#【 barb ic : you were saying? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deunmiu-dessie · 1 month

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ⅰ ▬ ⁽ 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓌𝑜𝓁𝒻 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₃˖₅ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, dubcon, rape/noncon elements explicit content, teratophilia, monster/human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, very obvious size difference, dacryphilia, ( slight?? ) somnophilia, cunnilingus, knotting. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎ : you're invited to the bar by your bestfriend, barb. things go awry. ꒰m!werewolf ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

𝒜s you drift in and out of a light slumber, the sudden sound of your phone jolts you awake. The room is enveloped in darkness, and a chill lingers in the air, reminding you that you forgot to close the window. You shift in bed, directing your gaze towards the nightstand, and reach out to grab your phone, squinting against its blinding brightness. Running a hand through your tousled hair, you sit up and flick on the nearby lamp, illuminating the room.

As you settle in, your eyes slowly adapt to the light, allowing you to observe your surroundings. Glancing at your phone once more, you notice the time - it's already 9:27 PM. Your friend tried calling you five times, with the first call going unanswered for ten minutes.

As you slide out of bed, you stretch your arms and legs, grimacing at the sounds of your joints cracking. You brush your hands through your hair and make your way to the bathroom, turning on the light, and leaning against the sink, letting out a sigh at the sight of the bags under your eyes. Your lithe fingers gently pull at the skin under your eyes, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Sighing, your arms drop to your side before lifting them to twist the faucet handle.

You bend down and form a makeshift bowl with your hands, sleepily awaiting the rush of water. The liquid cascades into your palms, filling them with a refreshing embrace. With a swift motion, you splash the cold water onto your face, instantly jolting your senses awake.

Huffing out a sigh, you shut off the tap, taking a brief pause to relish in the quietness of your home, before reaching for a soft hand towel to gently pat your face dry. Tossing the damp towel into the laundry basket, you pivot on your heels and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and shutting the door behind you.

Glancing around the room, you notice the scattered clothing on the floor and your disorganized dresser, and as much as you wanted to clean it, you simply lacked the motivation. Your gaze swiftly shifts away from the mess and you clear your throat.

"Hey, Alexa, Call Barb back."

As her robotic voice obediently chimes, you collapse onto your messy bed, emitting a groan in response to the piercing sound resonating in your ears. A brief moment of silence passes before you're taken aback, startled by Barb's exuberant cheer.

" Thank god! I thought you were dead! What are you doing right now?" The ambiance of music and conversation engulfs her, prompting yet another sigh from you- the nth one since you've woken up. You're now well aware of the reason for her call, but you're not in the mood to socialize or have a drink.

After all, this was your only free weekend for the next month or so; and besides, you had already planned a date with a tub of ice cream and a marathon of horror movies.

"I just woke up from a nap, where are you? It's loud."

The woman softly utters a flustered 'stop', likely to a guy she's flirting with. Barb clears her throat to hide a giggle. "I'm at a bar with Crystal and Kevin. Please come down!" The idea of socializing at that moment sent shivers down your spine. No matter how much you adored Barb, her offer didn't tempt you in the slightest.

Actually, the idea of socializing at that moment sent mind-numbing shivers down your spine, and just as you were about to decline, her following words elicit a gentle chuckle from you.

"And! Before you say no, I promise I won't ask you to come to any events for the next three months." The anxiety in her voice is palpable, and it begins to chip away at your resolve, her small whine finally breaks you and with a sigh, you find yourself smiling at her proposal. "Fine, send me the address and I'll be there as soon as I can. "

The place is bustling with noise and the unmistakable smell of sweat as you navigate your way to the bar. From the entrance, you catch sight of Barb's eye-catching cotton candy pink hair. She's engaged in light-hearted banter with a burly man, and although you hesitate to interrupt, you do so anyway.

Wrapping your arms around her waist, you bask in the comforting aroma that surrounds her. Barb was an absolute doll, and the instant connection you both had when introduced by a mutual friend three years ago is still strong. Barb was practically the sole reason you weren't a recluse.

A small chuckle escaped her lips as she affectionately placed her hand on your cheek. "That you babe?" She turns around as she hears your approving hum, and her gaze falls upon your attire. It wasn't flashy, considering this is just a bar. Your legs are clad in mom jeans, complemented by a band tee and a pair of chunky combat boots. In contrast to Barb's tight red dress, you may seem a bit underdressed, but your intention wasn't to find a hookup tonight; you're here to catch up with Barb.

She pressed her lips together, but eventually gave in and rolled her eyes before pulling you into a warm hug, without getting up from her seat.

" Henry, this is my best friend. " she beamed at you and playfully raised her eyebrows. "Bestie, this is Henry."

You cast your eyes towards him, uninterested."Hey, how are you?"

Without waiting for his response, you plant a kiss on Barb's forehead and gesture towards the other end of the bar. "I'll grab a drink and then search for Kevin and Crystal."

Barb's lips formed a pout as she nodded, her expression turning stern. "Don't leave without telling me okay?" You acknowledged her request with a nod, waving her off and making your way to the stool at the end of the counter, collapsing onto the chair, and releasing a weary sigh.

The bartender looked at you expectantly, prompting you to bite the inside of your cheek before simply requesting water - you had no intention of drinking tonight. Your eyes flit over the bar, taking small sips from your water bottle, looking for any eye candy. Eventually, your gaze landed on a man wearing a red, dirtied beanie, his eyes lowered. He's big and burly, with dark hair covering his forearms and a thick beard.

Your heart stutters in your chest, prompting you to clench your thighs together. His sun-kissed complexion exuded an irresistible aura of feral masculine energy, that made your nipples perk up and harden. You discreetly averted your eyes, taking a gulp of water to quell the sudden and embarrassing rush of desire.

Stealing another glance, your heart skips a beat when his hazel eyes meet yours. Flustered, you quickly look away, feeling the warmth spread across your cheeks. You had just got caught ogling a sexy hunky man, and you'd probably been drooling too.

You set your water bottle on the counter and pat your cheeks with your cold hands. Gradually mustering the courage, you decide to approach the man- the intimidating but hot man who sat in a booth alone. As you prepare to stand up, you are startled to find him just a few steps away from you, gaze searing and unwavering.

Towering at 6'4, he appeared even more imposing in person, his muscles clearly defined beneath his jacket. Despite your jitters, you offer a smile and a nod in his direction. His eyes briefly leave yours, locking with the bartender's. A surge of desire courses through you, his voice is deep and velvet-smooth, and it has your stomach in knots.

"Another bourbon."

His eyes fixated on you, captivating your very being and luring you into a trance. A timid squeak escaped your lips as you retreated into your shell - he exuded an aura of sheer intimidation. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth accompanied a subtle nod, but little else. You couldn't help but feel foolish for even attempting to engage with him because even though he didn't wear an expensive suit or look well off, he was way out of your league. At least, that's how it felt.

As he grabs the glass of bourbon, he disappears into the shadows of his lonely little booth. You feel the urge to approach him but two things hold you back– one- you don't know what you would say and two– you really have to pee.

Downing the last drops of water, you bring the bottle with you to throw in the garbage can. Suddenly, you come to a halt, noticing the lengthy line forming at the restroom — that was like a thirty-minute wait, you couldn't possibly hold your pee for that long.

The longer you pondered your next move, the more your bladder seemed to betray you. Your only choice was to venture outside and take care of business in the back. You clenched your jaw, cursed under your breath, and hurried to the back door. As you made your way, you locked eyes with Barb at the bar and gestured towards your urgent need. She responded with a nod and a thumbs-up before returning to her conversation. With a sigh of relief, you slipped out into the cool night air, feeling its gentle touch on your skin.

The town may have been small, but it possessed an allure that captivated its inhabitants. It wasn't the kind of place where everyone knew each other, yet it still retained an intimate charm. Nestled at the edge of town, this bar stood amidst the endless forest that enveloped the surroundings. It was easy to get lost in there.

Into the heart of the forest, you went, careful to avoid prying eyes as you attended to your needs, wary of the consequences if caught by the property owner or law enforcement. As you made your way through the trees, the dim glow of the bar faded and you continued to walk until you had to squint to see the bar lights.

The sound of your belt coming undone echoed through the stillness of the area and you feel your skin crawl with anxiousness. You can hear the steady stream of your pee hitting the leafy-covered ground and you cringe at the loudness of the sound. After you make sure you're at least a bit dry down there, you stand and pull your pants up. As you adjust yourself, a rustle in front of you makes your heart race.

Your hands freeze at your belt buckle, a deep, low, guttural growl meets your ears and suddenly you can see golden irises looking towards you. It's a wolf. Fear grips you as you step back, trembling with terror. As your eyebrows knit together, your gaze intensifies upon the creature before you. There is no denying its identity as a wolf, yet its sheer size is awe-inspiring, towering over you. Its maw is much too big, its teeth much too large and its physique exudes strength.

What the hell were you looking at?

It takes a step forward, snarling at you. Your body quivers with nervous energy, unable to find calm, unable to focus. Without hesitation, you pivot on your foot and sprint away, your eyes scanning the surroundings with newfound intensity - every obstacle, every tree, every shadow. Uncertain if the predator is gaining on you, uncertain if more have joined in on the chase - you refuse to look back. The snarls and the sound of rapid footsteps fade momentarily. Breathing becomes difficult, and your face is flushed and covered in sweat.

Seeking refuge behind a tree, you struggle to regain composure, your heart racing wildly, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Crack

Sprinting away, driven by an insatiable desire for safety, you disregard the possibility that it might not be the wolf. You suddenly experience an excruciating pain that travels up your ankle, causing an ear-piercing shriek to erupt from your throat and obscure your vision with tears.

Your skull collides with the rugged terrain, engulfing your vision in darkness for a fleeting moment. As your mind gradually regains clarity, you steal a glance at your ankle, recoiling at the sight of the weathered bear trap sinking its fangs into your flesh. Thankfully, the wound appears shallow, and you offer a silent gratitude to God.

Crunch

You lack the strength to budge, even though it's not causing any real harm; the agony is unbearable. The wolf draws nearer, yet its snarls transform into a plaintive whine. Your eyes remain tightly shut, refusing to open, as your body becomes paralyzed by the sensation of its scorching breath against your face.

It continues its advance, until it reaches your leg, eliciting a whimper from you as its jaws envelop it. Although no additional pain ensues, the sound of fabric rending fills your ears. With trepidation, you finally summon the courage to open your eyes, only to find half of your pant leg ripped away.

Crack, Crack

Bones are breaking, you can hear every crack and also see them breaking under the wolf's fur. As the wolf's fur ripples, you witness the gruesome spectacle of bones splintering beneath its skin. A sickening sensation rises in your throat, causing you to retch violently onto the verdant grass below. The cracking stops but you make no move to look again.

The searing agony dissipates, replaced by the faint rustling of metal being pried apart and discarded with a metallic clink. A rough, yet tender and moist touch glides over your wound, gradually erasing the numbness that enveloped you. The scorching pain that once tormented you is now but a distant memory.

Facing the creature, you realize it has grown even larger, standing at an impressive 9 feet tall. Its massive frame is covered in thick, dark fur, making it almost impossible to discern its true shape. The only colors visible are the glowing gold of its eyes and the pink knot nestled against your thigh. You swallow heavily and avert your eyes quickly, eyes flitting to the wolf's face.

Your heart races as you feel its large hand holding your leg, the gentle touch of its claws sending shivers down your spine. The sensation of its tongue brushing against your skin sends waves of pleasure through your body, despite the fear that grips you. His nose twitches, his eyes flicking towards you, the tension in his muscles palpable.

Your body quivers like a leaf, appearing fragile and small beneath the werewolf, so easily breakable. You can feel his cock stiffening even more, almost impossibly so. Reluctantly, you retract your leg from his grasp, edging back slowly. He watches you with intelligent eyes, tracking your every motion. Struggling to rise, you opt to flip onto your hands and knees, clutching a nearby tree for support— still uncertain of your 'healed' ankle.

There's a pressure on your waist, claws teasing your delicate hips, barely breaking the skin, and you cry out as your pants are torn from your legs, the cool air brushing against your exposed skin. He pauses for a moment, snout coming close to your sex before sniffing deeply. As tears cascade down your cheeks, you instinctively lash out, kicking your leg in a desperate attempt to distance yourself.

Your combat boot forcefully collides with its face, a feeble protest that is met with a mocking snort. With a single swipe of its claw, your delicate undergarments are effortlessly torn apart, leaving your hole quivering, and juices leaking without permission. Drawing nearer, its snout radiates warmth, causing you to recoil, your eyes squeezed shut. Yet, they swiftly snap open as its wide, elongated, and moist tongue begins to sensually lap at you, the roughness of its muscular appendage gently grazing your entrance and occasionally slipping inside.

