn't good for you or the baby. Let's just focus on calming down now, okay?”

“Right,” you said, the air shifting around you as you nodded against him. “You're right. It was just a little blood so I'm–I’m probably overreacting.”

“You're not overreacting,” he told you, guiding you carefully back to the couch and settling the pair of you down into the cushions. “You were scared. It's understandable.”

Matt sat down on the couch beside you, surprised once more when you scooted closer to him. He reached a hand up, removing the cowl from his head with one hand while running his other through his unkempt hair.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered.

Matt's hand froze in his hair, his attention swiftly focusing on you. “Sorry for what, sweetheart?” he asked.

“For probably scaring the shit out of you tonight,” you replied. “I'm guessing that's why you showed up, right? You heard me freaking out?”

Matt smiled sheepishly back at you, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I wasn't trying to listen in to your apartment, but you sounded so upset that I couldn't help but overhear you when I was out. I was afraid you'd be upset with me showing up though, because I know you’ve wanted me to stay away, but I couldn't just ignore you like this. I had to make sure everything was alright.”

He heard you sniffling again, your hands wiping at your eyes. Carefully he slid his arm around your shoulders, moving slowly in case he was crossing a boundary and you wanted to tell him to stop. But instead you moved even closer to him, eliminating the space between both of your bodies as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You leaned in, resting your head against his shoulder. A small smile slipped onto Matt's face, his own head carefully lowering to rest atop yours.

“Thank you for coming to check up on me,” you whispered. “I feel better with you here.”

Matt's heart thudded hard in his chest, that cold feeling of dread finally melting straight out of him as he held you against his side. You actually wanted him here. You were comforted by his presence, not upset by it. After the months apart from you which had felt like torture, hearing that had felt far too good.

“I'll always be here when you need me,” he assured you quietly. He hesitated a moment before softly adding, “Though I certainly wish I could be here the times you don't necessarily need me, too.”

He felt your head turn along his shoulder as you settled even more comfortably into the side of him. Your body was relaxing further now that the pair of you had sat down. But Matt could hear just how tired you really were from the sounds of your body and he figured the scare you’d just had hadn’t helped.

“I know,” you replied softly. “Maybe we should have a talk about that. About things between us.”

Hope fluttered in his chest at your words, excitement flooding through him at what that talk might mean. He absolutely wanted to be back in your life far more than he currently was, but he knew right now wasn't the time for that discussion, not after what had just happened and considering how exhausted you sounded to his ears.

“Maybe I can take you for coffee this weekend and we can discuss things,” he said, hoping he didn't sound as over-eager as he felt. “Tonight let's just focus on making sure you and baby are both okay.”

Your head shifted along his shoulder and Matt could feel the way your eyes were on him now. Then he felt the sudden nervous energy that washed over you just before you'd opened and closed your mouth a couple of times. Clearly you wanted to say something but didn't seem to know how. He sat there quiet and patient beside you, wondering what you were struggling to get out.

“This is probably not fair of me to ask considering our…situation,” you eventually began, your nerves apparent to him in your tone, “but could you maybe please stay here with me tonight? In case something does happen?”

That hope in Matt's chest grew further at your question, his body feeling like it could float up through the ceiling right now if he wasn’t more focused on the feel of you at his side. He made you feel safe. Even after how awful he'd been to you and how that had led to the break up, you still wanted him here. To protect both of you. Maybe he hadn't messed things up entirely beyond repair like he’d been worried about for weeks. Maybe he could fix things.

Maybe you could actually want him in both of your lives again.

“I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't ask,” you began in a rush when he hadn’t answered. “If it's too much to ask, I completely understand. I just don’t really want to be alone and–”

“I'll stay,” he assured you, his hand reassuringly squeezing your shoulder. “I told you, I'll always be here when you need me. I want to stay and make sure you're both safe.”

He heard you release the quietest sigh of relief, your body once again relaxing into his side. In the silence that followed, he also swore he heard a smile draw itself across your lips with how close he was listening to you, the muscles ever so minutely shifting along your face.

“You know how I mentioned that blood test?” you asked, breaking the silence a minute later. “The one where I could find out baby's sex and whether we're having a boy or a girl?”

Of course he knew exactly which blood test you were talking about. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it all week. He figured with what you’d told him about how long it took to hear back from your OB that you already had the results by now. It had been a struggle for him not to text or call you all week to ask you what you’d found out instead of focusing on his work that week. He’d been so eager for the news.

“Yes,” he answered. “I remember you telling me about it.”

“Well, I got the results yesterday morning,” you said slowly. “Did you…want to know what they were?”

It took everything inside of Matt to not blurt the ‘yes’ he gave you too fast. Though he’d grabbed your shoulder tighter in his grip, struggling to contain his excitement in anticipation of the news.

“We’re having a girl,” you told him.

Matt’s eyes snapped shut, a large smile spreading wide across his face. A girl. You were both having a little girl. A little version of you running around. Maybe she’d grow to have the same laugh as you, the same laugh he missed hearing in his apartment ever since you’d left.

“I can’t wait to meet her, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m sure she’ll be just as perfect as you.”

You curled up further against Matt's side, something like an embarrassed scoff leaving you. But as you sat there cozied up to his side, another thought crossed Matt's mind. One he'd thought about often lately.

Nervously he chewed his lip as he focused on the sound of his daughter’s thankfully continuously steady heartbeat. Turning his head, he glanced down in your direction. He could feel the way you’d once again shifted against his shoulder, looking up to meet his eyes no doubt. There was something he’d been dying to do for weeks now, but he wasn’t sure if now was an appropriate time to ask, or if it would somehow make you uncomfortable. But he figured he’d try anyway.

“You can certainly say no,” Matt began cautiously, “and I would respect your answer completely. But…would it be alright if I could see if I could feel her moving yet? Is that too much to ask?”

You didn't answer him outright; instead he felt you reach your hands over towards him and pick up his right one. With ease you undid the straps of his glove, gently sliding it off of his hand before tossing it over onto your coffee table. Afterwards you slipped his hand up beneath your shirt, just over the slight bump his hands weren't used to feeling on you. His eyes closed again as he tried to concentrate his senses on your body in a way he'd never done before. A smile returned to his face as he felt you rest both of your hands over the top of his while he focused. He missed the simple feel of your touch.

It took Matt a few moments of concentrating before he noticed something ever so faintly shifting beneath your skin, something he’d never have been able to pick up on if it wasn’t for his senses. A soft, surprised chuckle fell out of him when he felt the faint shift again of what must’ve been a limb moving. There was no way for him to know whether it was an arm or a leg, but it was his daughter alive and well inside of you. The knowledge of that had tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

“What?” he heard you ask.

“She's moving,” he whispered in awe. “I can feel her. It's faint, probably because she's still so small, but I can–can feel her.”

Your hands tightened over the top of his, the sound of your heart fluttering catching Matt's attention as he continued to focus on the baby growing inside of you. He wasn’t sure if your reaction was from the tear that had suddenly slipped down his cheek or something else, but it didn’t matter. Because this moment was easily one of the happiest he’d ever experienced.

With a huff you readjusted your head along your pillow, eyes opening once again in the darkness of your bedroom. You'd been having trouble falling and staying asleep tonight, too stressed about the bit of blood you'd found that had upset you earlier. Thankfully there hadn't been anymore tonight, but despite Matt's repeated reassurance, you'd felt embarrassed about getting distressed so quickly.

You'd just been so terrified waking up, still partially drowsy, to find that bit of bright red on the toilet paper when you'd gone to the bathroom. The fear that you'd somehow lost the pregnancy at the sight of it had immediately panicked you, because in these past few months you'd grown so completely attached to your little Devil. The thought of losing her–especially now knowing they in fact were a her–was too much.

Knowing Matt was out there sleeping on your couch in the living room hadn't been helping you to fall asleep, either. Not because you didn't feel safe with him here, but because it just felt wrong that he was asleep on the couch. He'd never slept anywhere else but in bed with you in the past, and honestly you couldn't imagine your couch was all that comfortable. Especially to him of all people.

And truthfully, if you were being honest with yourself, it was because you wanted him in bed next to you. Not down the hall, but right here where you could feel that he was actually with you. Where you could feel his comforting presence. Because you really did miss him.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you tried to listen to the sounds in your apartment. For a moment you laid in bed, trying to hold your breath to see if you could tell whether Matt was asleep or not out in your living room. But as you sharply expelled the breath seconds later, the only noise you'd been able to pick up on was that of the city outside.

Another few minutes passed where you laid there contemplating whether you should just try to close your eyes and fall back asleep, or actually get out of bed and ask Matt to come join you. But you weren't sure you should even ask anymore from him tonight, considering he'd clearly been interrupted from Daredevil-ing because of you. And then he had offered to sleep on your couch afterwards when you'd asked him to stay. Asking him to then come join you in bed–while you both were still broken up–seemed like such a gray area.

But at the same time, you were carrying his child. And you'd been afraid that something serious had almost happened tonight, and clearly he'd been just as concerned. It was obvious with the panic written on his face even behind the mask when he'd initially shown up. And he'd stayed . He could have left when he realized things seemed to be okay, but he didn't. And while it was only one situation that the pair of you'd encountered, it had meant a lot to you that he hadn't just left you.

The pair of you were planning to get coffee together and talk this weekend too, so was it really all that bad to go out there and ask him to stay with you in your bed?

For a while you just continued to lay there, your mind racing back and forth trying to land on an answer. Ultimately it was the memory of Matt shedding a couple of tears from earlier tonight when he'd felt your little Devil move–something you hadn't yet even managed to experience because you were not far enough along–that had you tossing the sheets off of yourself and climbing out of bed.

Barefoot, you shuffled out of your bedroom before padding down the short hallway. When you reached the living room, you came to a stop just at the edge of the hallway, your eyes drawn to Matt. He was laying on your couch, his body curled in what looked like an uncomfortable position on the small piece of furniture. He had squashed a couch pillow up underneath his head, his eyes closed as he lay there. The plush blanket you always had on the back of your couch was draped over his lower half, but it was clearly too small to cover him fully as he lay there, his bare upper torso partially exposed.

He looked like he was asleep, probably worn out from a long day at work and a night out as Daredevil before you'd gone and interrupted it. You'd almost turned around and gone back to your room, not wanting to disturb him, but then his eyelids flew open. Almost immediately his head rose from the pillow, his gaze landing on you across the room as a look of worry crossed his face, his brows drawing together.