Against your will, you're moaning loudly. Your eyes roll back and your lower lip is trapped between your teeth. The hand that was holding onto the tree is now on its snout, attempting to push it away. Your face is pressed into the ground, your back arched in a deliciously painful curve, and your ass is raised high in the air.

It laps at you eagerly like a thirsty dog, and you're lost in a sea of pleasure, moaning and pleading for more, despite yourself. You love every second of this, and it makes you feel disgusted with how enamored you are at what this monster's tongue is doing to you.

You're enveloped in a sea of pure white, as its tongue explores the depths of your being, gently caressing your sensitive spots and teasing your g-spot. It's tongue fucking you so well, like it possesses an intimate map of your body. Its tail sways rhythmically as your trembling thighs embrace its snout, cum dripping onto its eager tongue. Your body spasms with pleasure, and it revels in its satisfaction.

Your pussy tightens slightly, releasing your desire onto your inner thighs, playfully winking at the creature, enticing it to take you. Its hands encircle your waist, contrasting your size against it. The tip of its red cock is lined with your entrance and it finds it a bit difficult to slip the head in at first, you're a tight squeeze.

" No. No, it won't fit!" It's thick and long, and so much bigger than a normal cock, and that thought terrifies you. You shriek as it inches into you slowly, pussy stretching to attempt to accommodate its thickness. You shake your head, crawling forward and attempting to escape the overwhelming intrusion. However, its deep snarl makes you whimper and freeze.

You weakly resist one last time, wriggling your hips to stop it from completely ruining you for any other man, but as it sinks into your quivering, messy cunt, you stop struggling.

Despite the tension in its muscles, it takes its time. The beast is exceptionally thick, so its cock is heavy inside you. The drag of its bulbous tip on your g-spot has you whimpering and drooling over yourself. Abruptly its massive frame envelops you, hands firmly gripping your hips.

How ironic, a canine-like creature ravishing you in the primal position of doggy style.

With a powerful thrust, it plunges its rigid cock deep inside you, its pelvis pressing against your ass. The weighty orbs of its balls collide against your clit, brimming with cum, and despite knowing you shouldn't, you crave every drop of its hot seed.

Your sight becomes hazy, and the world around you blurs as pleasure consumes you. It's an overwhelming sensation that brings tears to your eyes. Each touch from it sends electric shocks through your body, it's touching every nerve inside of you effortlessly. Despite feeling completely satisfied, a deep craving for more remains. The desire to feel it cum inside of you.

With each thrust, a creamy white residue encircles its cock and you're not sure how you've cum so many times in such a short period, but your eager, filthy little hole is starting to feel tender and sensitive. You're whining and whimpering, a blubbering mess below it. You need more.

It starts to speed up, hips stuttering, and a whine building in its throat. With one final forceful thrust, it buries itself deep inside you. Its primal roar echoes in your ears, yet you lack the strength to shield them.

The wet, erotic sound as it pumps you full of cum makes you orgasm once more. Your poor slutty hole clenching around it. You've lost track of time since you left the bar, and you don't know how long the two of been fucking. Exhaustion washes over you, and all you desire is to return home.

However, it appears that th beast has different intentions. Suddenly, it lifts you up, positioning itself on its hindlegs, and you find yourself sitting upright on its throbbing cock. One of its hands ventures beneath your band tee, discovering your erect nipples, while the other firmly grips your hip, effortlessly thrusting you onto its shaft as if you were its own personal fleshlight. Its muzzle nuzzles against your neck, sending shivers down your spine as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure, even though exhaustion consumes you.

–

When you came to, you were relieved to find yourself at your house, believing that maybe you had dreamt it, it couldn't have been real. But the evidence of your wild night with that beast is undeniable - the sticky puddle of cum on your sheets and the missed calls and texts from Barb serve as a tantalizing reminder. You can't remember how long he used your body for his pleasure but you do remember leaving a pool of cum where the two stayed that night. Though, one text stands out to you.

"Babe, a man came up to me earlier and said that he enjoyed you last night. WTF?! Bitch, spill."

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hollybell51 · 1 year

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Don't bet on it

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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?”

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful.

“(Y/N)?”

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine.

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?”

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?”

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added.

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.”

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.”

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression.

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly.

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once.

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink.

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily.

You smiled. “Lemonade.”

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently.

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter.

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly.

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.”

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face.

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.”

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.”

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left.

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them?

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.”

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it.

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off.

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you.

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?”

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing.

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing.

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows.

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him.

“It is.”

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.”

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.”

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright”

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking.

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you.

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.”

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?”

“No, we’ve got two singles.”

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.”

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.”

“I know, but–”

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”

“What’s that supposed to–”

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.”

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed.

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.”

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant.

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now.

“Would you like some help?”

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you.

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched.

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault.

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab.

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.”

“Should I keep going?”

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad.

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead.

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.”

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.”

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you.

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?”

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).”

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to.

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his.

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade.

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound.

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright.

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it.

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.”

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses.

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing.

He looked up, frowning. “What?”

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.”

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside.

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive.

You nodded. “Are you?”

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters.

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused.

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips.

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?”

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering.

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.”

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…”

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed.

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.”

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.”

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away.

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?”

He nodded.

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he murmured.

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him?

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him.

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment.

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed.

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.”

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?”

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked.

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.”

He stared. “Do you want to?”

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath…

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?”

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.”

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you.

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life.

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?”

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?”

“Mhm.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that.

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful.

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake.

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.”

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning.

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before.

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to.

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that.

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out.

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…”

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled.

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.”

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes.

“Mhm?”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Alright?”

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip.

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat.

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?”

You smiled. “Magic word?”

“Please,” he practically growled.

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute.

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–”

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.”

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure.

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade.

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely.

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).”

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair.

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.”

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless.

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.”

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright.

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face.

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting.

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up.

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?”

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?”

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.”

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.”

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning.

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body.

“Mhm.”

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most.

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.”

“I want you to feel–”

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?”

“But I’m–”

“Cas.”

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you.

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.”

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy.

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit.

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves.

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked.

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Yes, Cas, just like that.”

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.”

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly.

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good?

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully.

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps.

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?”

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing.

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said.

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you.

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine.

Cas froze immediately.

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.”

“Is this not–”

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs.

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small.

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face.

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.”

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.”

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged.

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable.

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.”

“I don’t want to squash you.”

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.”

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?”

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out.

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.”

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed.

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock.

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours.

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?”

He swallowed, his eyes dark.

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.”

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide.

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?”

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time.

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?”

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name.

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that.

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs.

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!”

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra.

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer.

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm.

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment.

“Hm?”

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.”

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.”

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be.

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch.

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat.

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed.

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?”

After a moment, he nodded.

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again.

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.”

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?”

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty.

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.”

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.”

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him.

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much.

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile.

“Hello.”

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).”

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.”

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully.

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…”

He waited, watching you stumble over your words.

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen.

“What do you want?” you growled.

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?”

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.”

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?”

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked.

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden.

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt.

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.”

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.”

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question.

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier.

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point.

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!”

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth.

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing.

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.”

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam?

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck.

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.”

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks.

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything.

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.”

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.”

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.”

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared.

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.”

“No? Who else?”

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now.

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.”

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all.

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas.

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.”

“No, I mean–”

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.”

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?”

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug.

Cas frowned. “Told him what?”

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!”

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.”

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?”

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas.

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.”

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.”

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?”

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.”

“Mhm, back at Stanford–”

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.”

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.”

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly.

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back.

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.”

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

3K notes · View notes

janeyseymour · 2 months

Note

hi i love ur writings so so much i’m so sorry this idea is rushed but i hope its enough

abbot family is trying to encourage melissa to “get back out there” and meet people after everything she’s been through. she brushes them off constantly until they stage an intervention during lunch and even barb is concerned for her work wife. melissa leaves this lunch with some big feelings because little does everyone know melissa has been seeing someone this whole time. comes home to reader smoking a joint while cooking in the kitchen and reader says something along the lines of “you look like you could use this more than me” and they make a plan together to introduce reader to everyone at a 4th of july bbq

you gonna get what you ask for 🤪 Not edited in the slightest. I got places to be and people to see

Intervention

WC: ~2.35k

It’s been a year and a half since Melissa Schemmenti publicly said no to a marriage proposal. A year and a half since the fiery redhead had gone out with anyone, and she really doesn’t have any plans to start dating again- at least that’s what the Abbott crew thinks.

The truth is, the second grade teacher has been seeing you since the night she went to the casino and bar to blow off some steam after reuniting with Gary to return his things and get her stuff back.

You were at one of the slot machines when the redhead passed by you, laughing.

“What’s so funny, Red?” you asked as you looked up at her.

“You ain’t gonna win no money that way,” the woman stopped in her tracks to tell you. “C’mon. Let me show you how it’s done.”

That night, you stuck by her side as you watched her win thousands of dollars at one table alone, clearing out quite a few men.

It’s late when she finally threw in the towel. She offered to walk you out to you car, and you took her hand in your own.

“So,” you exhaled a small cloud of smoke from the cigarette the two of you were sharing. “What are you gonna do with all that money you just won, pretty lady?”

“Take you out on a date,” Melissa had replied cooly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven?”

Neither of you looked back.

That was a year and three months ago. While your side of the family knew of your relationship with the teacher (and they absolutely adore her), her crew doesn’t have a single clue of your existence or rather large presence in Melissa’s life- despite the fact that you were now living together and your lives were intertwined.

So whenever anyone at Abbott tells Melissa that they found someone they think she might fancy, she just brushes them off.

“Janine, no offense, but if you think someone is worth dating, I would find them to be-”

“Hey,” Gregory cuts her off.

Melissa just shrugs. “My case in point. Greg, you know I love you like the black son I never had, but you’re boring as hell.”

“Ava, I am not about to go clubbing with you to pick up a man fifteen years my junior,” the redhead rolls her eyes.

“C’mon,” the principal chuckles. “They fun! They’re like energizer bunnies.”

“I barely have the energy to stand and get the remote from the other side of the room,” Melissa retorts as she opens her bottle of iced tea.

“I think you would like him!” Jacob pleads. “He saw your picture and said you were fine.”

“I am fine,” Melissa states, gesturing to her figure. “And I’m just as fine without a partner.”

It’s gotten to the point that even Barbara is concerned about her friend’s adamant denial to get herself back out there. So, the day that Melissa has recess duty, she brings it up to her coworkers.

“Now listen, I am not usually one for meddling in someone else’s love life, but don’t you think it’s concerning that Melissa flat out refuses to even attempt to put herself back out there?” the kindergarten teacher asks to the faculty room.

“Weird as hell,” Ava waltzes in, but having heard the question decides to chime in. “But aye, good for Schemmenti, realizing she don’t need no man in life.”

“I just find it odd…” Barbara taps her chin. “Melissa, while one with a tough exterior, loves love. She’s always wanted someone to spend her time with.”

“Maybe we should stage an intervention,” Jacob suggests. “To really show her that she’s good and healed from the failed proposal and to get back out there.

Gregory looks mildly impressed with that suggestion. “That might work.”

They have no idea that the entire time she’s supposed to be out monitoring the children on the blacktop, she’s smiling down at her phone like an idiot talking to you.

And when she comes home that day, she fully goes through with the things you two had texted about earlier.

The Abbott crew plans an intervention for Melissa- a banner, letters, all of it. When she comes into the staff room, smiling down at a midday text you had sent her, the rest of her colleagues are standing by the couch, looking somber.

“Fuck. Who died?” Melissa’s smile drops immediately.

“No one died, Melissa,” Barbara states.

“But we think a part of you might have,” Janine says dramatically, somberly.

“What the hell are youse talkin’ about?” thee redhead rolls her eyes.

“Melissa, dear,” Barbara says softly, calmly. She makes her way over to her friend and takes her by the hand to guide her towards the seat they had put in the middle of the room.

One by one, they read the letters that they had all written, expressing their concern for their favorite fiery Italian teacher.

“Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher finishes up. “We all love you dearly, and while we understand that it takes some time to get over the heartache that Gary caused, this is a bit extreme. We are worried.”

“An’ I appreciate the thought and care that you guys put into this,” Melissa tells them with a sigh. “But I promise youse: I’m fine. I don’t need to get back out there.” She almost adds on that it’s because she’s happily seeing someone, and has been since three months after her split from the guy that filled the vending machine.

“Just… know that we’re all here through all of your seasons,” Jacob tells her. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“We do care about you,” Janine says softly, and she offers the redhead a hug. Melissa doesn’t necessarily want to embrace the shorter woman, but she goes into the arms of her colleague.

Gregory just gives her a nod that conveys his love for his coworker, to which she smirks and nods right back in his direction.

“Now, can we eat lunch?” the redhead chuckles.

As the day passes on, Melissa comes to realize just how much her coworkers care for her- their gesture, albeit absolutely ridiculous and dramatic, was heartfelt and full of love. Maybe she should just come clean about the relationship she’s in. Or she could just buy them all some Philly soft pretzels and soda instead to thank them. Yeah… that’s what she’ll do for now before she can talk to you about how the two of you want to go public about your being together.

She orders the pretzels to be delivered to the school before the day is done, and when everyone is reconvening back in the faculty room to grab their lunch bags before heading home, Melissa makes sure she’s the first one down there. She has the box on one of the tables, along with a some cans of soda. Whatever they don’t take, the redhead knows will be eaten and drank at home.

“Oi,” she calls to her friends. “Come get a pretzel and a soda as my thanks for carin’ about me so much.”

They all light up at the sight of the gesture, aside from Gregory.

“I do not like pretzels, or soda, and for that reason I will not take one,” the man says as his friends dive in. “But thank you.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “I figured you would say that. Which is why I got you a bag of peanuts and a water.”

He looks mildly impressed and takes the offered items gratefully.

Once again, they all voice their love and care for the woman that gave them a salty treat before heading out for the night. Everyone except for Barbara. She waits for Melissa to clean up and gather her things before walking out with the woman.

“That was very sweet of you,” the kindergarten teacher nudges her friend.

Melissa huffs. “Oi. Don’t knock me like that.” She readjusts her grip on the small box of pretzels before sighing. “But it was just a thank you for caring.”

“We care about you a lot more than you know,” Barbara smiles. “And just so you know… you are a Philly eleven, and I do think you should get yourself back out there. I know it can be scary to put your heart back out there, but even if it ends in heartbreak and a few smashed in headlights, I will always be here to help you pick up the pieces.”

“I know, Barb,” the redhead says softly, so out of character. “Thank you.”

“Think about it!” the older woman says as she parts and heads off in the direction of her car.

With a sigh, Melissa unlocks her car and gets everything settled before slumping into the front seat.

Coming home with a treat, she texts you.

Is it you? You reply back.

She chuckles at that. She can practically see the smirk written on your face. You’ll see.

When she pulls in, she can smell you before she sees you. You’re clearing smoking, but she can also smell the delicious dinner that you’re making.

The redhead makes her way into the house, deep in thought of how much her friends are looking out for her, and attempting to piece together how to approach you about the topic of coming out.

It’s odd. Your girlfriend makes her way into the kitchen and places the box of pretzels down, but she doesn’t make her way over to you the way that she usually does. Instead, she’s looking down at the food, brows furrowed and deep in thought.

You turn the burner down to ensure that the food won’t burn or bubble over before making your way behind Melissa. You wrap the arm that isn’t holding the joint around her waist before holding it up to her lips and offering her some. Even in your somewhat inebriated state, you know something is up with her.

“You look like you could use this more than me,” you chuckle softly.

She shrugs, but does take a hit before blowing the smoke out.

“Hard day?” you ask her gently. “Need to be taken care of?”

Again, she shrugs. She doesn’t really know what to say. This is so unlike Melissa. Usually, she comes in huffing about the ridiculous antics of her boss, she bounces on her toes when she tells you the sweet things the kids had done or said, and she is more than willing to dish out the tea that was spilled in the staff lounge earlier that day.

“Mel?” you ask softly, taking a cheek in your hand and cupping it gently. You force her to look at you. “What happened today?”

She laughs softly, before full out cackling. This sudden change in mood startles you.

“Mel, babe, you’re scaring me,” you tell her. “What happened?”

She sits down and plucks the joint out of your hand. “The crew planned an intervention for me,” she tells you with a chuckle as you go back over to the stove.

You turn. “Oh?”

She nods, a playful smirk on her face.

“For?” you raise a brow. You turn your attention back to dinner. “Can I guess?”

“Sure, hun,” she laughs as she takes another drag.

“The aggression that you email the parents with?” No. “The heeled boots hitting the linoleum tile too loudly when you’re pissed?” No. “The arson?” No. “The threats of a bare knuckle fist fight?”

“Jesus,” Melissa laughs. “When you list all of that out, I sound like a terrible person.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I love everything about you!”

“I know you do,” she chuckles. “But no. None of that.”

“Then what?”

“My love life.”

“Your love life?” you turn to look at her incredulously.

“My love life,” the redhead sighs. “They had a banner, they had letters, they had the chair in the middle of the room… everything. And for me. When I don’t even have a problem with my love life.”

“So why did you come in lookin’ all sad?”

“Not sad… just thoughtful. The things they said… it showed me how lucky I am to have coworkers that care for me as deeply as they do. So at the end of the day, I had pretzels for them to show my gratitude. And after, Barbara and I walked out together… and… how would you feel about telling people that we’re together?”

You finish stirring the food and plating it before bringing it over to the table where your girlfriend is sitting. You set the two dishes in front of her before sliding into her lap. You finish off the joint together before smiling.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell her. “I’ve just been waiting for you to be.”

“Yeah?” she asks you as she kisses your temple.

You nod before taking a bite of your dinner. Damn, between the two of you, you should open your own restaurant. “We’ve been together for over a year, living together since six months in, I don’t plan on going anywhere, and I would hope you don’t either. I think it’s time.”

“I think so too,” she says softly. “But with the end of the year comin’ up… we’re all crazy busy.”

“So we can organize something for after the school year?” you suggest. “Maybe a fourth of July barbecue?”

So that’s what the two of you do. Your girlfriend walks into school on the last day and tells her friends that she knows that don’t have anything going on for Fourth of July, and they better be at her house for a barbecue. They all look at her, clearly confused. No one- not even Barb- has been invited over to the house since Melissa and Gary broke up. Nevertheless, they don’t argue and all promise to be there.

They all come in one clump, and the faces that they make when you open the door draped around Melissa are priceless.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” she says proudly. “The reason that I have been declining all of the people you’ve suggested I date, and the reason I have not ‘put myself back out there’. I don’t gotta when I have her.”

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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victoryverse · 1 month

Note

Hmm...i have this messy scenario where reader and Simon are like enemy/rival to each other—well actually it's only from Simon's side since he has crush on reader without him realizing it and he also doesn't know how to act regarding his feeling so yeah Simon being Simon—he acted like a jerk to his crush. And reader actually has no clue nor idea why Simon hates them, not to mention he always throw that distasteful glance to reader. So one day on a mission, Simon and reader end up as duo and when they are taking a break in a safehouse, there's only one bottle of water left. They kinda fight for it and it's obvious that Simon would win, so he chugs down almost whole bottle. Before he really finishes, Simon pulls reader's collar and kisses them while also pouring the water down to their mouth. It may extends into long short makeout session depends on Simon's true intention at the time :))

~🫧

rivals*

warnings: cursing, hate feeling, smut towards the end, kissing! 🙈

The tension between Simon and you had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks, like a volcano ready to erupt at any moment. From the moment you had been assigned as partners on missions, it was clear that there was an unspoken rivalry brewing between you, fueled by snide remarks and competitive banter.

Today was no different. As you found yourselves holed up in a safehouse during a particularly grueling mission, the atmosphere crackled with an intensity that was hard to ignore. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the only sound was the faint hum of the ventilation system.

You sat across from each other, both exhausted from the day's events, but neither willing to break the silence. The tension between you was suffocating, and you wished desperately for a distraction to break the ice.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you spoke up, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, this is cozy, isn't it? Two sworn enemies forced to share a safehouse. What could possibly go wrong?"

Simon's lips curled into a sneer as he met your gaze, his eyes cold and calculating. "Oh, I don't know, maybe you could try not getting in my way for once. That would be a nice change of pace."

You rolled your eyes, refusing to let his barbs get under your skin. "Please, Simon, like you're the picture of efficiency. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to sabotage our mission."

Simon's jaw clenched, his expression darkening with anger. "Funny, coming from the one who can't seem to follow orders without screwing up."

The words stung, but you refused to let him see how much they affected you. Instead, you shot back with a cutting remark of your own. "At least I don't let my ego get in the way of doing my job. Unlike some people I know."

Simon's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. "Watch it, Y/N, or you might find yourself on the wrong end of my fist."

You scoffed, unimpressed by his empty threats. "Please, Simon, we both know you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if your life depended on it."

The tension between you reached a boiling point, the air practically crackling with animosity. You both knew that this was a battle neither of you could win, but neither of you were willing to back down.

Just then, Simon reached for the last remaining bottle of water, his hand closing around it possessively. Your eyes widened in surprise, realizing that you were both reaching for it simultaneously.

"Hey, that's mine," you protested, trying to snatch it from his grasp.

Simon's lips curled into a smirk as he held the bottle just out of your reach. "Finders keepers, loser weepers," he taunted, his tone dripping with arrogance.

You scowled, feeling a surge of frustration coursing through you. "You can't be serious. We're supposed to be partners, Simon."

But Simon didn't seem to care. Instead, he twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long, exaggerated swig, relishing in your annoyance.

Before you could protest further, he leaned across the table, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck as he pulled you towards him. Your eyes widened in shock, your breath catching in your throat as his lips crashed against yours.

For a moment, you were too stunned to react, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But then, as the shock wore off, you found yourself melting into the kiss, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

Simon's lips were surprisingly soft against yours, his kiss filled with a raw intensity that sent shivers down your spine. You could taste the water on your lips, little drops pouring from his mouth into yours, that made the moment even more hotter.

As the kiss deepened, you felt Simon's other hand sliding down your chest, his touch sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. You knew you should pull away, that this was wrong on so many levels, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop. Not when he kissed you like that.

It was as if all the pent-up tension between you had finally reached its breaking point, and now, there was no turning back. You found yourself surrendering to the heat of the moment, allowing yourself to get lost in the sensation of Simon's lips against yours.

But just as quickly as it had begun, the kiss was over, leaving you breathless and bewildered. Simon pulled away, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at you, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, you simply stared at each other, both of you shocked. And then, as if on cue, the reality of the situation came crashing down around you.

"What… what was that?" you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Simon's expression softened, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. "I… I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heartbeats. "I just… I couldn't stand the thought of you being mad at me anymore."

You blinked in surprise, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly falling into place. So that was it – all this time, Simon had been acting like a jerk because he couldn't deal with his own feelings for you.

A wave of sympathy washed over you and you reached out, tentatively placing a hand on his arm.

"I didn't realize," you murmured, your voice soft with compassion. "I had no idea you felt that way."

Simon looked at you, his gaze searching yours for any sign of rejection. But all he found was warmth and acceptance, a silent invitation. The hate and regret was melting into something else, and soon, he pulled his lips back on yours, his ahds gripping your waist harshly and pulling you on him completely.

You straddled his thigh, his rough hands grabbing handfuls of your flesh and moans spilling from your lips as she grabbed an spanked your ass.

"Simon, oh godd--"

Your words remained lodged in your throat, as he flipped you over, making you lay down on the floor and gripping your bulletproof jacket, pulling it off you. He pulled the intercom too, and you gasped as he began undoing your belt.

"But, but si--the mission?" you asked, your voice ragged and breathless.

"Fuck the mission. All I want to concentrate on is you and this tight little pussy of yours"

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cosmicstarlatte · 9 months

Text

Coffee Shop (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

You start a new job at a coffee shop in a popular plaza. You can't help but look forward to a certain regular. ♡

»Characters: Demon Bros + Dia + Barb

»Tags: Fluff, Bulleted Style, GN Reader, LeviLeviLevi-

»Notes: lol when was the last time I made a bulleted fic that wasn't a shitpost???🤯 Just simple short fluff lol, reblogs are appreciated + motivating ♡

Lucifer:

Always orders a cafe con leche every morning

Keeps interactions short but you learned his name

Always so serious but he does look like a business man

A very very handsome business man cough

After working there for a little bit he admits he likes the way you make his drink & hates when you guys miss each other on days off

One day he comes in normal clothes & you got caught off guard when he made it to the register

"It's my day off but I was craving my usual. I'm glad to see you're here."

Pleaseee you gotta be blushing right now alalfkfldk

You notice the record store bag he's holding & start a fun conversation while its slow

It does get busier & unfortunately have to cut the conversation to both your disappointments

"We can continue this later...maybe over dinner if you're available?"

Mammon:

Usually gets an icy blended drink, the flavor changes frequently

You see him every other day, it looks like he works at a retail store in the plaza

You thought he was cute & funny despite how loud he could be

One day he defends you against a really rude customer

You say your thank yous & give him his drink for free that day

"Yeah I guess I am a hero. Heroes get free drinks all the time though, ya?"

You couldn't help but laugh & accidentally let slip "you're really cute!"