“Sweetheart?” he asked. “Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

Awkwardly you leant up against the wall beside you, your hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You shook your head, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“No,” you whispered. “Nothing is wrong. I just can't really sleep. My mind is too loud.”

The worried crease between Matt's brows slowly disappeared as he pushed himself upright on the couch. The blanket that had been draped across him slid down, revealing more of his bare chest in the dark room. He'd clearly been trying to sleep in his boxers since the suit would have been too uncomfortable, and for some reason that only made you long for the comfort of his warm skin cuddled against yours in bed.

“Is there something I can do to help?” he asked.

Running a hand nervously through your hair, you tried to ignore your increasing nerves. You figured it was best to get to the point and just ask for what you wanted, leaving the decision up to Matt after that.

“Would it be too much if I asked you to stay with me?” you whispered. “Not on the couch, but actually with me? Just for tonight?”

“If that's what you want,” Matt replied. “I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I assumed you'd prefer me to stay out here, especially because I don't exactly have anything to sleep in.”

You shrugged a shoulder, glancing down at your bare feet. “That doesn't exactly bother me,” you told him, aware he could hear the truth in your answer. “I just don't want to be alone after earlier. And I'd feel a little better if you were with me.”

Matt removed the blanket from his lower half, his own bare feet landing on the floor. Rising wordlessly from the couch, you watched as he maneuvered around the coffee table like he'd done so many times in the past before he made his way to you in nothing but his boxers.

Hesitantly you reached a hand out, entwining your fingers with his when he neared. Turning in the hall, you guided him down the length of it and back to your bedroom. Matt easily followed your lead, his soft footsteps echoing yours as you led him into your room and towards the bed.

You released his hand when the pair of you reached the foot of the bed, making your way over to the side that was always yours. Matt continued on his way to the side that had always been his, his fingertips lightly dragging over the comforter as he moved.

Climbing back into your bed, you felt the mattress dip under the weight of Matt settling onto the other side. You smiled a little to yourself as you tried to get comfortable on your side, wrapping your legs around the pregnancy pillow Matt had gotten you the other week.

“Would you prefer me to stay on this side, or…?”

Matt's question hung in the bedroom, his meaning clear despite him not finishing it. Tongue darting out to wet your lips, your head turned just over your shoulder towards him as you answered.

“You don't have to tonight.”

Without waiting for further invitation, you felt Matt shift along the bed closer to you. His warm hand carefully landed on your hip, halting there for a moment as if testing your boundaries. Then very gradually his palm slid downwards until it was gently cradling your bump over your shirt. His warm body slowly sidled up to the back of yours and your eyelids lowered, your body relaxing at the safety and familiarity of him.

“Thank you for being here,” you whispered into the dark.

Matt's fingers traced a light pattern over your stomach, the gentle touch causing a warmth to linger in their wake.

“I'll always be here when you need me,” he whispered back. “From now on, I promise you that.”

The smile on your lips grew a little wider as your own hand sought out his. Your fingers entwined with his over the growing swell of your bump, like a protective barrier that the pair of you were making between the world outside and the little life growing within you. Then gradually you finally fell asleep.

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this-is-music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @babygorewhore @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71511-blog @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon @karolamurdock @theoraekenslover @mr-underhills-things @jennifer0305 @capswife @amazexng @blackhawkfanatic @ladywholikesreading @powellssaturn @sunflower-tia @indestructeible

[I have no idea why some of these tags aren't working 😭 If I misspelled something please let me know!]

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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hawkdaddy1111 · 4 months

Text

"Let the light in."

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Implies: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Reader is a Jujutsu sorcerer, Gojo Satoru is whipped, Eventual fluff, Idiots in love, crying.

Fueled by numbing drinks and emotional turmoil, you end up at the doorstep of your ex; Gojo Satoru.

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: I love hurt/comfort fics more than anything<3 let me know what you think of this!! I was debating on whether to post it or not but damn did it hurt while I was writing it😭.

🖇Masterlist

Rain.

Drenched and with glistening cheeks from the pouring rain, you stared at the door you had just knocked on. Your gaze lingered, yearning for it to swing open, revealing a glimmer of light and perhaps a semblance of comfort. Strangely, you couldn't quite pinpoint the reason for your presence at this mysterious doorstep.

Your mind was hazy and your steps were jittery, The scant clothing you wore offered little defense against the downpour, just further adding another layer of disarray to your already puzzled mind.

Midway through raising your fist for another knock–

The door swung open.

A pregnant pause enveloped the moment as the realization of the situation settled in. The door, now ajar, revealed not just an entry but a connection to a pair of piercing blue eyes.

Time seemed to momentarily stand still.

“Satoru…?”

Just seeing a glimpse of him is enough to make you blink back tears.

“Are you drunk?” you heard him mutter.

The rhythmic thud of your heart echoed in the charged atmosphere, words caught in your throat as you confronted the consequences of your actions. A replay of the night surfaced – the bar, the numbing drinks, and the desperate quest for comfort.

Your body and brain are contradicting each other.

"Sorry…" you slurred, the word left you as an apology for the late night disturbance and your presence as a whole.

You weren't supposed to be here, it was unfair for the both of you, it was so hard for you to move away, to move on.

the heaviness in your head amplifying with each step as you reluctantly turned to leave, rain-soaked and disoriented.

But a firm grip on your wrist halted your retreat.

"Are you?" Gojo's gaze bore into yours as you blinked back at him, eyes struggling to stay open, managing a feeble nod.

His gaze swept across the quiet streets, revealing a haunting emptiness accentuated by the relentless rain that cascaded with increasing intensity. “Are you crazy?”–

"Come in," he urged, the concern evident in his voice. The soft glow from his house spilled onto the wet pavement. He insisted, "It's late at night. I can't let you go back home on your own like this,"

You paused, caught in the gaze of those blue eyes— the ones you once thought would be a constant in your mornings, a promise of forever.

You gulped, nodding with qualm to his request.

you followed him into the warmth of his home. The familiar scent of his space enveloped you, and the soft glow of lights chased away the chill from your rain-soaked clothes, immediately welcoming you in.

You found yourself wrapped in a blanket, the contrast between the chilly exterior and the comforting interior adding layers to the gnawing familiarity of your surroundings.

A shiver coursed through you, prompting you to nuzzle further into the blanket, only to be enveloped by his lingering scent.

Your heart ached .

Alone in the room, memories whispered from the corners, carried by the very walls that had witnessed the laughter and shared secrets of days long gone. The familiar surroundings stirred a montage of moments – the subtle echoes of shared jokes, the surprise takeouts he would bring on a Thursday, the warmth of lazy Sunday mornings, and the quiet conversations that once filled the spaces now hushed in solitude.

For a second time, you tried to blink away the tears.

Gojo returned with a steaming mug as the aroma of a familiar herbal tea wafted through the air, the same one he would make you on days where you fell sick, or just as similar as the one the two of you would share on a cold December evening.

"Here... sit tight," Gojo gestured towards the couch behind you. You followed his suggestion, sinking into the cushions as he settled on the other side.

Sipping the tea brought instant comfort, a soothing ease that washed over you as it gradually sobered you up. With trembling hands, you clung to the mug as if it emitted a warmth capable of dispelling both the chill in the air and the uncertainties weighing on your mind.

A noticeable silence enveloped the both of you, a departure from the animated persona you were accustomed to. The Gojo you remembered was made of noise, echoing vitality loud enough to permeate the neighborhood. This uncharacteristic quietness left a void, making you long for the boisterous energy that once made each moment pulse with a vivid sense of life.

In fact, it was so ear muffling that you started hearing distant laughs of old memories trickling back into your mind, it was as if the walls of this room spoke volumes of the hours the two of you spent in the comfort of one another.

“You okay?” He finally broke the silence and it seemed to pull you right out of your trance. You turned your head towards him, only to find his eyes lost in the empty void of the television ahead.

“Better.” You replied– slightly moved by his concern.

Your eyes fell to the mug in your hands, seeing a glimpse of your face before you lightly shook it for the ripples to wash away your reflection.

You cleared your throat, trying to deviate the conversation away from your mental state, “Still using that tea I bought?”

You could see him shift in his place from the corner of your eyes, letting an arm drape on the couch as he thought of what to say, “I actually finished that container, so I had to buy another one.– Good stuff, you know.”

“Really? Never knew you were a tea enthusiast.” You raised your eyebrow, he only used to make it for you, rarely ever for himself, was it really because he liked it?

He sighed, still not meeting your gaze, “It happened recently, it does relax me after a long mission.”

You hummed, taking another sip as silence enveloped the air once again. “Collecting Digimon cards no longer relaxes you?”

His head perked up.

"Wanna know something funny? remember that one card I tried so hard to get?" Gojo's voice carried a distinct edge, a mix of triumph and something else, prompting you to pause and turn toward him. He reached for his phone with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

When he showed you the screen, your eyes widened in disbelief.

Tyrannomon Series 2 Gold Stamped (2000)

“What?! You actually bought it?”

“It's supposed to come in tomorrow.”

“I'm actually speechless– for how much did you even buy it?”

“Not telling.~” Gojo's playful grin slowly made its way back to his face, ever so slightly.

“Okay, mysterious. I'll just imagine an exorbitant number then.”

“Should have seen Yuji’s face when he first saw it hehe,” A subdued laugh slipped past his lips, looking back at his screen.

“Oh wait, How are the kids doing?” You asked once again, out of pure curiosity.

At least, talking to him as if nothing happened did distract you from your constant heartbreak.

“My students? Better than ever, they're improving everyday, I had to give Mei-san 10 million yen to recommend them though.” he grinned at the mention of his students, rubbing the back of his head.

“You brided Mei-san into recommending your students?” Your eyes met his, raised eyebrows but really– was it that much of a surprise?

“When you put it that way…” He trailed off.

“10 million yen on top? You're going to go broke at some point.”

He pouted, looking at you almost offended in which you just softly smiled, “Hey… I know how to invest my money.”

You added, “I'm sure they deserved it though, after hearing what happened in the exchange.”

“They did.” He smiled, you could almost picture it as a soft branded-dad smile.

It's like nothing was wrong, and everything was back to where it belonged, it felt like any other day where you would cuddle up in his arms and talk about the most random things.

The only difference right now is the distance between the two of you, to each had their side of the couch.

Your hands instinctively clutched the edges of the blanket that enveloped you, fingers intertwining with the fabric as Gojo's words hung in the air.