He starts choking on his drink, stuttering & blushing

He goes silent for a moment before asking, "whaddaya say to a date one of these days?"

Levi:

Usually orders sweet drinks & likes trying seasonal/limited time things

You've seen him at his job at the anime store in the plaza, since you visit there sometimes

You two are on friendly terms even though he can be awkward

You think he's very cute though, especially when he talks about his passions

You felt like you two were dancing around eachother so you decide to make a move

You drew a Gundam robot on his drink & wrote 'Gun-DAM you're cute!'

You nervously handed the drink & he took it without noticing the drawing on it

You watched as he left the shop,took another sip, then stop as he looked at his drink

You could see he was happily freaking out but then abruptly stop

He looked back to the shop & you waved a shy hello

He ran back inside to make sure, "S-sorry is this a mistake? W-was this for someone else??"

"Look on the bottom"

He raised the cup & looked under

Levi, AkuCon this weekend?

Satan:

Usually orders a simple cappuccino but will add a flavored syrup occasionally

Comes in often on his breaks

You've seen him working at the bookstore in the plaza

He looks like a simple guy yet very charming

You always notice a book on him & one day you decide to ask what he's reading

You learn you read the same things & start having fun conversations every time he stops by

Eventually he asks you if you'd be able to give your thoughts on his writing

"Sure, I'd be happy to read it if you bring it!"

He gave you a flirty smile

"Actually I was thinking maybe we could hang out...like somewhere that's not here?"

Asmo:

Always orders an iced vanilla oat milk latte

You see him every few days, really friendly customer that loves to chat & you become friends quick even though you want more

You find out he works at a nearby agency & is an up & coming model

You felt a little intimidated, he could be really famous one day!

Nevertheless you treat him just the same even as those around him changed, he lets you know how grateful he is

One day he comes in upset & tells you the agency is moving across town to a bigger location so he won't be able to see you there anymore

At the same time both of you blurt out

"I still wanna see you!"

Beel:

You never know with this guy

He works in the sports store across from the cafe

He's always indecisive with the menu & one day just tells you to make whatever

You're his fave barista, he thinks you make the best drinks either way

Doesn't realize he just likes everything & has a crush on you

You can't help but get excited when he looks excited to see you golden retriever energy

You find out he's a foodie type & you guys talk about the local spots around town

"Would you like to check out the new sandwich store that opened a few doors down? Uh...like, maybe a date?"

Belphie:

Usually orders a hot regular latte but occasionally orders hot chocolate

He appears to be a student as he comes in often to study & always looks tired

One day on your break you decide to chat him up & offer help on the subject he was struggling with

He thought you were cute & was thankful for your help

After a few weeks of tutoring (+some heavy flirting), he passed his exam flawlessly

"Actually can you help me with one other thing?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Would you like to go on a date sometime?"

Diavolo:

Has a new favorite every week but really likes lattes/teas

You can tell he's important with his assistant present

You wonder why the assistant doesnt just get his order though

Anyway hes hot really friendly & chatty & can tell a few good jokes, you appreciate them!

He always seems reluctant to leave the shop which makes your heart flip

Always leaves a big tip! ... I want him to give me a big tip 😔

The two of you find out you have a lot more in common than you thought

One day he admits that these coffee runs are the things he looks forward to the most since his day is usually very busy & doesn't get much else normalcy

He lets slip that it's mainly seeing you that adds to his joy so he goes all in

"If you're interested, care to join me for dinner this weekend?"

Barbatos:

Always large orders of a few different drinks (part of his job)

Though you notice he always orders tea for himself & likes to buy different tea blends

He's a very (cute) polite customer, one of the few

You two usually chat as you make his large order & you can't help but fall for him

Knowing he loves to buy limited release tea blends, you usually save him one before the cafe sells out

You never tell anyone about it but:

"I appreciate you always saving me one."

"Oh? How did you know!?"

"I have a friend who stopped by earlier & said it was one of those times they missed out. Yet, there always appears to be one for me even after sell-out. Thank you kindly."

You blush at being found out, "seems I've been caught!"

He chuckles & gives you another shock:

"I've been meaning to ask...will you allow me to take you out one of these days?"

⬦You might also like: Customer Service︱Devil-Mart ⭐️︱You Are The Father︱MC feeling Insecure

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹#obey me fluff #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

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jeridandridge · 2 months

Text

Hey Jealously

Reader doesn’t like when the vending machine guy flirts with Melissa.

This is a quick drabble, trying to get my brain going again. Feel free to send requests!

“I’m just saying if they cast a man in that role the character wouldn’t have gotten so much hate.”

“It’s okay, dude.” You laugh patting Jacob’s shoulder, sitting with him and Janine so Mel and Barb can have their time during lunch.

The relationship with the devastatingly gorgeous redhead was still new, but you had the feeling others were catching on. Neither you or Melissa tried to hide anything, but you both toned down the PDA when at work because of the setting itself.

“What’s the kid whining about now?” Melissa asks shifting in her seat, glasses on the bridge of her nose.

Smiling at your girlfriend you open your mouth to explain, only to stop short when vending machine guy comes in.

“How are my favorite teachers doin?” He asks with a smile on his stupidly huge Neanderthal face. Okay, maybe that was harsh, but you didn’t like how he flirted with Melissa.

Last Thursday he brought her a whole case of her favorite iced tea. The week before that he tried talking her into going out with him which she politely declined, and now he looks at Melissa like an animal hunting its prey.

“Good now that we got Gushers back in the machine,” Leave it to Janine’s sunny disposition to ease the tension you’re feeling. You watch closely as Gary eyes your lady, and it makes you see red. You hadn’t felt the need to say anything to Melissa about the vending machine guy, she never flirted back but you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy you felt.

“Hey Philly 11, you put any thought into my offer?” He grins not having a clue as to what’s going on.

The look on your face must worry Janine and Jacob, because Jacob stands up and leaves the table going to the sink.

“Nah, Gary. I got other stuff going on.” A good response, you think. She’s still facing your table and hasn’t looked up from her phone.

“If you change your mind I-“

“She said she’s got other stuff going on.” You huff firmly.

Barb is the first to look at you, missing the smirk on her friends face. Gary nods cowering away with his cart, not to be seen again until next week.

Feeling your skin flush you duck your head meeting Melissa’s eyes. As the redhead stands up you sit back in your chair leaning into her when she wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind kissing your cheek. “Jealous there, hon?”

Janine is pouting at the two of you, looking back and forth between your table and Barb like a deer in the headlights.

Barb laughs shaking her head with a knowing smile looking at you. “Ava owes me a significant amount of money. Good job, sweetheart.”

#I don’t hate Gary honestly #he’s just an easy character to use for these plots lol #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #Melissa Schemmenti #Melissa Schemmenti x reader #wlw

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hornedqueenofhell · 4 months

Text

Holiday in... Handcuffs? Pt. 1

A Steddie Christmas AU where Steve volunteers to spend Christmas with Eddie and Wayne, but due to a series of errors the Party thinks Steve has been kidnapped.

Eddie groans as he wakes up, the sun hitting his square in the eye. He rolls over to escape it and squints at his clock for a moment before the swimming numbers register as him being very late.

“Oh fuck!” He throws himself out of bed and scrambles back into last night's jeans and a t-shirt before pulling out his boyfriend's black cowl neck sweater to wear. He tucks his nose into the hem and inhales as he shoves his feet into his boots and grabs his jacket, wallet and keys before tearing out of the apartment. The day might have gotten off to a bad start but he knew it would get better.

It does not get better. He got a lecture about being late and grease on his shirt from a car that had poured antifreeze in the oil tank. He ended up skipping lunch because he had to help one of the other guys after a car’s engine made a valiant effort of falling out. Then his boyfriend broke up with him over a text message and not even two hours later said he was in a relationship with someone else. If it wasn’t freezing cold outside he’d burn the stupid sweater he was wearing and be done with it all. The worst part was, that afternoon they were supposed to drive up to his Uncle Wayne’s cabin to spend Christmas together.

In the face of all that Eddie thinks he’s earned going to the bakery owned by this cute guy he enjoys trading witty barbs with just before closing, to get a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee. He catches said owner, Steve, right as he’s shooing out the last of his customers and really hopes he isn’t about to have another door shut in his face.

“H-hey man.” Eddie asks shakily, he’s on the verge of a sniffle and he knows he doesn’t know Steve all that well outside of his ownership of the bakery. He thinks the guy might have a brother? There’s always a group of pre-teens hanging out there.

The taller man looks him over head to toe and steps aside to let him in, “Come on in Eddie.” He offers softly, like he can already read everything in just the slump of Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie tries not to tear up at the first bit of kindness he’s had on this frustrating day and instead finds himself curling up in an armchair in front of the electric fireplace and wrapping his arms around himself miserably.

“You wanna talk about it?” Steve asks gently as he sets a cinnamon roll and two cups of homemade apple cider on the coffee table before taking the chair next to him. When Eddie hesitates, biting his lip as he tries to keep it together, Steve backtracks instead, “It’s okay, you don’t have to, I know we aren’t friends man. I can wrap this up to go if you want to-”

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, the word crackling through the air between them like ice. “It’s not… I… I just had the day from hell and was trying to figure out how to put it into words. He picks up his fork and stabs a piece of the cinnamon roll off to eat before spilling his guts to the brunette. He ends up talking for almost two hours, going beyond this one day to how his life has always felt like a series of wrong turns and how it all leads up to this moment. Steve is a good listener and really easy to talk to when he offers up his own experiences in response to Eddie.

“...and the worst part is I was so excited to finally introduce a good man to my Uncle, to let him know that I’m doing alright. That I’ve got someone in my life. And now…” Eddie swipes roughly under his eyes before taking a sip of his now cooled cider, “now, I feel like showing up alone is just going to prove that I’m an absolute failure in every fucking way to him. He’d never think that of me, I know he wouldn’t, but I think it of me.”

Steve’s hand covered his as soon as he’d set the mug back down, squeezing his fingers gently until Eddie glanced up at him, “You’re not a failure Eddie. You have persevered through so much, been through things that would turn lesser men into cruel bastards like our parents, but instead you turned around and offered a hand to those who needed you, you gave them a safe place to be themselves.”

“That means a lot coming from you sweetheart. Thank you.” He lets himself flirt lightly as he squeezes Steve’s hand and leans back in his chair, the leather now warmed and soft. After a glance outside reveals the start of a flurry he looks at his watch again and sighs. “I better start driving if I want to get to the cabin at a reasonable hour.” He stands and scrubs his hands over his face with a sigh, “Don’t know what the fuck I’m going to tell Wayne.”

“Well, what if I went with you?”

Eddie’s fingers are still tugging his lower lids down as he turns to look at Steve. “What?”

Steve is sporting a faint blush and rubs the back of his neck shyly, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze as he repeats himself. “What if I came with you, to your Uncle’s?”

“Don’t you have plans for the holidays? Family or friends to see?” Eddie folds his arms around himself and worries that he might have complained too much if Steve is offering to ditch his plans for him.

“Well I don’t speak to my parents so I usually bounce between my kids places for dinner on Christmas Eve before spending the 25th in my underwear watching tv and eating leftovers. Going up to your Uncle’s cabin sounds more like a vacation in my opinion, and you said you didn’t want to go alone so…” Steve trails off with a faint shrug.

“Uhh If you’re sure then yeah, you’re welcome to come. What about the shop though?” He gestures at the building they’re in and Steve just grins.

“We’re closed tomorrow and the 25th, Robin can run the shop on the 26th and I know some of the kids are dying to try their hands at taking on more responsibility too. I can let them have that for one day.” Steve stuffs his hands in his pockets with a bashful grin that has Eddie tugging his hair over his mouth with a small smile of his own.

“Well then, I guess if I’m your last resort besides eating stuffing in your underwear...” Eddie teases before breaking down into giggles as Steve shoves him before laughing as well, “Do you need a ride to yours to pack a bag?”

“Nope, come on back.” Steve tugs on his sleeve before leading him behind the counter and up a flight of stairs into a comfortable loft apartment above the shop. There were plants and pictures everywhere, which Eddie decided to snoop through while Steve walked through the door to presumably his bedroom. There was Steve and a pretty blonde girl in a lot of them, birthdays and cookouts, with a bunch of teenagers and a couple other adults around them. He recognizes most of the kids as frequenters of the shop, or in the blonde’s case, his co-owner.

“Your family is lovely.” He says as Steve watches him snoop from the doorway, turning to look he sees the younger brunette blushing lightly.

Steve steps over to Eddie, joining him at the wall of memories that he and Robin so meticulously put up, his hand brushes across Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie has never seen him look more comfortable. “They’re all incredible pains in my ass but I love them so much. How long of a drive is it to your Uncles? Should I bring anything?”