"I... They miss you," Gojo spoke, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of longing. "You should really pay them a visit."

The room held a heavy silence as you wrestled with the weight of his suggestion. Your gaze lingered on a distant point, somewhere between memories and the present.

Your lips parted as if to respond, but only silence spilled from them.

"Seriously... They talk about you all the time," Gojo continued, his words slicing through the quiet like a bittersweet melody.

"Who am I kidding? I miss them too," you finally admitted, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken sentiments. "...It's too painful."

“Do you plan on avoiding anything that has to do with me forever?”

“Ignoring it might make it go away, right?”

“Did it?”

You shifted uncomfortably as you held the half empty cup delicately between your hands. Your gaze remained fixated on it, as if searching for answers in the dwindling remnants of a forgotten brew. The room held a hushed stillness, punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards, bearing witness to the quiet struggle within.

You heard him speak your name, but this time, there was an intricate softness to his tone.

“I told you that I'll always be there for you. No matter what happens between us.” His soft voice resonated in the quiet living room.

“Avoiding me won't erase the memories we shared, the love we had,” Gojo's voice held a soothing quality, a hint of desperation laced within his words.

The love we had.

It's not supposed to hurt but it does, and the way he's saying it so effortlessly–

You looked at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears, the alcohol dulling the ache in your chest. "It's not about erasing the memories, Gojo. It's about surviving without them." Your voice wavered as you struggled to maintain your composure.

A heavy silence settled between the two of you, broken only by the sound of the storm raging outside. The air crackled with unspoken emotions, the weight of your past relationship hanging heavily in the room.

“'Always' feels like a cruel deception when 'now' is so different from what we were," you murmured, the rawness of your emotions laid bare.

“I know things have changed, but that… doesn't mean that I don't care about you–”

You cut him off. “I can't–”

“Please–”

“I just need space! And no, I won't be hanging out with your students nor talk to you. You have to know that your support is a double edged sword.” Your grasp tightened against the mug yet he still persisted.

“You literally showed up to my doorstep drunk. You obviously needed someone."

“Key word, drunk. You think I came here on my own sober account? I even offered to go and save you from any trouble but you didn't let me.”–

“Yeah, drunk.– your words. If you thought for any second that I’d let you out there in this state in the middle of the night then you’re dead wrong.” His jaw clenched, leaning slightly forward to add, “Look– I just… want to be there for you. Regardless of our past, can't we find a way to coexist without it hurting so much?”

It's like he wasn't even listening –

“The mention of your damn name hurts, and the thought of being next to you while being nothing to you fucking haunts me! You think I'd voluntarily sign up to constant pain everyday because the strongest wants to be there for me? Don't make me laugh, I'm already having it hard as it is.”

The tension in the room just suffocatingly grew.

He retorted as his eyes narrowed, “You think it's easy for me? You think that I'm having a field day every fucking time they bring you up?”

"What I'm saying is that I just need to find a way to navigate through this mess, and constantly being reminded of us doesn't make it any easier for me either!” Your voice– once again, broke as you tried to state.

“We fight curses, we risk our lives everyday– we can't afford to feel like normal people.”

A heavy silence lingered in the room, broken only by the faint sound of raindrops outside. Then, abruptly, the rain ceased, leaving an unusual quiet between the two of you. The room, once filled with emotion, now held an eerie stillness, as if the universe itself paused to acknowledge the weight of your conversation.

Pausing, he ran a hand through his hair while softly muttering, “That's the main reason why we broke up.”

Your career was really destroying your life, huh?

For the third time, your tears were so adamant on breaking through.

“I should probably go.”

Did letting him go even do anything good to your life? You've been sulking around the entirety of your time ever since the two of you called it quits, so what exactly have you done this entire time? Drink away your feelings? Ignore your duties for something as trivial as a breakup?– worst of all, in the kind of career you pursue? Oh you weren't mad at him at this point, you were mad at yourself.

So mad at yourself that you can't move on from him–

All because he was… perfect, he always remembered your most important dates of the year, he always spoiled you with gifts, he always showered you with affection, he was always just there.

In every lingering stare, the gentle touch of a finger tracing down your jaw as you slept, the tender forehead kisses, the warm embrace that scooped you up from the ground after a long day of work, or the silent interludes you shared, he left an indelible mark.

No one has treated you with that much care in the world, and he was so clueless to that fact.

He was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of person; you'd bet on anything that you'd never encounter anyone quite like him again.

And now you were walking away from him.

You swiftly placed the porcelain mug on the coffee table, carefully removing the blanket he had given you. Standing on your feet as a cascade of cool air enveloped you.

“...Huh?” He watched you deftly pull out your phone in a matter of seconds, strands of your hair were still sticking to your forehead and your clothes were just as soaked, stubbornly clinging to your form.

This was ridiculous, going to your ex’s house in the middle of the night like it was some kind of K-drama? Embarrassing, now you'd really have to avoid him forever.

“I have a mission tomorrow anyway, and look, it stopped raining, I can just call in a cab and I’ll be gone.” The words, though matter-of-fact, carried a hint of something more.

“Wait–” You moved towards the door, your steps purposeful, as he stood up from the couch, a palpable urgency in his attempt to catch up to you.

Something had to be done.

When you reached for the door, you halted your movements, fingers lingering on the cool surface.

Something just had to be said.

"Satoru,”

This was probably the last time you'd allow yourself to be near him, why not let it all out? It's better than leaving with regrets over unsaid things…. Right?

Your heartbeat raced against your chest as you took a shuddering breath.

“Wanna know why it's so hard for me to move on?”

Your back was facing him, yet you could feel him keep a generous distance, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate moment unfolding. His gaze, though distant, seemed to pierce right through you.

Your hands turned into fists as you gulped.

“You’re… probably the best thing that happened to me,” the words hung heavy in the stifling silence.

"I'm not sure if I'll ever find someone like you, to be frank. Hell, even if there was someone like you, they'd never be you. I already miss everything – your jokes, your smile, your sweets addiction, your eyes, your everything, really…” A familiar glob formed within your throat as your tears started to threaten leaving the corner of your eyes, you sighed, adding, “I'll miss your silly addiction to collecting Digimon cards or… just waking up in your arms every morning.– gosh this hurts.”

The world seemed to have quieted down, as if the two of you were the last ones standing.

"Right now, I need to let go... even if it means losing the best part of me. As selfish as it is… I just… had to see you one last time." You turned around to meet his widened stare, helplessness glimmering within them. As you tried to smile one last time to the fresh blue of summer, the vulnerability in his gaze mirrored the ache in your heart. “I'll make sure to carry on with our memories, even the most painful ones.”

The way he looked at you was devastating you, he looked so helpless–

“I'll always choose you no matter what life we’re in…”

It's almost as if everything stopped.

“Thank you for everything, Satoru.”

Was this what you wanted? Cutting him off completely?

He can't.

He was going through it all over again, where his best friend left him not once, but twice. And now here you were, practically leaving him for the second time—after you had knocked on his door.

He can't go through all of this again, he already hated it just as much the moment he let you leave through this door for the first time.

The existence of the blue you had known off had become overwhelmingly intense.– Everything just skipped a few frames.

Because right now, you couldn't register what was actually happening, or when it exactly happened.

Your back pressed against the door, knees weakened, and your hands clenched onto the fabric of his shirt. Uncertainty hung in the air, a silent battle within you, unsure whether to pry him off or pull him closer. The tension between longing and restraint wove a delicate dance, and his lips practically left you no space nor time to speak.

“I can't let you go again.–” His hand was latched onto your throat to press you even more against him– as if he was trying to erase any distance from between the two of you once and for all, his lips were firm, smashing against yours as your breaths mingled, you could feel the warmth of his body radiate to ease your cold– soaked state. “W-wai Sator–.”

“I'm so sorry– I can't.”

“I missed you.” The tears that built up throughout the entire night finally trickled down the corner of your eyes.

“I missed you so damn much–”

He muttered a series of ‘I can’t.’ between his kisses and in your attempt to pull away for a breath, he only deepened the kiss, pressing his lips onto yours with a fervent passion. Your legs became entangled, the closeness reaching a point where the boundaries between you blurred. Your hands instinctively gripped his shirt, grounding yourself at the feeling of his tongue against yours.

You weren't sure if it was your tears or his that were rolling down your cheek at one point.

You should stop– but why was he kissing you? He started it.

He pulled away, his shaky hot breath lingering against your glistening cheek.

You locked eyes, both breathing heavily in the aftermath. His cheeks and ears glowed with a rosy hue and the corners of his mouth were swollen; you felt like it was your first kiss with him all over again.

Now you really understand why you never wanted to let him go.

You needed him.

He rested his head against your neck, his arms wrapping your waist while he muttered, “Sorry… I had to be a little selfish as well.”

It's like your mind went blank, unable to register the reality of this moment, unable to move or think.

You felt him tense against the lack of your response, only to further relax into you when you slowly brought your hands to his hair, one tangled to his soft strands, and the other brushing against his undercut. Your chin trembled as salty tears continued to pour down.

“you can't… just say all of that and expect me to let you go through this door.” Satoru uttered against your neck, his arms tightening around you, “not when you chose to come to me.”

“I missed you so much. too much– I thought I was losing my mind at one point. I even held onto an empty tea container because you gave it, then you showed up here after months of ignoring me– I thought I was dreaming, I tried to play it off like nothing was wrong even though everything was wrong. the amount of control you have on me is scary.” he sniffed and moved away from your neck, bringing his left hand to your cheek to wipe away a tear before softly kissing the wet trails left on your face. “Loving you is scary.”

“But I need you.” he left a delicate kiss on your eye.

And he needed you.

“ Please.”

“I would happily die of old age– as lame as it is for someone like me. Just if it meant growing up alongside you.” another kiss was left on the corner of your lips.

He pulled away, finally revealing the overwhelming softness in his eyes, his gaze looking at you and only you.

With that, the hands tangled onto his hair pushed him forward to meet your lips in a sweet and passionate kiss.

“We’re idiots,” you muttered against his lips.

He agreed, pressing a kiss on your chin, “We are.”

“We shouldn't have let each other go.” another kiss pressed against your jaw.

“Never.” and another on your neck, he paused.

“Be mine again? I'd make sure to never let you go again.”

“I never stopped being yours.” he smiled softly at your answer.

“For every life we might share together?”

“To the very last one.”

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #hurt/comfort #reader x character #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo satoru x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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mywritingonlyfans · 8 months

Note

hi, i like the last one xx could you do one with cillian where she briefly feels insecure about being with him, maybe because of her age, and he fucks her into safe space. thanks xx

it's not big but i hope you liked it! (it's smut; fem oral, riding and some missionary, but it's comfy and goofy). 3K words.

...

Yours. // Cillian Murphy X Reader! (Smut)

You appeared distant, your gaze unfocused, but it was evident that your unease had nothing to do with sadness caused by him. Silence filled the car, a departure from the usual comfort it provided between you. Your eyes were fixed on the road, avoiding his, a shift that had taken place sometime before leaving the party. As he drove, he lightly brushed his fingers over your knees, his touch gentle, leaving his hand there for reassurance once he realized that you weren't feeling unwell because of him. Your delicate hand touched his, fingers playfully interlocking, and you found solace in that simple contact. He found himself smiling gently at the gesture.

"Do you want to talk, doll?" he inquired, acknowledging your discomfort. You shook your head, still displaying signs of a troubled mind. He respected your response, considering revisiting the topic at a later time. It was intriguing to think that even with his eyes half-closed and his fists clenched, he could sense that something was amiss with you. He disliked seeing you worried, getting a sight of you like that did that to him.

Upon arriving home, things unfolded as usual. He shed his blazer as you removed your coat, and in the midst of heavy breaths, he embraced you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His arms wrapped around you with tenderness before you pulled back slightly. No words were exchanged, but he stood there with you. Persistent tears welled in your eyes, emotions too strong to contain. You had hoped to avoid this; thinking that you would just sleep with him intertwined the way you loved, and by morning, everything would be clear. However, you now felt that you couldn't do that, you needed his extra warmth to help this pass, even if you wished it could just pass on its own.

In your mind, avoiding moments like this would possibly make you seem more mature in his eyes. But all he really wanted was for you to feel comfortable enough with him, that any of your concerns could be shared with him. After all, he loved you, and it was only fair that you’d both be a safe space for each other. Cupping your face, he carefully kissed you, and you responded with slow, pleasurable movements, allowing him to guide you through it. Gradually, he kissed away your tears, until a soft smile broke through your silent tears. You embraced him, seeking solace in his chest, finding his embrace unlike any other. He kissed the top of your head in silence, waiting until you let go calmly.

"I feel so silly," you whispered, wiping your cheeks with your hands and allowing his eyes to comfort you. In truth, he held no judgment in those eyes.

"You're not," he said, his voice strong yet comforting. It could whisk away your worries and clear your mind. "If it's bugging you, then it ain't silly," he added, his hands resting easy on your waist, fingers pressing gently. He motioned for you to settle on his lap as he made himself comfy on the couch near the entrance. A soft chuckle slipped from you, and his gaze locked onto yours. This time, the silence felt easygoing, and you held his eye until you felt like talking. He had a knack for calming you down.

"I'm kinda feeling a hint of jealousy, not a big deal, but it's niggling at me. But I want you to know it's not 'cause I don't trust you. That ain't it," you explained. Your body was rigid and your hands cold. He nodded, giving you space to keep going if you wanted. A shiver trickled down your spine as you held him closer, the hug cozy, every inch of his frame against yours. You could feel the warmth of his chest as he responded with a comforting sigh. Despite the run-in with that woman who'd tried to get his attention earlier, he hadn't even hesitated to brush her off. By now, he'd forgotten what her face looked like.

"I'm all yours," his words felt like a lullaby, urging you to nestle into the crook of his neck, his scent enveloping you as he molded himself around you. The way he said it, so sure and free of doubt, soothed you. You held on tighter, your legs wrapping around his waist as he chuckled softly and shifted to make sure you were comfy. Slowly, his hands started to wander over your dress. Even though it was kinda sensual, his touch and the way he looked at you were more about admiration than anything else.

"I get that," you giggled, your cheeks turning a bit hot as you admitted it. You knew he'd never given you reason to doubt. He nodded and his fingers brushed your chin, his blue eyes tracing every feature on your face. "I'm having trouble wrapping my head ‘round it, babe," a tiny wrinkle formed between his brows, showing his confusion. A gentle kiss from you smoothed it out.

"She was pretty attractive, and she's your age," you sighed, your words getting caught in your throat. "I get you don't really care about that stuff, ‘bout her, but you can't always predict who you might fall for, you know? And it scares me that it could happen, even if I can't explain why it’s bothering me so much right now..." He listened close, catching some of it, and he felt grateful you were sharing your feelings with him, even with you worrying over nothing. But he couldn't lie that he had his own fears about losing you and he'd circled around these thoughts sometimes too. Seeing you upset tugged at his heart.

"I love hearing what's on your mind," his warm hands traveled up your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze as he pulled them closer. He wanted you to feel heard. You nibbled your lip, a tingling creeping up your face. He chuckled, like you both knew where this was heading. "I think you're perfect, this dress makes you even more stunning, and I love how confident you get when you're with me. And I love how you look at me," his cheeks and nose had a cute flush. His voice dropped low, like it was meant for you only, and you laughed with your eyes at him.

It was good to watch because most of all, he was still shy, and it was remarkable, but he wanted to see you well.

"Do you ever think you might fall for someone else?" His question had you shaking your head right away. You couldn't imagine finding anyone even close to him, or even having room to think about it. "I know I couldn't. I'm so caught up thinking about you, there's no space for anyone else. And I love that," you nodded, his words resonating deep inside. As you brought his lips to yours, you relished the surprised sigh that escaped him. Although the kiss ended softly, he held your face firmly, his earlier intention still clear in his mind since leaving the house.

"You're my girl," he affirmed, brows serious and jaw clenched. Your blood was already pumping through your veins at that declaration. Your fingers found the first buttons of his shirt, undoing them coolly and freeing a bit of his bare skin while his words echoed in your head, his gaze intently fixed on you. Your hands slipped inside his shirt, and he relaxed as he felt you trail your touch from his chest hair to his shoulders. "Can I unbutton all of them?" you asked sweetly, anticipation lacing your voice. God, he wanted to show you right there that there'd never be anyone for him but you. He nodded, your trembling fingers undoing the last few buttons. It was cute how you got a bit flustered in these initial moments, as if you'd never been in them before. He could never get much of that.

"I sorta need you," your breath hitched, and he chuckled, understanding. "I can feel it, little one," he took your hand in his and kissed it, then you traced the sharp line of his cheekbone and ran your thumb over his freckles. He closed his eyes, and you found yourself melting into his embrace, adoring the more pronounced lines of his expressions, the way they smiled and relaxed along with him, making it clear that he didn't regulate his age with yours. But it was lovely. He was so attractive, in a way that was hard to keep up with when he was this close. You brushed his hair away from his face and touched your lips to his forehead, placing kisses along his nose, cheeks and down his neck, and over his shoulders until you found your way to his chest. Your body was restless, and while you might not have recognized it, he could feel the heat building beneath you. He let out a low grunt, spreading out across the seat as you wriggled on top of him, peppering him with kisses and playful bites.

"I think I should show you just how much you're my girl, don't you think?" His voice was firm, sending shivers to your soul. His hands were thicker, more striking than yours, and you couldn't help but notice the contrast. He motioned for you to stand in front of him, and you obliged. Things moved in their own time, but in your perspective, everything seemed to slow down, your stomach churning with anticipation.

"I don't want any bad thoughts lingering in your head, not even the most fleeting ones, got it?" Still seated, he lifted the hem of your dress, placing wet kisses on your thighs until he reached your lower belly. His nose nuzzled into your skin, so gentle it made you feel slightly guilty for being this desperate. Cillian chuckled as he observed how readily you lifted the fabric to give him better access, and with his eyes on you, he trailed his fingertips along your pulsating nerve, seemingly begging for his touch. You pulled back a little, but he shook his head. "Don't move, little one," he anchored your hip with a firm grip, his fingers circling the area, your body involuntarily pressing into his touch for more. He let out a deep, drawn-out sigh as he felt you make his tips lightly sticky through the thin fabric. His throat tightened as his temples throbbed, his body yearning to feel you melt under his mouth as you always did so wonderfully.

Without dragging it out for too long, as he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it for much time, he delicately interlocked his fingers with the hems and pulled them down. His lips moistened as he saw the lace peel off you with some difficulty due to how damp it was. And sure, there was indeed a wet patch on your panties. For balance, you grasped his shoulders, squeezing eagerly with a pleading gaze, and he shut his, kissing the area, his mouth watering and devoid of prior thoughts. He held you firmly in place and licked from the center up, gathering your essence on his tongue, his eyes closing in pure pleasure at being able to feel you. Yours clenched shut, and your mouth fell open as you experienced the warm sensation and perfect pressure of how he sucked you, as if it truly granted him as much bliss as it did for you.

You gently grasped the back of his head, urging him closer, and you could sense him smiling as you struggled to remain composed for him. As you caressed his soft hair, he nuzzled the tip of his nose against your clit before sucking it between his lips, causing you to moan so wantonly. He was already a mess, lost in your scent and taste enveloping him, while you panted breathlessly. When you opened your eyes and saw his hair, those delicate tresses, both ash and dark intertwined in a chaotic dance, you became a bit more alert, tugging on the strands to have him look at you. He deserved your attention that night too; you didn't want this to go unnoticed.

With his eyes locked onto yours, your body still trembling, you found your words stuck in your throat. He was just as desperate as you, though he concealed it well. The snug trousers he wore due to his position, and the zipper left open, which you only noticed now, made you wonder how uncomfortable he was. "Can I ride you, babe?" Your voice was soft yet mesmerizing to him. He appreciated how you always asked, an act so delicate for such a moment, but it had become characteristic, and he would certainly miss it if you changed.

"I want to be good for you," you whispered, and he couldn't deny that even if he tried as he shed the layers of fabric that held your disapproval. He marveled at how flustered and nervous you sounded, unable to control both your mind and your senses at the same time. And in a matter of seconds, you were on his lap once again, your head nestled on his shoulder as he kissed your neck and face, and you began to grind against him, your touches growing more fervent.

As he burned against your skin, he lifted you, albeit clumsily, hoisting up your dress and letting you settle onto him with a prolonged groan, your needy hands clinging to his arm. You held onto him, your muscles quivering as you gazed into his calm eyes, his expression relaxed as you took your time to adjust to him. You were sore and wet, feeling him all over you, full and comfortable, even if not fully stretched due to your eagerness. But every second was worth it.