“Bring anything? Darling you’ve been invited for like ten minutes you don’t have to bring shit.” Eddie chuckles but Steve gets that stubborn set to his pouty lips and Eddie knows he’s losing this one.

“I have a bottle of wine in the kitchen, I’m bringing it.” He thumps his fist lightly between Eddie’s shoulder blades, before sliding it down to scratch his nails over Eddie’s lower back and drifting towards the kitchen. Completely heedless to how he’s turned Eddie’s knees to jelly as he pushes the straps of his bag up onto his shoulder.

“Yes dear.” Eddie teases, turning to watch him as he goes. Those jeans do great things for the baker's ass. “Should be about two hours by the way.” He calls to the other man’s retreating back.

“Do you think your uncles has the stuff to make cinnamon rolls?” Comes from the kitchen and just the mention of them has Eddie ready to fall to fall to his knees and worship Steve. Would Wayne kill him if he hooked up with Steve at the cabin? Steve certainly seems interested in him at least.

“If he doesn’t then there’s a market about twenty minutes from the cabin where we can get ingredients. You really don’t have to go to all this trouble though.” Eddie says as Steve walks back over to him and pushes a bottle of wine into his hands with a soft smile.

“I have to make your Uncle like me somehow, since you told him you were bringing a good man home to meet him. Gotta live up to those Munson standards somehow.”

Eddie catches Steve’s hand before he can flit away to grab his keys to lock up. Steve gives him a curious look as Eddie reels him back in and dips to brush a gentle kiss across Steve’s cheek. “You are already a far better man than the shitbag I was going to bring with me, and I know Wayne is going to love you.”

Steve reaches up with his free hand and touches Eddie’s jaw, thumbing over the start of a five o’ clock shadow, and leans in until their lips are inches from each other, “I want to kiss you, so much. But I don’t want to be your rebound, that wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

Eddie exhales loudly, can practically taste the sweetness of Steve’s mouth on his as his hands curl around Steve’s hips and pull him in even closer, “You will never be a rebound to me, but I understand your concerns. Don’t think for a second I’m not going to play as dirty as possible for that kiss though.” He can feel Steve shiver under his grip as he nips the tip of Steve’s chin, just barely brushing against his lower lip.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, I hope you’re ready to play though because I’m a romantic at heart.” He bops Eddie on the nose and finally gets his keys while Eddie resists the urge to slam Steve against the wall and bite down on his pretty neck. He growls and chases Steve back downstairs into the shop, both of them giggling like loons all the way out onto the street.

Steve locks up the shop and slips his hand into Eddie’s after tucking the wine bottle away in his bag, fingers sneaking into the flap of his gloves that cover the tips of his fingers and twining them together. Eddie gives his fingers a squeeze as he starts leading them over to his truck, “Do you need to tell your kids about your change of plans? Because service up by the cabin can get spotty, we have a satellite phone but it’s mostly for emergencies.”

“Oh shit yeah, thank you. Wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re kidnapping me.” They snicker and shoulder check each other again, sliding around on the icy concrete as Steve pulls out his phone and dials Dustin.

“Hey kiddo!” Steve says, the words come out a little breathy as he almost slips on the ice and Eddie catches him, tugging him in close.

“Steve, you good?” They can both hear through the phone's speaker as Steve finds himself leaning into Eddie again.

“Yeah kid I’m fine, just slipped on some ice. I just wanted you to know that I won’t be able to-”

“Move!” Eddie shouts as he yanks Steve away from the curb. A truck takes the corner they’re standing on too hard and kicks up a bunch of muddy slush. They both go crashing to the pavement, Eddie’s pants now soaked and freezing as the asshole has the audacity to honk at them. “Fuck you asshole!” He snarls before checking on Steve.

“Jag off.” Steve huffs, accepting Eddie’s hand to get them back to their feet. Eddie’s starting to shiver so he encourages the older man to get them to his car, the sooner they can warm Eddie up the better. Their breathing comes heavy over the phone and Steve can hear Dustin freaking out, trying to shout something about details and descriptions to him. His screen is cracked now and wet from landing in the snow.

“Steve? Steve! Where are you?!” The call is starting to crackle a bit and Steve swears lowly, speaking louder in hope Dustin will be able to hear him.

“Relax Dustin! I’m not being kidnapped or anything. I’m going to a friend's cabin a few hours away for Christmas this year.” Eddie opens the door to his Range Rover and offers Steve a hand up.

“In you go princess.” He purrs low in Steve’s ear, making the other man blush.

“Goodbye Dustin, I love you!” He hangs up as Eddie swings himself up into the car as well.

“All good?” Eddie asks as he gets the car started and the heater going. Steve tucks his phone away with a gentle smile and lays his hand on the center console, an offer Eddie accepts once he’s pulled away from the curb and they are officially on their way.

“Yeah, he can tell the others that I won’t make it this year. I left a note for Robin too so she knows what’s going on.”

“Good, wouldn’t want your family to think I actually kidnapped you. At least not without your permission.” He winks and lifts Steve’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Oh, and what would kidnapping me with my permission look like?” Steve teases as they both laugh.

“How do you feel about handcuffs princess?”

Meanwhile Dustin stood in his room, a hand clamped over his mouth as tears began to stream down his face. The horrible sounds replaying in a loop in his head, “...in…I’m-...eing kidnap-...goin…cabin…ew hours…his…ear.” Steve, his older brother, his best friend had just been kidnapped. And he’d heard the kidnappers' voice too, the condescending and predatory growl coming through crystal clear as he took Duston’s family away, “In you go princess”. Swiping his sleeve across his face Dustin starts messaging the rest of the Party before calling Hopper, he was not going to let those be Steve’s last words.

Pt 2

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #dustin henderson #robin buckley #Baker!Steve #mechanic!eddie #modern au #no upside down au #comedy of errors #accidental kidnapping #steddiefic chronicles

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powderblueblood · 16 days

Text

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER TEN — THE NEW FACE OF FAILURE

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: a surprise visitor shows up at nancy wheeler's house during your sleepover. eddie has a run-in with steve harrington and gets some hard-to-choke down news from a teacher. things with your newly released convict father seem to be going... eerily well. content warnings: does excessive yappin count. cussin! shitty dads! allusion to past physical abuse! drugs and smoking! heavy pettin! lovesick and scared about it edlacy! word count: 11.6k

Dear reader,

For the first time in forever, I have nothing smart to say. I mean, really. For the first time in forever, when things have reached a previously unprecedented crescendo of shit-hitting-fannery, when my life has truly shown every possible sign of being headed toward complete ruin, when it’s not just opposite day but bizarro world incarnate, I feel…

Good.

Because I’m looking at him.

And he’s looking back at me.

And Nancy Wheeler is yelling for him to get in the goddamned window.

Eddie Munson has no business standing outside the Wheeler’s garage with a fistful of pebbles, cautiously flicking them at a second story window, yet he is. The soft pelting noise had made your neck jerk up from where it craned over Nancy’s nails, painting them a springy green and go, “Do you hear that or is it my paranoia talking?”

See, when you woke up that morning, you knew you had two phone calls to make. Instead of using the traceable line of your house phone, you’d snatched a handful of quarters and booked it to the payphone at the edge of the lot. You’d almost stopped at the Munson trailer, tossing your own rocks at Eddie’s window, but thought better of it– there was always a chance that the newly exonerated (sort of) Ray Doevski would be peering through the blinds, taking a Rear Window affect to his newly instated house arrest.

Yeah. House arrest, and you were sure that the same crack had run concurrently through the minds of you and both your parents– we’d hardly call this a house. But Ray was ordered to stay put, and even had this nutty gadget tagged to his ankle, this new fangled monitor that they were just rolling out.

“Always on the cutting edge, aren’t you, Daddy?”

With shaking fingers, you thunked in Eddie’s number, which he’d scrawled inside the cover of a Flannery O’Connor short story collection you’d been carting around a couple of months ago. It was one of those days that came up every now and again, where you couldn’t quite keep the lid on feeling blue. The weight of everything came down on you in an avalanche, leaving you unable to throw your pithy remarks into conversation with him or with Ronnie like you usually would’ve. Pretty much silent, pretty much staring a hole through the middle distance. He grabbed the book from you in the library during free period, your free period which he wasn’t even in, and whispered, “Just in case that curse gets lifted and you get your voice back. I’m sure you’ve got, like, a laundry list of barbs you’ve been dying to unload on me all day.”

You remembered the way his eyes softened as he slid the book back to you, pressing his ringed hand against the cover for a couple seconds longer than he needed to.

“Or just… for anything, y’know. We can just talk. About nothing. If it helps.”

At the time, you fought the instinct to put your hand over his.

“Won’t Wayne care that I’m calling?” you’d crackled, voice weary from underuse.

Eddie shrugged. “Not if you pretend you’re Gareth.”

And that was exactly what you were hoping you wouldn’t have to do, shivering in your thin sweater as the dial tone to the Munson’s droned out. What if Wayne answered? What if you couldn’t rightfully approximate the voice of a balls-half-dropped freshman? What if he knew it was you, what would he do?

Well, you needn’t have worried, because you apparently had a future in impressions. You squeaked out something about being the aforementioned Emerson looking for Eddie (at this ungodly hour of the morning?), something about Hellfire.

“Gareth the Great! What’s the problem, the Arcane Brotherhood finally scoop your ass? Need me to come bust you from their tower? I told you, goin’ all Fear and Loathing in Luskan is gonna cost y–”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie, it’s me,” you chattered, but even through the worry, a tiny smile pulled at your lips.

“Uh. Disregard everything I just said.” His voice had an early-morning static to it that you wanted to stay tuned into. “Hi!”

“Hi.”

“Hi… are you… shivering right now? Need me to come warm you up, because I’d be more than happy to cr–”

“Eddie, I’m at the payphone–”

“--what the hell are you doin’ out there?”

“--will you shut up so I can tell you? I don’t have a lot of time, so I need to cut right to the chase.”

“Sorry,” and this breathy little laugh runs through his voice that nearly knocks you clean out. God. What you wouldn’t give to hear that breathed into your ear instead of through some handset flaking rust. “Please, cut away.”

But, uh, yeah. That other thing.

“My father got out of prison some-fucking-how–”

“Wait, what? Like he esc–,” you listen as Eddie drops his voice to a hiss, “Like he escaped?!”

“Oh my god, let me finish! –but, psh, no. Ray Doevski is a man of manicured hand, alright, he’s not tunneling out of anywhere. It’s all apparently legally above board, but… he’s– he’s at home. He’s in the trailer… He’s there right now.”

The fear in your chest was beginning to make your breathing feel white hot, hard to get out. Walls closing in. Your dad is at home. He is in your trailer. He is there right now. Five minutes alone in your room, a flick of his eyes over your belongings, he’ll know everything– everything that you’ve done–

You didn’t even notice that your breaths were turning into low, panicked gasps until Eddie’s voice broke through the receiver again.

“Lace, stay put. I’m comin’ out there.”

“Eddie, no!” you barked down the phone, and a couple of birds scattered from the powerline overhead. Despite the fact that you were pretty sure collapsing into Eddie’s arms would have put a temporary stopper on the panic, you weren’t awarded such luxuries in this life. Figures. “I’ve got to get back to have some phony-ass breakfast with them in, like, now and you cannot be seen near me. Not here, okay?”

What Eddie crackled back with was like a shot of adrenaline to the heart chamber. It wasn’t a plea, or a demand. He simply said, brimming with a bright resolve, “Say the word and I’m there. Right next to you. Hear me?”

You had never heard anyone sound so sure about you before.

Well, Eddie’s valiance was rivaled only by Nancy Wheeler, who you phoned up next. Karen Wheeler answered in a chirpy voice that even sounded blonde, her voice pitching higher when you announced who was calling.

“Oh, Lacy! Of course. I’ll grab her for you, sweetie.” A little too goddamn knowing-sounding for your liking.

But Nancy was all firm edges, picking up on the tremble in your voice just like Eddie had. “Well, you’re coming over. Obviously. Pack a bag– we need to put in serious work for that Streak article you’re finishing, right? Might even be an all-nighter. I’ll order pizza.”

With your dad shackled to the trailer and your mom reluctant to leave his side, there wasn’t a whole lot they could do to prevent you from swanning off to the Wheeler residence. Had to stay true to your commitments, after all, something your dad constantly impressed upon you. But when you reminded him of this as you hitched your overnight bag over your shoulder, heading out to Nancy’s waiting car, he met you with a serene smile.

“Of course, honey. Do what you need to do.” No argument. No pushback. Not even a snide remark. That chilled you to the bone.