You worked your way onto him, lifting yourself slightly and settling back down, taking him all into you. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky and accentuated, filling you up completely. “Aren’t you, doll?”

His words took effect on you, and his gaze held the purest contentment as he watched you stumble through forming responses, not that he needed them. His movements were slow, letting you take the lead. Your lips were slightly parted, legs tightly wrapped around him. In fact, you were only holding yourself together because he was supporting you. The straps of your dress slipped to the side, gracefully as if watching a painting dry. Assisting you, he squeezed your thighs, using his thumb to press between your legs, exerting pressure on your clit. Your body immediately responded to the extra stimulus, and you collapsed onto him with a slight moan.

"It's okay, pretty girl, I've got you," he whispered amidst more persistent sighs, his hands gaining a rhythm against your hips, making your body more relaxed and ready to accommodate him. You rubbed yourself on him just beautifully. His lips grazed your collarbone, wet kisses and nips tracing over your exposed skin. He lowered the straps further, your breasts on display for him, in a gentle sway prompted by you. He took one in his mouth, your nails grazing him, marks he knew would be left, but he relished in it. He sucked on the flesh, releasing it with a wet sound before giving the same attention to the other, fingertips skimming over the erect nipple and then warm tongue soothing you through it all. Your hands tangled in his hair, a sound escaping him as he rested his forehead against yours, leaving you even more soaked. Your legs grew sluggish, and you found yourself grinding against him more than riding, a detail he didn't miss. He lifted with you briefly, and soon you were lying on your back, him atop you. His face was still close, breath mixing with yours in the warm space between you. You clung to his shirt collar firmly, both for control and to keep him close, and he chuckled. "Please, I'm aching, Cill," your vision blurred as tears formed, your body trembling without any movement from him. He trailed the tip of his nose across yours, his hair falling onto your face, which you brushed aside to kiss him better. You hugged him tight, curling into his chest, and gradually, air filled your lungs as your body was brought up and down with his.

"You're being so good to me. Look at what you do to me, fuck. How could you even think you're not just mine, and only mine alone?" His voice was disoriented, husky and staggered, clearly needing to focus intently to sound coherent. And then his gaze locked onto you, eagerly waiting to take in every last bit of it. He was gentle, even in his urgency, and you loved that he knew your body so well that you didn't have to tell him what you needed; he was exactly what you needed. With him deep inside you, feeling your senses growing restless, he braced his hands above your head, applying more pressure, your eyes closing as he held you close. The tears running down your cheeks that would soon be kissed clean. He loved to watch it. He whispered soothingly for you to calm down, sweet nothings while he thrust you through that sensation until your mind was filled with his rough, broken moans as he peaked along with you. His body collapsed onto yours, the weight becoming comfortable, his fingers tracing lines among the scattered freckles on his back, and he didn't fail to kiss your exposed skin. "I love you," you said, breathless, his hand affectionately running over you. You were right; you'd fall asleep next to him, entwined, and wake up with a clearer mind. You could already imagine waking up in his shirt, going to sit on his lap while he wore his glasses and had a book ready to be put aside for your more important presence. No one else could bring you the comfort he did. He settled beside you, both your breaths gradually returning to normal, and just before his lips brushed yours in a smile, he whispered in his lazy voice, "I love you, and I'm yours, only yours, my girl."

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x y/n #fanfic

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fortheb0ys · 7 months

Text

PHILLIP GRAVES × TOP MALE READER

I want to spend the rest of my life fucking and sucking Graves😫👍Not proofread and kinda sucks cause I wrote this sleepy. FEM & MINORS DNI!!

Graves was your little bitch. He knew it. You knew it.

His men probably now know it by the way he was moaning like a whore grinding against both your clothed cocks together.

"Come on, Y/N. L-let me take it."

"You sure there? Looks like you could cum right here."

"I w-want it inside." Graves whimpers, feeling himself come undone.

"What's the magic word, sir?" You grab his hip, making him stop his movements. Graves tries to wriggle to try and get some friction but your grip was too strong.

"P-please, Y/N. I want you to cum in my ass." Graves felt his cheeks reddening, embarrassed at the sound of his own voice.

Your baby amused you. He was the captain of your team and but it seems like he would be the one calling you 'sir'.

"Well, since you asked nicely, I guess I'll give you what you." You say while patting Graves' hip to signal him to left his weight off for a moment while you take off both yours and his pants and underwear.

Graves moans as his erect cock touches the cold air.

You fall back onto Graves' desk chair, making him settle into your lap. You begin searching his bottom drawer for your secret lube but Graves' hand grabs your wrist tightly, stopping you.

"I'm ready. P-promise."

"Sir, we gotta prep you. I didn't wanna hurt you, sweetheart."

"No, really. I'm ready."

Graves reaches behind himself to pull out a dark green buttplug that was hidden between his perfect ass.

"Oh, you weren't lying. And staying on brand I see." You say as a large smile adorned your face.

"Yup. I played with myself this morning and was hoping we'd get a little fun time." Graves matches you smile, happy he'd finally get his ass stuffed with your cock and not just a plug.

"My smart commander is always prepared, isn't he?"

"Yep-yep. Y/N's smart boy."

You pull out the plug. Graves let's out a moan. He tightens to feel the drag of the toy against his walls.

At this point Graves was shaking like a leaf. Overwhelmed and coming undone. Only you, his precious little soldier could make him like that.

"Hurry, Y/N! That's an order." Graves commands as you position the tip of your cock at his entrance

"Sir, yes, sir." And without any further wait you slam into Graves, your balls touching his ass. A loud gasp is knocked exit his mouth and his eyes begin to tear up.

You didn't give him any time to adjust before you began thrusting in and out. With each motion, Graves moans turned into whimpers. The sheets began to run wet with sweat.

Graves is deep in pleasure, some much so he can't keep his eyes open. Tears were clouding his vision. Squeezing them tight as he focuses on you deep inside him.

"No, keep them open. I wanna see those baby blues."

Your thumb push to open his eyelids. Even more tears spill out. You smirk as his eyes roll back. God was he breathtaking. Eyes too clear for a man like him.

"Look at you, sir. You're so pretty around my cock."

At your words, Graves let a moans. He was always a slut for praise. He was so used to giving it but receiving it was a treat. So it was no surprise to you when you first found out it was his kink. He wanted to close his eyes again but wanted to be a good boy.

"Yep-yep. 'M pretty boy." Graves choked out. He felt completely drunk without even taking alcohol. Everything phased out of his mind but you.

No war. No pain.

Just you and him.

Your thrust were never consistent. Just sloppy and fast. Graves tight heat was always enough to throw off your rythm. Your inconsistencies added to the pleasure as Graves was never sure when you'd thrust so he didn't know when to expect it.

The sound of your balls hitting Graves' ass and both his and yours moans filled his office.

"God, sir. You're so fucking loud. But you don't care do you. You'd love for them to fuck you too, right?"

Your thrust become relentless, feeling that you were close to coming undone. By the way Graves was having a hard time forming words it seems him was too.

" 'M not sure if t-they'll take me seriously if they do."

"Nah, they would. Hell, they'll go the extra mile on missions in hopes you'd let them fuck this tight ass and gag you with their cocks."

"Oh my f-fucking God. P-please."

"Would you like that, sir? Your beloved men lining up to fuck you like a slut. You'd take them so well. Such a good reward for following your orders without question."

"Y-yes, please yes."

With that fantasy ingrained in his mind, Graves was so close to cumming. His walls tighten around you telling you so. Getting the message you grab his dick and start jacking him off, trying but failing to match with your trusts.

"S-so full."

"Now just think we can get someone to fuck you. Think about how even more filled you'd be. Can you take more than one cock, sir?"

"F-fuck yeah. God, it'd feel so good."

Graves places his hand on his belly, the imprint of your cock prominent. He loved the fullness you gave him and just another cock would give him such a pleasurable pain. He squeezes suddenly and sends a shock down your spine.

"Y/N, 'm close." Graves whimpers.

"Same. Let go for me, sir."

With that Graves paints his chest and your fist white with you cumming as well. The two of you lay there panting, trying to collect yourselves. You rest your forehead against Graves whispering that he's done well. He closes his eyes as gave him kisses between your words.

"God, that was good." He finally says, his voice hoarse.

"You're always good." You bring your hand and lick up Graves' cum, tasting his delicious mess.

"You serious about what you said? That'd they still respect me?"

"Hell yeah." You assure him again with a confident smile.

"Call them up." Graves smirks just thinking of the fun that awaits them.

#call of duty mwii #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x reader #x reader #phillip graves #x top reader #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x male reader

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povlnfour · 5 months

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK FINAL PART

series masterlist | prev part

lando norris x f!horse rider!reader

authors note: for the purpose of this i need you to imagine lando flew straight back to monaco the monday after vegas and didn’t need to fly to abu dhabi till thursday night… thank u

lando.jpg just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by oscarpiastri, daniel.jpg3 and 105,411 others

lando.jpg early birthday celebrations🇧🇷

view all comments

user3 CARLANDOOOO

user5 them going to brazil early just to hang out is so :(

user1 day 3 of the y/n drought and i just cried over a photo of her by a pool

user4 okay but who’s the third wheel….

user10 definitely y/n

landonorris it’s me they’ve rallied against me

carlossainz55 just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by 508,199 people

carlossainz55 gracias são paulo, now onto the race☀️

👤 tagged yourusername

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user7 oh so lando wasn’t kidding about him being a third wheel😭

user15 CARLOS AND Y/N DRINKING TOGETHER AHAHAHA AM I SENSING A NEW DUO

user2 can’t wait for people to start rumours about them now xo

user5 carlando holiday with added y/n,,,, my dream🥹

user4 i know y/n’s phone is full of such cute carlando photos this break couldn’t have come at a worse time

y/nupdates just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris and 15,406 others

y/nupdates y/n at the paddock with lily today for the quali of the brazil grand prix!! someone said lando gave her the stitch plushie when they arrived and she’s not let it go🥹

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user1 she looks sO HAPPY

user14 lando getting to see her every day and still stalking her fanpages is so adorable to me

user4 he’s just like all of us fr

user8 i’m so sad she can’t be with him on his birthday :( you know she’d give us the cutest lan content

mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, fernando_alo and 291,222 others

mclaren not much to see here. just lando norris things👀🧡

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user4 LANDOOOO

user14 cause he had his good luck charm there😌

mclaren 👀 we’re going to miss her

user5 future wdc coming

user8 THE WAY HE KISSED Y/N WHEN HE GOT P2😭

texts with lando ੈ✩‧₊˚

birthday texts with lando ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by alex_albon and 346,441 others

landonorris thanks for all the birthday wishes🤙🏻 had lots of fun with cake, golf and very fitting gifts which my girlfriend enjoyed🕶️

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user2 THE GLASSES😭😭😭

user4 IN TEARS

user5 more carlando and y/nlando content😭😭😭😭 we are THRIVING this week

user12 you’re so cute🥹

alex_albon tell y/n she’s so welcome for the laughs

landonorris she also loved the cardboard cutout of you

y/nupdates just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris and 17,208 others

y/nupdates best of luck to both @/yourusername and @/landonorris who compete today in respective competitions🩷 neither had a particularly positive saturday so we’re hoping they can bounce back stronger than ever!

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user7 good luck guys🥹

user8 masterclasses incoming

user13 y/n looked so nervous yesterday i hope she’s okay

user1 i think she had watched the quali before her own qualifying because her interview she said she had been distracted all morning😭

landonorris 🧡

liked by y/nupdates

texts with lando ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/nupdates just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 22,376 others

y/nupdates SHE’S ONLY GONE AND DONE IT😭 in her final competition before the winter rest, @/yourusername surprised everyone after a rough saturday and took gold with TWO ALL CLEARS🥹🩷 so proud of our girl!!! now she gets to enjoy her rest

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user3 CRYING IM SO PROUD

user12 SHE DID SO WELL

user1 devastated over lando but SO HAPPY FOR Y/N

landonorris that’s my girl🧡

user4 HI KING HOPE UR OKAY

lilymhe THATS MY OLYMPIAN😎 BRING ON PARIS 2024

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, alex_albon and 304,551 others

landonorris not how we wanted it to go but thank you for all your messages of support🧡 maybe not the best day for me but it certainly was for my girl, proud as hell

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user4 THE PHOTO ON THE STRETCHER YOURE SO UNSERIOUS

carlossainz55 glad you’re okay mate❤️

user5 glad you’re okay lando :( so proud of you no matter what <3

user1 him including y/n on the post🥹 they’re so in love

yourusername you’ll be back🧡

landonorris my superstar

user2 Y/N COMING BACK ONLINE JUST TO COMMENT OH I LOVE THEM

texts with charles and lily ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

lilymhe just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 331,608 others

yourusername happy belated birthday my love @/landonorris. no one deserves to be celebrated more than you, and i hope i get to do this for a long time in the future. biggest thanks to my co conspirators @/charles_leclerc and @/lilymhe for making this happen. the rumours and the drama were all worth it

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landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 491,267 others

landonorris and with that, the 2023 season comes to a close. it’s been a busy one, not the most perfect end race wise, but one i will always remember because of you — my true prize🧡 so excited to see what you can do going forward. paris 2024 is going to be yours

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—————

a/n: ANDDDD that’s it :’) semi anti climactic i know but i just enjoyed writing this and wanted it to have a simple soppy ending so

considering doing a mini epilogue to show their lives as it carries on? lmk if that’s something you’d like to see eek

back to one shots i go eeeek

- giselle xx

taglist: @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee

#lando norris #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris au #mclaren #lando norris blurb #lando norris scenario #lando norris smau

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lvlyghost · 6 months

Text

Disobedience

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Simon warned you not to go out, but a quick trip to the local pub doesn't seem like a bad idea.

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

TW: angst, comfort. overprotective!simon, reader is careless, pregnancy, established relationship. another part(? idk. poorly edited. mind the english. you know the drill 💗🌝

A/N: heh, so i'm down with —another— cold and I was just drifting off to sleep thanks to the meds when this idea hit me so i had to write it down, wish it was longer though, was planning on adding more angst but if this does well a second part might happen; (simon's still mad at reader🌚). enjoy🍂🌝

Masterlist✨

"So you did exactly what I specifically told you not to do?" He mutters, pacing back and forth in front of you, who could only stare up at him with wide eyes and parted lips. You had never seen him this mad. Not in the two years of relationship you so carefully built up.

It happened the night before he was supposed to return from deployment.

Simon had been gone for two months to a special operation with the task force or so he had told you. He couldn't disclose much about his work so he gave you little-to-no information regarding his mission and part of you felt relieved, he had said countless of times that there were things that he never wanted you to learn about. So you just did what you knew best: hug him and love him endlessly. And he did the same for you.

God knows Simon Riley loved you.

But going out for a few drinks —although you really didn't have any, thank the tiny human growing inside you— seemed harmless. Catching up with your small group of three friends after not seeing each other for months was something that couldn't kill anyone. And in all honesty you were going crazy. Needed a distraction. Fresh air. Break the routine you had fallen onto.

Simon had been gone for a while, and it's something you accepted when you started dating. So he wasn't the one to blame at all. Just like it wasn't his fault that you blatantly disobeyed him when he had called you through a secure line.

'Listen to me, love.' You could practically hear the worry in his voice. Things have taken a turn, yeah? I need you to stay in. Word's spreading these terrorists are targeting... families. I- I just need you to be safe yeah? Until I get home. It'll take a day tops. We don't wanna risk it. Jus' wait for me, please."

Needless to say that you had agreed at first, and it didn't took much convincing from your friends to drag you out. After all, Simon had made sure that you were off the radar to these terrorist or mercenaries. He put so much care to your safety, little people knew about your existence; so there was no reason to be worried right? A few hours of mingling then you'd go back. it's not like you could stand being out for so long either way.

The small bump on your belly was enough reason to call it a night a few hours into the night. Your pregnancy was still at the point where sleep got the best of you. The emotional outbursts were also not rare. The morning sickness that came with it.

But now under Simon's disapproving eyes you wonder if you had taken the right decision to disregard the order he had given you. All for an innocent reunion with the girls. His big hands are on his hips, staring you down with those brown eyes that you love, just not right now. You wonder if this is what the soldiers under his command feel when they're the subject of his ire. You hold back the tears. Fuck, he's not even being so hard on you, not even raising his voice. He'd never do that to you. Disappointing him is something you are not so proud of now.

"I didn't think it would be that bad." Simon scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose as an eerie silence settles between the two. "I know it's the dumbest excuse I- it was going to be for a few hours..."

Until he had barged into the pub. His eyes roaming around the establishment until he locked eyes with you, he had relaxed instantly. The deep pit that had set in his stomach when he got home only to be greeted by a deafening silence began to fade. Then anger reared its ugly head when he silently asked —demanded— you to stand up and led the two out of the place. The ride back in complete silence, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Why couldn't you just obey him for once? It took you hours to completely forget about his warnings. What if they laid hands on you? On his unborn child? Gritting his teeth he had stared forward focusing on anything but the thought of finding your dead body, of him scooping you up all bloodied and unreachable. Gone to somewhere he couldn't follow just yet.

Simon stalks forward sitting down on the coffee table in front of you, wood creaking beneath his weight. He leaned forward, face mere centimeters from yours as his arms rest on his thighs.

"Love." He calls you, and then he softly murmurs your name. "I'm trying to protect you..." he swallows, eyes traveling down to your small bump and then back to you again. "Both of you. If something happened..." Simon's jaw clenched, he doesn't even want to think of the worst scenarios. "We have enemies and i'd never forgive myself..." You stop him, grabbing his gloved hands and squeezing them with yours. The soft touch he had longed for these past months. He absentmindedly caressed your warm skin.

"Nothing's gonna happen, baby." You assured him, he stares intently at your eyes and finds nothing but love.

"Lost people before this way." He breathes out. And you feel like the biggest moron in the world. He's talking about his family. Simon rarely talks about them. "Hell will freeze before I let that happen again." Standing up he follows, arms wrapping around his middle. "Price set up a safe house for us, until things calm down and get the bastards." One of his hands rests on the nape of your neck inhaling the aroma of your shampoo, the other one firmly set on your swollen belly. He's missed this. Just being around you. Feeling you against him.

"You're coming too right? Missed you terribly." He rest his chin on top of your head.

"Don't think I could leave you now even if I had to."

You sigh deeply, placing a kiss on his chest; you wonder if one day the danger will stop. Simon's made many enemies along the years. But his efforts to keep his identity a secret were greater than any threat out there. Now with you and a baby in the way he'd never rest until he was sure no harm will get to you.

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satorusugurugurl · 15 days

Note

Hiii i just saw your accidentally hurting during yk what fic 😭😭 I was wondering if you’d maybe be up to writing a sequel? Like what happens after that?

NO PRESSURE OFCCC

you have great writing

Aftermath of JJK Men TQ Accidentally Hurting You During Smexy Time!

Part One

Character: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo

Warnings: Mentions of injuries? Suggestive, Gojo getting picked on, fluffy sweetness!!

Word count: 2,695

A/N: This was so much fun! It practically wrote itself! Thank you Nonnie!!

Gojo Satoru:

“My head hurts!” Gojo complained as he walked back into your room. He tossed you an ice pack before collapsing onto the bed with you. “Maybe we should have stopped what we were doing because I think I have a concussion.”

“You're such a big baby.” You giggled, still naked under the sheets. “It was just forehead bonk.”

“One that could have resulted in a concussion from your thick-ass skull.”

You tossed one of the pillows at him with a smirk. “You're the one at fault, Toru.” He just lay there, sighing dramatically.

“Right, I’m at fault all because I thrust into you.”

“There you go, the keyword ‘you’ all you.”

He stuck his tongue out at you before pulling you into his arms. “I would like to think it was a two-person incident.” You hummed nuzzling his neck.

“Besides, it's not like these things will draw any attention! In the morning, it'll be like this never happened.”

That was the farthest thing from the truth. The following day, both your goose eggs were still there on full display. You were okay with the fate you had been dealt. Satoru was fine, too, until he walked into the first-year's classroom.

“Mornin! I hope you three are ready for a fun-filled day of training!!” The three students glanced at each other before staring at Gojo. When none of them said anything, Satoru stole a glance at you. You had just stopped in to say good morning, and then you were off to the second-year's class.

You were flushed, hands covering your mouth as tears flooded your eyes. Why the hell were you laughing? Was there something on his face? Was his blindfold upside down? Your beautiful laughter was so contagious, spreading to his students. They were trying so hard to keep it together. While Megumi just silently judged his benefactor.