You attempted to distract yourself from… well, the whole meal of it, by allowing the Precious Moments-themed decor of the Wheeler household to wash over you. The house is warm and chintzy inside, with shoes piled up by the door and laundry overflowing in baskets. Nancy’s bedroom is just as achingly normal in tones of pink and cream, a sanctuary and a strangle between girlhood and growing up. She’d shyly batted a couple of stuffed animals away from the bed that had seen the throes of her and Steve Harrington. Her Tom Cruise poster hangs opposite a pinboard of college brochures. Barbara Holland’s memorial card on her mirror.

Guilt and innocence and upward mobility.

As you looked around, you thought about the photo strips from the mall of you and Tina and Cass and Carol, how they were stuffed away in a box somewhere. You made a mental note to tug Nancy into the next photobooth you both came across. And Ronnie, for that matter.

Nancy was kind about everything, of course, like she always is; she didn’t push for information about your dad’s surprise return, but you gave it pretty willingly as you cracked into her Cosmo and nail polish collection. Everything but the you and Eddie of it all… that juicy morsel you were saving until the witching hour struck, the customary time for girls to tell secrets at sleepovers.

But somebody always has to try and get the jump on you.

Which is how you and Nancy end up hanging out of her window, a beaming Eddie staring up at you from the pavement.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” Nancy hisses, her eyes panicked and flaring.

“I’m not entirely sure,” but even through the initial flash of panic, your voice has taken on this dreamy quality that makes Nancy roll her eyes–and rightfully so! “Munson, what say you? What the hell are you doing down there?”

“I–”

Nancy doesn’t even let him finish, just lets out an exasperated sigh and tells him, “Just– come up here, alright? I do not want to answer for what’s gonna happen if my dad catches you in the driveway!”

Without a second thought, Eddie makes to hoist himself into Nancy’s dinky bedroom window. He falls over the little seat in a jangle of silver and leather and hair and gleaming teeth– “Ow! Jesus!” “Eddie, shut. Up!” Nancy winces, you wince, but as Eddie rolls onto his back and clears the hair out of his eyes, you realize that fluttering in your stomach is not a fight or flight response.

He smiles up at you, all teeth and mischief. “Hi. Whatcha doin’?”

Oh, no.

You nudge him in the ribs with your foot, way too light for him to yelp like that. Nancy looks like she’s going to kick the shit out of him for real–and you too, maybe.

“You’re telling me you didn’t know about this?” she demands, turning on you. You notice that she’s still holding her fingers aloft, which you appreciate! No one seems to care about manicures as much as you do. It’s nice to finally be seen, for Chrissake.

“Like I’d bring the heat around your place, Nancy! Come on, currently in a precarious situation much?”

Hilarious to describe Eddie Munson as heat when he is, at best, a bull in Wheeler’s overstuffed china shop. Adorably so, you have to concede, watching him pick up a little porcelain figurine from her dresser.

Nancy’s not buying it.

“I plead the eternal fifth!” you exclaim, eyes wide and willing the laugh to stay out of your voice as Eddie peers around Nancy’s stuff. “He operates on his own logic.”

Nancy eyes you warily before her gaze darts to Eddie. “Can you not touch anything? ”

“You have a cat just like this!” Eddie barks.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” the both of you chorus.

Delicately, Eddie replaces the little ceramic cat with a severely offended look. “Sheesh, ladies, I thought we were friends.” He drops the pretense pretty fast, jerking his chin in your direction with a smile that has I ain’t goin’ nowhere written all over it. “I need a word with the duchess here.”

“So leave a message!”

“He can’t–” “--you think we got answering machines in Forest Hills?” “--my dad–” “--life might be different for all you up here on Maple–” “--will have him taken out by sniper rifle.” “--you know this woman used a payphone for the first time in her life today?”

A squinting Nancy lets this settle in the air for a second, like a stink bomb that’s just been deployed. I mean, you don’t know if she can see it exactly, but the charge between you and Eddie isn’t exactly subtle. Changed, maybe, from will-they-won’t-they to they-did-and-it’s-hazardous. Realization soon dawns on her.

“Oh, you–ohhh,” Nancy nods, and chirps another, “Oh!”

Then, a thunderous hammering that just about brings down Nancy’s bedroom door. The three of you lurch and freeze. Your hand instinctively goes to grab Eddie’s arm, fingers finding the soft leather. Your lashes flutter.

“Nan-cyyyyy!”

That high-pitched, middle-schooled, reedy little tone? “Oh, shit. It’s just Mike.”

“Mom said you were getting pizza so you have to get a pie for me and the guys! Wait,” some juvenile sounding muttering, “Two pies!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Nancy snarls, in the way only an older sister can, “I… am going to go out there and run interference and you– five minutes, okay?! I’m–” She goes so far as to set a timer on her watch. “I mean it.”

Both you and Eddie make noises in the affirmative, him sidling closer and closer to you as Nancy moves out of the room. But she pivots, nailing you both with pointed index fingers. “And don’t– don’t you even think about it. You two are not subtle, I will know!”

“Wheeler, I resent that perverted implication!” Eddie hisses, but his fingers are already walking themselves over the curve of your ass. You’d say something if you weren’t desperately trying to keep yourself under control.

“Mike, quit yelling the house down like an asshole!” “Who is that? Have you and Lacy got a guy in there? Gross, are you sharing a boyfriend or something?” “Shut up, don’t be disgusting, I’ll kill you, get downstairs!”

Soon as Nancy’s door clicks behind her, you wrestle an easily malleable Eddie down to sit on the bed and climb right into his lap, thighs planting either side of him. Your body is completely abuzz now that you’re alone with him again, physical form melding instantly to the heat of his body. Eddie’s gaze darkens just a touch, like he’s dimmed the switch inside his head from mischievous to slightly dastardly. “Oh, shut up!” you say, and catch your mouth on his.

“I didn’t say shit!” Eddie breathes in return, falling right into your rhythm.

“You heard the chief,” you struggle through desperate lip smacking; that lived in taste of him, cigarettes and sweet soda, makes your head feel all baubly on the stem of your neck, “Five minutes,” Eddie’s hands web into your hair, your knees sag into the comforter, “Explain yourself.”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Eddie’s mouth clicks sweetly against yours, words a bullshit mumble against your tongue. A heady mix of relief and desire flood you as you brace your hands around his shoulders.

“Don’t lie,” you say, tinge of a whimper creeping in as Eddie’s grip starts to harden, indenting the flesh of your thigh. “I’ll kill you.”

Looking at his grin is one thing, but feeling it against your neck as his mouth embarks on its own journey is something completely different. “Prom–”

“Eddie, how did you even know I was here?” A light, mindless slap comes down on his shoulder. Your breathing is becoming troublingly labored, head becoming troublingly spinny as Eddie’s teeth graze your collarbone.

“Rudimentary guesswork!” he gasps, coming up for air that’s soon stolen by the ready plushness of your mouth. “Okay. Okay. Fine, I saw Wheeler pick you up in her goddamn station wagon and–” Eddie’s voice cracks a touch as your hips press harder into him, “--put two and two together?”

“And you came here because…? Expound, already!” Your furious, air-starved hiss is a stark contrast to the way your lips keep chasing his.

“I wanted to c– I needed to come–” he swallows your stupid blooming smirk with another kiss, “Shut up. I wanted to make sure you were okay. And I couldn’t sleep. Could you sleep? I couldn’t sleep, just kept thinkin’... Kept… hnm, thinkin’ about you… About you like this… ‘n last night…”

As he babbles, your heart jackrabbits. Christ, you want him so bad. You’d listen to him like this for hours–talking like this alone, open and wanting, is enough to get you off. Eddie’s easing your skirt up your ass, rucking that fabric up slow like he did last night–but you want more than last night, if that’s possible, you want all of him, and for longer and for good–

You want him so badly that you forget where you are. Eyes snap open to catch direct iris-on-iris contact with Nancy’s Tom Cruise poster, hung strategically in view from her bed.

Nancy’s bed. Nancy’s room. Nancy’s fucking Tom Cruise poster.

“Shit,” you say in a strangle, right against his cheek. “Shit, what are we doing?” You rear right back, getting a good look at Eddie’s ruffled demeanor, his blush-high complexion. That intoxicated look he’s wearing just from feeling you up.

Someone looking at you the way Eddie is right now feels completely, totally brand new. Ardent and urgent, untouched by influence.

You’re almost positive that your gulp is audible.

With a couple of rapid blinks, Eddie seems to come back down to earth.

“No. No, you’re right, um– listen, at the risk of completely humiliating myself–”

“More than you did crawling in that window? This is crazed.”

Eddie pauses a beat, a genuine look of offense constricting his features. His hands have moved from your ass to your waist, and don’t shift.

“Hold on–Doevski, are you marking my dismount?”

You assholes just can’t help yourselves, can you? Mouth twitching at the corners, you harden up your gaze.

“I’m just saying, if you weren’t wearing ten tonnes of regalia, you might be able to make a more subtle entrance–”

“--who died and made you a hellenodikas?”

“Oh! Pulling out the Ancient Greek mythology on me now, huh?”

“I would never… pull out on you,” Eddie says and manages to hold his stone faced expression for a grand total of half a second before both your faces split in two. See, you hate him for this; that he can keep perfectly in time with you, and has since the jump.

You’re the first to move. You edge yourself off Eddie’s lap, his hands mournfully side along your legs as you move.

“C’mon. Montague moment’s over. Kick rocks.”

He gives you one good, solid nod and mockingly straightens himself out before attempting to worm his way back out the window. Crouching half in-half out, he pauses. Some remnant of a smile he smiled at you about a million years ago flickers across his face.

“You know, Lace,” Eddie says, “you keep throwin’ me out of windows like this, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you don’t like me.”

The door of the record store. The hot blast of stoned realization. Your fingers around his wrist.

Knees working faster than your brain, you bend to Eddie and meet his mouth again. The kiss is soft and gentle, devolving into several little pecks around his smiling cheeks, his eyes, his forehead. To tide you over. To be continued.

“Eh, I don’t like you,” you mumble, tips of your noses brushing. “That much.”

“Yeah? Well, you got a funny way of showing it.”

You watch Eddie’s dismount (an easy six) and nervous jog all the way ‘til he’s disappeared through the shrubbery of the Wheeler’s. Soon as he’s out of sight, you’re almost positive that you catch a flash of burgundy paintwork zipping past the driveway, but it’s too fast to tell. Weird.

Nancy near slices your fingers clean off as she noiselessly returns to the room, slamming the window shut. For as enraged as she’s trying to look, this girl with her half-painted nails also bears the familiar expression of someone baying for gossip.

“Spill everything. Right now.”

—

Eddie is a living, breathing, stink bomb of a cliche. He’s walking on air, he’s signed a lease on cloud nine, he’s all Gene Kelly’d out and still tap dancing down the locker lined steel trap of Hawkins High. Push back his curling bangs and he’s sure that PROPERTY OF LACY DOEVSKI is etched on his forehead, by the delicate hand that wields your fountain pen.

Dude’s a goner. Lights out, KO’d, hit the bricks gone. And he only has himself to blame.

If it were anyone else, he’s pretty sure it’d be different. Easier to stamp out the flame of hotheaded lust beneath his sneakers like a bag of dogshit on fire if it was some other right-side-of-town type girl. If it was just about being his diametric opposite. But it’s not. It’s you, sharp and silly and sexy, a total turn on even when you’re doing your best O’Donnell impression to sic him into studying. The you that he’s been slyly slipping into the NPCs of Hellfire, in ways that make Ronnie’s eyes roll (but she still tries to flirt with them, and that weirdly makes him a little… jealous? That dwarf is slick when she wants to be). The you that sometimes make a cameo appearance at his lunch table when you’re not holed up in the newspaper room, sat with poise and pith that the rest of the gaggle of nerds just don’t know what to do with.

Eddie can’t count the amount of times he’s wanted to crawl across that table and kiss you. And he’s been close to doing it. Couple times. Remnants of sloppy joes on his hands and knees.

But now he can kiss you, at least in private anyway, because there’s still a roadblock or two you have to navigate. And so what! What’s a little challenge when you’re this blissfully, head fuckerly, heartburningly in l—

“Watch where you’re going, asshole.”

This particular dagger comes straight out of the maw of Hawkins High’s crown jackass, Steve Harrington, whose shoulder Eddie’s just accidentally checked. Now, Eddie’s never cared much for Harrington, but never thought much about him either—the feeling, outside of scoring a baggie or two, is apparently mutual. But the glower Steve is sporting says anything but nonchalance.

“Jeez, Harrington,” the grin Eddie’s sporting makes a full meal out of a plate of shit, “If you like me so much, you can just say so. No need for the whole pullin’ pigtails routine.”

Steve stares at him for a good, hard second or two— so rigidly, in fact, that it nearly makes Eddie’s face falter. Who pissed in this guy’s Cheerios? Because, even if he double counts on his fingers, Eddie’s sure it wasn’t him.

“I,” Steve starts, pretty dumbly, “I’m havin’ a party on Friday. You should come.”

Eddie knows an order when he hears one, but it’s usually couched in something like, You got any good stuff, man? Y’know, phrased in the strained way popular kids do when they pretend not to hate his guts for half a second.

He knocks a mocking two fingered salute off his forehead and Steve’s grimace deepens. “Be there with bells on, sire.”

Up the hallway, one of the classroom doors creaks open.

“I don’t have all afternoon, Mr Munson.”

Steve looks past him to the imposing, near-six foot figure of Ms O’Donnell, impatiently tapping her shoes against the linoleum. Eddie’s smirk flattens into a tight line.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m in high demand! As you can see.”

Steve doesn’t dignify that with a response and takes off toward the exit.

“Quit gazing after the quarterback and get in here,” O’Donnell demands. And who is Eddie to deny her, Amazonian Baba Yaga that she is?

“Ms O’Deeeee, you call yourself a Hawkins Tiger?” he says, turning on heel, “You oughta know that Harrington is one of our finest ball players. Loves to play with balls, that one.”

“You can attest to that first hand, can you?” O’Donnell snarks, settling down behind her desk and gesturing Eddie to get comfortable at the top of the class.

Oh, Iris. She’s right on his level, when she’s not tearing him a new asshole, scholastically speaking.

Her name may not be Iris either, but tomato potato. Eddie slumps down into the desk like a graceless, clinking cat.

“I know you didn’t bring me here to talk about my extracurriculars. That would be a breach of propriety on your part.”

“Sure as hell I did not.” O’Donnell removes her eyeglasses and pinches the bridge of her nose, as she often does not even thirty seconds into an interaction with Eddie. “I’m missing my granddaughter’s recital for this, I want you to know that.”

He’s pulled out the there’s no way you’re old enough to be a grandmother line half a dozen too many times for it to fly again. Not that it ever did— look at this woman, with her tented fingers! She has a clear sight line right through his bullshit.

“I appreciate that you value my education more than some pipsqueak with a cello.”

“The problem is that you don’t,” O’Donnell sighs. There’s a note of defeat in her voice. “Eddie, we need to talk.”

In all the years O’Donnell has been on his case (four consecutive), she’s never addressed him by his first name. Eddie shifts in his seat a little, good mood not quite punctured yet. But askew, slightly.

“They finally found out about our clandestine little tryst, huh? Well, you can tell Higgins and the school board that I’m—“

“Shut up.”

He does. Right up.

“You understand why I push you so hard, don’t you?” O’Donnell asks him, and instead of some smartass response, Eddie clams. Ask him honestly and he’d say she’s a past-prime faculty lifer in desperate need of a power trip. That’s the narrative he’d always gone with anyway, the reason she’d always single him out and make an example of him and insist on the repeat exams he’d rarely end up passing anyways. Like, just flunk him, okay? Get the humiliation over with.

“It’s because I know your situation,” she tells him, “And I know you’re better than it. By a goddamn country mile.”

That knocks him. He blinks. Huh?

“You’re bright, you know. If you only allowed yourself to be,” O’Donnell nods, leafing through a manila folder in front of her, “If you could only find some way to focus, you’d be a halfway to decent student. Might even make it to college.”

“Don’t be too generous,” Eddie scoffs, arms folding over his chest. He can feel the defense rising.

O’Donnell stares at him over the rim of her glasses. “Oh, I’m not. Because the reality is, you’re too far gone. I’ve done all I can to try and drag you out of the sandpit of shit you’ve managed to fall into, but our time is coming to a swift and brutal end.”

A beat.

“Christ, who died and made you my guidance counselor—“

“You’re not graduating, Eddie.”

A cold sear runs down Eddie’s spine. “Um.”

Alright. Alright, look. It’s not like he hadn’t expected this, in some way or another, but again, if he is really honest… Eddie had expected some eleventh hour miracle that ended up with him with that diploma in his hand. Walking the stage in that godawful green gown, scooting down the line to take his place beside Ronnie and… and you.

First Munson to ever do it, at least in the proud township Hawkins. Something solid to his name, finally. A GED that wasn’t necessarily a ticket to college, but proof that he could break the family curse of not following through. He didn’t need to be valedictorian or anything, he just needed…

“But—but,” begins the scramble, “I’ve been doing… better, right? Like, I’ve gotten my grades up… not massively but a little!”

And he had. Fact is, these last handful of months, he hadnt just been dicking around with you and Ronnie after school— you’d actually gone out of your way to slice off some of those legendary brain smarts and slide them his way, bumping him up a letter grade in at least three subjects.

You’d said something similar to O’Donnell.

You’ve got something, y’know, beyond all the hair and regalia. This system is rigged to fail anyone who surrenders to being, like, a bad test taker— so you just have to game the system and make it work for Eddie Munson. Right?

Then you’d poked him in the cheek with your number two pencil and he’d forgotten everything he’d ever learned, brain lingering on that little touch for days.

That was before. Before your bedroom. Before Wheeler’s bedroom. Shit, before Granny Ecker’s closet.

“Now, Eddie. Jesus. You’d need a miracle to get you anywhere close where you need to be to get out of here. Look, I am telling you this because I—“

“Why? Why do you even care? You’re the one that’s been failing me half the time.”

“Yes, because you’ve been failing, smartass! Think I’ve got a choice in the matter?” O’Donnell and her high Midwestern fury shuts him up again. “I’m telling you this because… well, it’s time to weigh up your options.”

“Which are none.”

“Which could be none. The question on almost the entire faculty’s mind is, why haven’t you dropped out by now? And I’ve got a pretty good stab, I think.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

“Because, contrary to popular belief, you’re not your father.”

Eddie has to look away. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I knew Al Munson. My first year here, I taught him. And I was green then, sure, in the goddamn dark ages but even then I knew he was just looking for any easy way out.”

“And I’m not, huh?”

“No. Because you would’ve dropped out by now.” O’Donnell closes the folder like she’s seen enough. “Eddie, you have something to prove. And it’s worth proving.”

Far be it from Eddie to believe that any teacher in this school actually gives a shit about him, but the glance he steals to O’Donnell makes a damn strong argument otherwise.

“So w… what do I do?”

“God knows half the staff doesn’t want you around for another year. Sorry, but it’s true,” O’Donnell rolls her eyes and Eddie feels the sting of his last name, the skid mark of his father’s legacy following him wherever he goes, “I’ll work on it. Starting with Higgins, which should earn me canonization of some kind.”

“Castle in the sky and all that shit.”

Eddie doesn’t exactly nod; defiance is as strong as his white blood cells. He kind of wants O’Donnell to prove that she’s serious about helping him. About caring at all.

She goes on, tone strict and pushing.

“But you– keep your nose to the grindstone. Just because you’re not gonna pull through this year completely doesn’t mean that the improvement in the last couple of months meant nothing. I have noticed, by the way. And, uh, keep up the peer tutoring.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Peer tutoring,” there’s amusement dancing in O’Donnell’s words that makes them a little uneven, “Lacy Doevski’s been so kind as to take you under her wing, hasn’t she?”

A shock of heat takes seat on his cheeks. Right. He’d forgotten about that scam you ran like a ride on lawnmower through Kaminsky’s class.

“Y—yeah, somethin’ like that.”

“Well, keep that something going. It’s good. For the both of you,” O’Donnell clips with a knowing look. “I knew her father too.”

She dismisses him with a wave and Eddie, feeling like she’d just made him tie up a pair of leaden boots, follows the tug of his deflated heart like a compass. A tread through the eerily empty after-hours halls brings back a memory here and there. Getting caught smoking under the stairwell on the first day of freshman year; a girl named Phoebe lending him a pencil in Biology, which he ended up using to pretend-stab Tommy Hagan who made fun of her stammer (Tommy cried like a bitch, as if Eddie would ever actually do that); fighting against his better judgment and jimmying the lock of a classroom open so he could help Gareth make a new character sheet for Hellfire and getting detention when they were found out, while the freshman hid under the desk so he wouldn’t be caught too. Plenty of little battles lost. But this is the big one–the one that tells him he’s doomed to repeat this adolescent torture for at least another year.

However, as soon as he shoulders the swinging door open and sees you, bathed in a pool of lamplight with reams of typewriter paper surrounding you, and you pull your fountain pen from your mouth with a tired smile, stitched together just for him…

KO. The big gold belt. Eddie Munson, heavyweight champion of the world.

“Hey, Hildy,” he says, sliding down the short handrail into the typing pool, just because he knows it’ll make you roll your eyes and laugh. And it totally does, a croaky little giggle rasping out of your lips. “What’s the scoop?”

“Don’t you dare come any closer.” Your voice, your outstretched hand, makes Eddie freeze in a rigged marionette’s pose. It’s like your words have actual alchemic pull, how powerless he is to obey you and shit. “Let me just…”

“Seriously?” Eddie lets his arms drop, playing with a ball of elastic bands from the desk he sits on as you painstakingly reorganize your papers. “Y’know, I really should have an early preview of this, given I’m the star of the goddamn article and all. What if I object? What if you paint me in, like, an unflattering light? I could sue. Character defamation.”

“You’re taking care of that defamation all on your own, darling,” you yawn, the punch of your words not quite hitting like they usually would as you stagger across the newsroom to him. You’re exhausted–Eddie can see it. The deep shadows under your pretty eyes, new ink stains appearing on your fingers every day. You’re jerky and shaky, overcaffeinated to the point that the drug ain’t even working anymore. You’re working yourself to the bone. It’s been like this for ages; every spare moment that Eddie doesn’t see you, you’re playing catch up for college applications. “But no. Not ‘til it’s cooked and printed. My portfolio needs this article for a lead-in and it has to be bulletproof. Watertight. Unassailable. Other words for–”

“--perfect?” Eddie steps in, tossing the elastics over his shoulder and tugging you closer so that you’re just about sitting in his lap. “In that case, you chose a real winner of a subject.”

“Eddie.”

“No, seriously! Trailer park nobody with a fantasy game club. Wah-wah. I don’t envy the amount of fluffing you probably have to do to make it remotely appealing to… whoever’s in charge of reading that shit.”

“Admissions board,” you supply. You’re close enough that Eddie can taste your perfume and honestly, he’s doing a great job of not just licking it clean off your neck. “And I know this is one of your self-pity rally cries, and I won’t entertain it. Besides, it’s not just about you. It’s about Hellfire. The whole… well, I’m not saying any more. You’re just gonna have to read it and find out.”

“But I want my ego massaged,” Eddie pitifully whines, right out his nose. He clutches onto you harder, the pressure of your body against his alleviating the pressure of his total failure. His breath snags as you, so tired that you’re nearly trembling, kiss him softly.

“Mm, let’s compromise. I can massage something else,” you hum against his chasing lips, but something saintly touches him before you get the chance to move your inky hand. He uh-uhs you.

“Much as I appreciate the offer and will immediately curse myself for turning you down the second I get back to the trailer… you’re worn out, Lace. Seriously.” Eddie flicks a lock of your hair out of your face. Were you always like this, even when you were queen bitch? Did anyone ever think to check in on you before? “You been sleepin’? At all?”

“I have a countdown to my future and a convict father taking up residence on my couch. Of course I’m not sleeping. I’m optimizing,” you snit in the sleepiest voice he’s ever heard, your head is lolling against his shoulder. The pout you’re wearing makes Eddie want to bundle you right back to Forest Hills, tuck you up in his grody sheets and not let the rest of the world in ‘til you’ve got your strength back. Just you, him, some records. He’d read to you from The Silmarillion, because that was a surefire way to send you unconscious in seconds.

“I just need to get this article done and then I’m… I’m good. It’s out of my hands,” you croak.

“Then it’s… NYU’s problem, right?” says Eddie.

“Columbia,” you murmur, “with Emerson as a safety.”

“Lofty safety.”

“I’m a lofty girl. But you know what? I’m gonna get in.”

A pang in the key of dread hits Eddie in the throat. “I believe that.”

“But you know why?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Because of a silly little story I wrote about you.” You curl Eddie’s hair around your finger and he wonders if you can feel the physical sensation of him melting. Dripping all over you like a pathetic soft serve. “It’s so beyond comprehension but… You’re gonna make my dreams come true, Eddie Munson. I can feel it.”

About time I returned the favor, huh? is what he wants to say, but it’s not the time and it’s not the place and he thinks you might be drifting off in his arms. So he just breathes you in, and takes the win.

—

One thing Ray Doevski was always known to do was move. Not so much in a without exercise, the body devours itself kind of fashion, but in a without constantly one-upping oneself, the self devours itself kind of fashion. With Ray, moving was always some new business venture, some new property acquisition. Some other new reason for a cocktail party, so your mom would have an excuse to pretty herself up and you’d make your on-cue cameo, sweeping through the room and waving at all the important people your father had charmed and collected like stamps. And like stamps, the people he tended to collect all got more valuable with age. Ray liked old money, even if your family was on the newer end of the see-saw.