Not being in the loop had Satoru turning to everyone. “What? What's so funny?” The utter confusion in his voice finally had you losing the very little control you had.

“Oh My god!! Oh god!” You laughed out loud, sinking to the ground, tears flowing freely down your cheeks.

“What?!”

“What's with the lump under your blindfold?!” itadori cried out as Nobara slapped her desk repeatedly. “Some Charlie the Unicorn cosplay you're testing out?!”

“N-No, it's his third eye-opening!” Nobara added, causing you to wheeze.

“He already has Six-Eyes! That wasn't enough!!”

Megumi slowly pulled His phone out, snapping several pictures of the very confused Gojo. “Wait until the second year to see this.”

Having had enough, Gojo bolted for the bathroom, staring at his reflection. Without his blindfold on, the goose egg wasn't that noticeable. However, due to the tight fabric concealing his eyes, his goose egg was front and center in the middle of his forehead. He robbed at it, slowly smiling when he saw you step inside, face flushed. You were trying so hard not to laugh, but he could see the mischievous gleam In your eye.

He knew you oh so well. “Go on, say what you want to say.” He shook his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. “But Charlie the Unicorn and my third—no seventh eye-opening were golden.”

“I-Is that a goose egg under your blindfold, or are you just happy to see me?!” Laughter echoed off the walls.

Gojo just grinned his signature wide smile. He said nothing as he grabbed you by the collar of your uniform, dragging you back to the classroom. “That was weak! I expected better from my girlfriend.” You laughed even harder, making Gojo turn to smile down at you. He didn't think it was possible, but he fell even more in love with you at that moment.

Geto Suguru:

“Don’t ask Google Home, you freak!” Suguru just eyed you for a long moment. “Sugu—I’m serious!”

“Hey Google!” He shouted out with a smug smirk.

The next thing he knew, you were on top of him. Your hands covered his mouth as you straddled his hips. “You little freak! You seriously think I want PSIA or CIRO to know about how you bit my clit.” You were easily rolled off, Suguru laying on top of you, his hands prying yours away from his mouth.

“Oh, Y/N, I love it when you talk acronyms to me.” He gently kissed your palms. “So sexy, really get my cock throbbing.” You sputtered and looked off as a warm breeze flowed through the room. Suguru grinned against your hand. You were so cute when you pouted like this. “So Google Home is a no-go, what about Reddit?” Sighing in defeat, you nodded, watching your boyfriend type on his phone. “I, twenty-seven male, bit my girlfriend's clit. What should I do to treat it?”

God, you could already hear the cringy TikTok videos using your horror story for views. Luckily, Suguru got the answer: antibacterial soap, warm water, and aspirin.

Suguru left and returned, finding you sitting on the couch, your hand pressing against yourself through your shorts. The sight made him cringe in sympathetic pain. He bit you hard, and he knew it hurt from your scream. If he could take the pain from you, he would. Alas, there was nothing he could do to change it, but he could help ease the pain.

“I got the goods.” He announced, holding up a plastic bag. “Let’s go get ya’ in the shower.”

You stripped out of your clothes, standing naked in the bathroom as Suguru started running the water. Seeing him so attentive like this made you swoon. You truly were lucky to have found someone as kind as him. Suguru made you feel special, like royalty, aside from the whole biting of your clit.

“Alright, there's the soap, unscented per Reddit.” He placed the white bar of soap in your hand. “The fluffiest wash cloth the store had for your perfect pussy.” a fluffy pink cloth was placed in your other hand. “And open your mouth.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.” You did as he said, and he held up a bottle of allergy medication. “To ease the sinus’.” He dropped the pill in your mouth before handing you some water. “Because the next time I come home and find you looking delicious in the living room, I don't want you sneezing when I'm going down on you.”

After swallowing the pill, you laughed. “Looked delicious, huh?” Suguru nodded, his hand reaching into his pockets as you entered the shower.

“Delicious, gorgeous, absolutely radiant.” His Words were as warm and comforting as the water running down your body. “It got me thinking about coming home like that every day, to you, with a couple of kids running around.”

Pulling the shower curtain back, you glowered at him. “Geto Suguru, don't you even think about proposing to me after you bit my clit!” Something flickered in his eyes, amusement as he cocked a dark brown in your direction.

“Okay, no impromptu post clit biting proposals.”

“Thank you!” You breathed out a huff through your nostrils. “Now hurry up and come get in with me.”

“Right, let me just put the ice cream away.”

Your head poked out from behind the curtain, eyes glittering joyfully. “Ice cream?!” Suguru walked backward as he headed into your room.

“Of course! I needed to get my girl a treat after I hurt her.” You watched him turn the corner. “Be right back.”

While you did a little happy dance in the shower, Suguru walked into the living room. Getting down on his knees, he wiggled the loose floorboard by the backdoor and pulled the small wood plank up. With a heavy sigh, Suguru reached into his pocket, pulling out the blue velvet box he had slid inside before he had hurt you. He opened it to examine the ring he picked out for you six months ago.

“Oh well, there's always next time.” The disappointment was thick in his voice as he put the box back in its hiding place. With the floorboard secure, Suguru slowly stripped out of his clothes as he headed back to you.

Nanami Kento:

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cried out as Nanami gave you a worried look.

“Hang in there. Ijichi is pulling up.”

The sleek black car pulled up, almost making your dislocated shoulder feel better. It held the promise of relief to come. Ijichi got out, rushing towards the two of you as Nanami ushered you forward.

“I'm sorry it took so long. The traffic was terrible. But as soon as you called, I stopped What I was doing to head straight over.”

Nanami shook his head, grabbing the handle of the backseat. “No, don't apologize, Ijichi. We should be thanking you for taking us to the hospital.” You modded as Nanami slowly opened the door.

“Yeah, Ijichi, I hope you weren't doing anything important. Thank you.”

“Oh, well, I was actually taking Gojo home.”

Nanami promptly slammed the door shut. Staring at the dark void of the window. In the reflection of the tinted glass, Nanami could see the look of horror that washed over your face. This wasn't happening. No way, no way. Having Gojo here was both of your worst nightmares.

You stepped back, nervously laughing. “Ya’ know what! L- Let’s walk to the emergency room!” Seeing the opportunity you made, Nanami followed your lead.

“Yes! It's a beautiful evening for a stroll.” Nanami bends down, leaning into your ear. “Walk.”

“Wait! I-I don't think that's wise! Y/N, you're injured!”

You waved your uninjured hand at Ijichi. “Eh, injured, not injured! Who cares!!” The nervousness was as thick as honey in your voice.

The black window slowly rolled down, leaving you and Nanami frozen. Gojo Satoru poked his head out the window, eyeing the both of you with a wide grin. A grin you knew had a vein in Nanami’s head twitching. Gojo hummed, twirling his finger in your direction.

“Let’s see, wet hair, dislocated shoulder, bite marks galore.”

“It's not what it looks like!” Gojo was unfazed by your interjection, his head tilting to look up at your irritated boyfriend.

“Wet hair, hickies, the pure frustration unfinished ‘business’!” A bark of laughter sounded from the back of his throat. “I don't even need to use Six-Eyes to figure this out. Shower sex gone wrong, Nanamin~?” Nanami looked like he was about to throw a black-flash at Gojo while you blushed a darker shade. “No shame! I could give you some pointers if you want!”

Your mind tried to think of some sarcastic retort, but your thoughts were on hold as you heard the car door open. Slowly blinking, you watched a furious Nanami reaching for Gojo. “K-Kento!” You scrambled forward, grabbing his arm with your noninjured arm. “Don’t kill him!” Gojo was snickering, giving Nanami a shit-eating grin. “Let’s just go! Get in the car!”

Ijichi drove the two (three including Gojo) to the emergency room, where your arm was popped back into place and put into a sling. While Nanami stopped to pick up your prescription at the hospital's pharmacy, he glared at Gojo as he showed you his phone screen. He didn’t know why he insisted on coming with the two of you. The man was persistent, not listening, even when Nanami snapped at him to go away. With your prescription in hand, Nanami quietly headed back. He was trying to listen to your conversation.

“See, this one would probably work for you guys,” Gojo said, tapping his screen. “This way, you won’t slip or dislocate your shoulder, ya’ know?”

“Oooh!” The way your eyes glittered with awe had Nanami’s heart skipping a beat. “Oh my god! That’s awesome!”

“What’s so awesome?” You perked up, glancing up at Nanami.

“Babe! Did you know they make shower sex steps?! It suctions to the wall, and I can prop my foot up!”

Nanami trailed his gaze slowly to his blindfolded colleague, who whistled innocently. “Trying to corrupt my girlfriend?” He asked as he gently helped you stand.

“I’m just a friend looking out for my other friends' relationship! Just one slip doesn’t mean shower sex should be a no-go!”

Nanami shook his head, wrapping his arm tentatively around your waist. “Kento, can we get one? Please! I wanna try it out!” You were bouncing with excitement.

“Let's wait six weeks before that; give you some time to heal.” While you were disappointed, you nodded in agreement. This was time to heal, not to get freaky.

But imagine your surprise six weeks later when Gojo dropped a package on your desk. “Have fun!!” Was all he got out before you were shoving past him, rushing to find Nanami. Things were expected to be wet and wild all night.

Choso Kamo:

You stared at the mirror, evening your nose. Choso had accidentally sucker-punched you two hours ago. Having broken your nose. But what sort of sorcerer would you be if you couldn’t fix that? You easily grabbed it and popped it back into place with a sickening crunch. One that had your boyfriend turning three shades paler than he already was.

Your nose was swollen and a little discolored. You’d be bruised for sure, but you didn’t mind. It was like an unpleasurable hickey—a reminder of the fun you and Choso had.

The broken nose didn’t bother you, but despite countless attempts to ensure Choso it was okay, he still sulked. It was too long after that he said he was leaving for a bit. You figured he just needed some time to get over what had happened.

He had been gone for an hour so far, enough time for you to shower and crawl into the clean sheets you both put on. You had anticipated him to be gone longer, so you whirled towards the bedroom door as he creaked open further.

“Welcome home!” Choso’s heart felt like it was beating a million miles a minute. Your cute smile, the warmth of your voice, everything about you made his stomach flutter; no, butterflies, Yuuji said. You gave him the butterflies. “Where did you run off to?”

“I stopped at the store.” He offered you his hand. “Come with me?”

Choso led you back out to the living room. He motioned to various items: a nose splint, medical tape, and an ice pack. Then, there were all different kinds of snacks and candy, all of which were your favorites.

Your boyfriend never went out to clear his head. No, he went out to get you things to make you feel better. The compassionate gesture made your heart crawl up your throat as lights shimmered over your eyes as they filled with tears. None of your exes had ever done anything remotely sweet. His gesture proved to you how much Choso cared, how sweet he was.

“Oh no, why are you crying?!”

“Cho—”

“I-I’m so sorry! Does your nose hurt? Let’s see!” His warm, frantic eyes grazed over the table. Hands were picking up bottles. “Aspirin, aspirin!”

Your slender fingers gently wrapped around his trembling hand, holding it. “N-No Cho—“ you were too stunned to speak, “baby, this is so thoughtful and sweet. Thank you, no one’s ever done something like this for me before.” The worry on his cute face faded into a more relaxed expression.

“Oh?” You hummed, interlocking your fingers with him. “So I did a good job?” If the man had a tail, you were sure he’d be wagging it.

Choso watched as you stood on your tip toes before petting him on the head. “You did a good job, baby; seriously, you’re the best boyfriend ever.” The wide grin on his face warmed your heart as he excitedly showered you all the things he bought.

He truly was the best boyfriend in the world. You must have done something right in your past life to deserve him. God, he was so precious! You just wanted to chew on his cheeks. But that would have to wait until your nose was healed. For now, you were perfectly content with him putting the nose splint on your face before he snuggled you on the couch.

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yanderestarangel · 7 months

Note

Imagine giving the Lin Kuei trio such good head they start crying like UGHH

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐌𝐊1 | 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐊𝐔𝐄𝐈 | 𝐌!𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

TW: overstimulation, ball massage, blowjob, praise kink, pet names, dacryphilia, sub!bi han, sub!tomas, sub!kuai liang, gn reader.

A/N: this request made me smile sincerely, thank you anon <3

ღ ୭·࣭࣪̇˖ Do you want to make me a request? read my pinned post.

⸺❥ BI HAN

He is very sensitive on the topic: blowjobs, even though he is an extremely dominant man, blowjobs or anything that involves your mouth on his body... he will grunt and moan loudly, but not to the point of crying, but if you know how to pull his right on his buttons, he's going to become a shaking, crying mess, so a morning blowjob would be the best thing to make him lose control, see you between his legs first thing in the morning, his cock hard and pulsing, demanding attention while you sucked him, running your warm and wet tongue over each exposed vein on his member, stimulating him even more. He wouldn't even waste time, immediately pulling your head even more towards his cock, but it wasn't in a dominant way like other times, but rather a desperate high to have even more contact with you, his hips lifted slightly in a desperate rhythm, a few tears could be seen on his eyelashes, he really didn't want to cry, but you were sucking him so well, he couldn't even stop himself from crying and whimpering as he shook, feeling a familiar tightness in his core.

"-F-Fuuck... fuck I fucking love your mouth... I fucking love you." -Bi Han whimpered and moaned loudly, his hard cock was pulsing in your mouth, while you added a massage to his balls, making Bi Han start to moan and whimper louder, his face was flushed, loose hair messy as he begged to cum. "-Fucking hell (Y/N) just let me cum, fuck, I want to cum..." He soon hissed, you had never seen him so vulnerable and submissive, but there he was, the great grandmaster, moaning and crying like a little slut for a blowjob. "-Just don't stop, don't stop until I cum, please" -Bi Han whimpered again, as he pushed your head further onto his dick, the tip of his dick head hit your throat a few times, as he tried to hold back his moans and tears, soon cumming with a loud, hoarse scream, tense muscles and a sweaty body, his face was a flushed, crying mess just like you wanted.

⸺❥TOMAS VRBADA

He already cries naturally during sex. Seriously, Tomas is an extremely vocal and emotional man, his pleasure is in letting you know that he is receiving pleasure, and how good you make him feel - even if he tries to hold back, he can't - so if you wake him up between his legs, with his morning wood completely in your mouth, he will go crazy with pleasure. Vrbada will release rhythmic and soft moans at first, moving his hips slightly in your hot and wet cavity, looking for even more contact, he will try to restrain himself slightly because it's still morning and he doesn't want to wake up his brothers, but damn, you woke him up giving such a good head, he just wanted to scream and cry... And that's what he started to do.

Tomas placed one of his hands on your head, lightly guiding your movements, timid tears were already beginning to fall, the previously soft moans were now becoming louder and more primal every moment, with him crying and sobbing for not containing his pleasure you were giving him. "-Good job, honey. I’m so proud of you, you’re perfect.” -Tomas spoke between heavy and irregular breaths, his blue eyes look at you, focused on yours, heavy with tears that accumulated under his orbs, he opened and closed his lips with vulnerable and submissive sounds, a bodily request for you to continue, he You wouldn't even wipe the tears away, letting them fall all over his face, he trembled and grabbed the sheets beneath him, rolling his head back when you focused on the tip of his dick, in back and forth movements, making his veins swell with growing desire and need to cum, he was already a crying and needy mess, echoing through the walls and waking up the whole house. "-Please let me cum, I'm yours, I'm your good boy, please (Y/N) Please it's all I need, I just need it!" -He spoke loudly, his voice choked with immeasurable pleasure, he pushed his hips hard into your mouth, making you choke, and he loved that, grabbing your face with both hands, and giving one last desperate blow, releasing thick jets of cum into you, while he trembled and writhed. "-I love you more than anything, you make me feel so good..."

⸺❥KUAI LIANG

He's a Dom by nature, loving to control you and watch you beg to cum, but this time you were making him feel so good that Kuai Liang couldn't stop himself from surrendering to the submission of giving himself to you, working and worshiping cock of him after a tiring day at work is the thing that would make Kuai whimper as he saw you on your knees, taking his length in your mouth, you alternated between the tip of his cock and running your tongue over his hot shaft, you could swear you saw tears started to stain his eyelashes, one of his hands was on his waist, while the other was massaging your face, his voice was softer than usual, he was starting to break down and you knew it.

"-Do you know how many men would kill to be me right now?" -Kuai spoke in a hoarse voice, soon starting to whimper and cry when he felt you go deeper with his cock in your mouth, exploring the soft corners of your cheeks and taking his cock out to hit your tongue, placing it quickly inside your mouth again, letting you dictate the pace, he was at your mercy, your mercy, and he loved every second of it. "-Do you know how good at this you are? That feels so fucking good, keep going, you're doing great my love." -Kuai said, already crying, tears ran down his face, painting his cheeks, while he felt the familiar tightness in his balls, looking you in the eyes while his muscular thighs were already shaking, having difficulty keeping themselves steady on the floor. "-Why do you affect me like this?... I just... Fuck... Holy shit (Y/N)..." -He moaned hoarsely, while shaking loudly and closing his eyes with his lips open in pleasure, thirsting for desire and letting you control him, his hand left your face, falling on the sides of his body, while he watched you work so well with his mouth, he didn't even warn you that time, just cumming amid loud cries in your mouth.

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crypticreid · 6 months

Text

KINKTOBER DAY FOUR

October 13 -- Virginity

masterlist

author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)

summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.

warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys

word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair.

“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder.

“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking.

The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs.

You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.

“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy.

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk.

You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers.

“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself.

“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.”

“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims.

Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers.

“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer.

“It’s okay.”

“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper.

“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid.

“What?” You whip your head around to her.

Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.”

You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.”

JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?”

You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it.

The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.

Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.”

“Or gambling.” Emily adds.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.”

“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles.

“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk.

“I do not!”

Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans.

On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?”

The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly. “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity.

“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly.

Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?”

“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own.

“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought.

“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared.

You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.”

His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –”

“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward.

“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?”

One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.”

“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you.

“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?”

He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.”

You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?”

“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.”

“Of course, Doctor Reid.”

He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.”

“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked.

Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.”

“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?”

“No, we just –”

“Hooked up.” You finish for him.

“For a couple months, yeah.”

Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?”

His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.”

“What did you call her?”

“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs.

“Wow, who knew.”

“What?”

“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders.

“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away.

Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile.

He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over.

Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt.

“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –”

“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily.

“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek.

“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back.

You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away.

His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss.

His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip.

“What for?” You blink.

“Kissing you.”

“I kissed you.”

“I kissed you back.”

“And you should do it again.”

His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.”

“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer.

“It’s inappropriate.”

“I don’t care.”

“There’s paperwork.”

“Not if we don’t tell anyone.”

“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest.

“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?”

He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects.

You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket.

He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot.

“It’s kismet.”

“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.”

“It is.” You say earnestly.

He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.”

“Don’t apologize. I like it.”

His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?”

You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second.

“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.”

“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?”

“We have each other. And you focus on the good.”

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.”

He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.”

You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing.

“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you.

“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck.

He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core.

“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck.

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin.

“I want you.”

He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.”

“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.”

He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?”

“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly.

“I’ll take care of you.”

“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own.

His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment.

Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?”

“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie.

He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.”

You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately. “I don’t wanna go slow.”

He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.”

Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.”

His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?”

“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager.

“How far?”

“What?”

“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?”

Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?”

“Spencer,” you plead.

He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.”

You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more.

“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece.

“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips.

You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.”

He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more.

“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more.

He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him.

“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands.

Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?”

“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw.

“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.”

Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember.

“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him.

“I thought of you too.” You confess.

“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.”

You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.”

“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts.

You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him.

“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.

You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest.

Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed.

When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you.

The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back.

He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear.

“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?”

“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action.

He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained.

“You can. I want you to.”

His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word.

Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place.

“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.”

He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly.

He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles.

“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite.

“Is this okay?” He asks. “I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit.

“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes.

“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.”

“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder.

“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap.

You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.”

You force your eyes open. “Spencer…”

“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”

“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him.

You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.”

One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean.

This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters.

“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you.

“I want you.”

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle.

“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it.

“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs.

You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.”

Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.”

You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.”

He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head.

You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.”

He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match.

At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.”

His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan.

You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm.

“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters.

You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you.

He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face.

“Are you okay?” He inquires.

“I’m perfect.”

His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.”

The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window.

“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases.

Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?”

“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps.

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently.

JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.”

“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.”

“Boo!” Emily exclaims.

Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!”

“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you.

“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns.

“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #my writing #ohh my god i did not mean to write this much lmao

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