You saw all that for what it was now. Running the big scamola, charming these people out of pocket with that ugly Hawkins High class ring on his finger. Gold, garish, glaring, a glimmering green stone set right in the center. You hated that thing.

So, to see someone so diligently dedicated to movement and momentum sit docile on the sofa is pretty fucking disturbing. With that ankle monitor permanently welded to his leg, Ray can’t do so much as stand outside for a smoke without the heat coming down on him. Such are the conditions of his parole. It’s a humiliating fate, watching someone so previously well-kempt rot before you.

And more disturbing still, your father seems… not unhappy about his situation. As far as a man on house arrest goes, he’s not angry. He’s not irritable, he doesn’t even seem that frustrated. It’s strange. He’d even asked you to borrow a couple of your books to keep him occupied. That threw you. He’d never taken an interest in your voracious love for literature before… but boredom does absolute downright Invasion of the Body Snatchers type shit to a man.

He smiles at you from the corner of the sofa as you come in from an evening shift at the bookstore, your worn copy of Answered Prayers by Truman Capote in hand. It sends a cold dart through your tummy.

“You!” comes a snarl and your elbow is being snatched before you can even regain your bearings.

“What the f–”

Your mother slams her bedroom door so hard it seems to shake the trailer. It occurs to you that you haven’t stood inside her bedroom in weeks–months, maybe–or even seen inside of it save for the odd glance. Even then, it was always the sad staging of dresses and hose strewn across the bed, glasses with scarlet staining sitting on the nightstand and the smell of cigarette smoke and perfume growing old and flat and stale. But she’d straightened the place up– now the bedsheets sat tight around the corners of the mattress, and Gloriana’s jewelry was tidied away somewhere. No used wine glasses to behold. Like housekeeping had breezed through.

She told you she worked as a maid once, ‘For about a minute. Before your father rescued me.’

“What’s your problem?” you snipe, rubbing your pinched elbow through your sweater sleeve.

Your mother exhales a furious stream of smoke through her grit teeth, Dunhill poised, lit and ready. “You have to do something with him!”

“Me?!” you hiss back. Alarm sets off a roil in your stomach. You’d made incredibly delicate work of avoiding your father since he landed on the other side of the trailer’s formica table, notching it all down to I’m eighteen, I’m about to graduate, I’ve got work to do! All of which is definitely true, but you’d padded it out a little.

Padded it out with the time you spent with your lips on Eddie Munson’s lips, sure, but…

“Yes, you!” Gloriana spits, “Don’t think I’ve noticed how you’ve been skirting around him since he came back. Shouldn’t you be over the moon with yourself?”

“I am. I am over the moon.” Greatest lie you’d ever told. “He’s back! Hurray! We’re all happy families again. Do we get the house back? Do I get my car?”

Your mother’s lip lifts into a little smirk. “Oh, Lacy. Has someone gone and turned your head about Daddy? Knocked him off his pedestal?”

See, your mother’s always had this thing– this seething jealousy about the way you looked up to your father. Not necessarily because you never looked up to her the same way (you’d written plenty in your journal about the vapidity of being a ‘society wife’, as she definitely was– a kind of cornfed Midwestern Slim Keith, an ex-pageant girl from the unremarkable middle point of Hawkins who benefitted entirely from her once-poor husband’s grafting), but because you were there at all. Yearning for his approval and robbing his attention.

Not like you ever got much of either.

“You want I should call the cops and tell them he’s been running phone scams from the trailer?”

Your mom lets out a little huff that could be mistaken for a laugh. “He just sits there, all day long. And when he’s not sitting, he’s curtain twitching.”

Just like you’d thought. Rear Window. Danger zone.

“This place could use a neighborhood watch,” comes the pith through your nerves, “Has he seen anything good, at least?”

Gloriana rolls her eyes at you, hooded with the pretense of as if I’d tell you. “That’s the other thing. He doesn’t talk. But he does ask questions.”

“Like?” you ask, after a rough swallow that alerts you to how dry your throat has suddenly gotten.

Finely penciled eyebrows quirk. It reminds you of how much your mother can resemble Ava Gardner, when she puts some chutzpah into it. “Better get out there if you want to keep him from his suspicions, is all I’m saying.”

As if she knows more than she’s letting slip.

“Shouldn’t you be over the moon? Aren’t you happy that he’s out?” You turn the mirror on her. Gloriana’s eyelids flicker, as if she’s exhausted by the mere question.

“Of course I am. Don’t be ridiculous,” she sighs. “But some things… were easier. Before. You and I didn’t need to pretend–”

That we liked each other.

“Yeah.” You snip right into her sentence because although you’re well aware of the scope of your mother’s feelings toward you, it still stings to hear it said out. She’s still your mom, after all. Or, she should be.

Standing in this room is making you nauseous.

“I’ll keep him occupied for a while.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

Moments later, you’re tossing a pack of cards on the little formica breakfast table. It used to be a universal language in your household, when your father was still feigning interest in you. He taught you to play cards, and taught you how to cheat at them. You only retained one of those things. Little miracles.

“Want to deal?”

Ray slowly closes the cover on Answered Prayers and rises to the table.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” he says, a smile playing around his mouth. You resist the pull to roll your eyes, as if he’s bestowing such an honor on you—and wonder when exactly you did stop worshiping him.

Sometime between the last time you’d seen the back of his hand and the guilty verdict, you’re guessing.

You lay out his hand, and yours. He archly remarks, “Gin?”

“I’ve gotten better.”

“You’ve gotten a lot of things, haven’t you?” Ray says, focusing on his cards. “Lot of things have changed.”

“What does that mean?”

“Look, I admit, I came on a little… strong that first night I came home.” Strong was one word for it; you’d call it more of a three-hour cross examination delivered while you were trapped inside an iron maiden. You’d shed as little light on the whole Munson situation as you could. He gave me a ride once or twice. We go to school together, what do you expect? “But can you blame me? With you and your mother living in… this place? I had to know. To be sure that you were safe.”

You want to think, he doesn’t give a shit about safety. He gives a shit about treason. About me fraternizing with his enemy’s offspring, or whatever. But the way he says it gives you pause.

“It’s not so bad,” you shrug, swapping out a card. “It’s cozy.”

We’re not cozy people.

Ray takes a dig into the stock pile himself, regarding you with a curious look. “See what I mean? You seem… more willing to accept your circumstances. It’s interesting.”

The line between Ray Doevski praising and insulting you is like fishing line; depends on what he’s baiting you with. Accepting one’s circumstances was usually Doevskian for accepting failure.

“What, did you expect me to be kicking up tantrums about not having a clawfoot bathtub anymore? Because I’m not,” you smirk, “I’ve even adjusted to the notion of not always having hot water.”

Your mind flashes back to the small, square shower in the Munson trailer and you make a mental note to ask Eddie how his water heated to boiling within seconds.

“That, I could personally never get used to.”

“Plumbing wasn’t so great in IDOC, I take it?”

“No. But that didn’t register so high on my scale of problems inside.”

“Was it scary?”

“Yes.”

“And were you… in danger?”

A long beat settles between you. Ray shifts in the vinyl-backed seat, a tiny squeak the only sound between him and his apparent discomfort. Chills, again. You get a chill.

“... yes,” he says, and meets your eyes. They’ve sunk a fraction more than the last time you’d looked into them. Some of the gray shocks in his hair have turned white. Scary, to witness real evidence of your parents growing old. And frightened. “Lacy, I’d done badly by a lot of people. Some of them were even inside with me, and they wanted retribution, and that was fair. I could live with that,” depending on what end of a shiv he was on, you guessed, “But I also did badly by you. Very badly.”

Ah, acknowledgement that their father has lied about their criminal enterprises for the better part of her life–just what every little girl wants. It wasn’t as if you had still staunchly believed the not guilty campaign that your parents had spearheaded throughout Ray’s trial, even in the face of stony evidence. He was guilty; you had to figure out if you cared about the crimes, or the fact that he’d led you to believe he was so much better than he was.

But this is the first time he’s really copped to it.

You’re not quite sure what his admission is supposed to do, so you stare at your spades.

“It makes sense that you don’t trust me anymore,” Ray goes on, “But I love you, and I always will. All I’ve ever wanted is to provide the best for you, the very best I could. Better than that, even– because that’s what you deserve. The whole world, Lacy.”

Stomach churning, you wish he’d stop calling you that. Your nickname sounds wrong in his mouth. A world apart from the girl he thinks you are.

“I just feel like you could’ve done that without skimming money off children’s charities,” you hear yourself saying before you register that your mouth is drawling off the words, “And laundering money through those rentals. And… what was it, drug trafficking? I lost count.”

Knowingly, you brace for explosion. Ray flipping the table, scattering his hand and laying an open palm across your face, the dull thunk of his Hawkins High class ring making contact with your cheekbone. That’d be something. Something solid. Something you could point to, that said I know who he is, I tried to stand up to him, I’m not him, please don’t think that I am.

But he doesn’t, so the line of your shoulders tense for no reason. He digs a cigarette out of the soft pack laying on the table and flicks it towards you with a fingertip. His right hand, ring finger bare. He’s not wearing it.

He is wearing a sad grin of humility, shrugging like, well, kid, you got me there. Dead to rights.

He looks like somebody else.

“So, how’s your life been, Lacy Doevski?” A charm dances around his tone, the way a flame dances around the edge of a photograph that doesn’t want to burn.

And despite your best fucking instincts, despite the way that nickname falls out of his mouth like upchuck, despite the fact that you should hate him, there’s a change in the lighting around him that you just cannot help but want to engage with.

“You really wanna know?”

“I really wanna know. Tell me everything. The road to Columbia, how’s that going? The newspaper. This job at the bookstore in town. Your friend, uh, Nancy, right? She seems like a nice kid. I know Ted Wheeler, a little bit. Went to school with him and her mom, Karen. And everybody knew Karen, but, uh, don’t mention that to Nancy!” He steals another card from the stock pile, but doesn’t discard one from his hand. You decide not to mention it. “I want to know everything, Lacy. I’ve been way too distracted with things that don’t matter as much as you. Call this… makin’ up for lost time.”

Your shoulders shrug into themselves, like when you were a little kid and he’d let you sit on the big leather chair in his office after you’d sat outside the door for a solid hour, begging to come in. The corners of your lips pick up.

“Just about to finish my applications. I’m submitting this writing portfolio–”

“--I thought we talked about business school?”

You seize. You had. An effort in setting you up for a future of undebatable prestige started to sound more like sending you off to the meet market, the more your father talked about it. Business school is where you’ll meet young men of excellent character, Lorelei. Excellent family stock. It won’t hurt if they see that you’re smart, too.

… why the everloving fu-huuuck would you go to business school when you spend every spare second of the day giving yourself carpal tunnel and preaching about that Woolfe chick, Lace? Nope, you need someplace with climbing ivy and people whose dissenting opinions on cliterature you can cat fight with. Eddie Munson, leaning over the counter at the Bookstore and shedding light on your secret desire to bury yourself in novels and pretention with his ever-burning flare of perception.

Cliterature? you’d asked, brow an arch.

Classic literature. As written by the fairer sex. Bronte and broads.

Well, Jesus Christ. Who died and let you lead the third wave of feminism, Munson?

“Um…” You hadn’t prepared a good defense for this. You felt a stab of nausea.

“It’s okay!” your dad chuckles, tapping you on the wrist in reassurance, “You changed your mind. That’s fine. But it’s still Columbia, right?”

“God, of course. Couldn’t imagine anywhere else.”

“Good.” The smile reaches his eyes. “Sorry, your portfolio.”

“Right, uh– I’m just about polishing it off and I’ve got a great lead in, my last article for the Streak…” you trail off. A warning signal travels down your brain stem. Don’t tell him. Don’t tell him about Hellfire. You’ve got to keep him as far away as–

“About what?” Ray asks brightly. Picks up a card. Discards another. You see a twitch in his mouth.

“An after school club,” you blurt. “My, um. My friend Ronnie’s in it. We were… lab partners. Junior year. Dissected frogs together.”

“Yeah, that really bonds people for life, huh?” Ray says. Not a trace of irony. “Well, I look forward to reading it. If you want me to. I know writers can be very precious about their work.”

And their subjects.

“Uh, well. We’ll see. I might not want to jinx it after I send off my applications.”

“Superstitious,” he smiles, “Just like your old man.”

“And I have a boyfriend.” The blurting just doesn’t let up from you, eh? Like you have to cover all your bases while Ray is swept up in this gregarious mood. “And he goes to… Ithaca. I think.”

Your father makes a face that stands up to some interpretation of, la-di-da, lookit you! and Christ, you’re nearly sure he’s bought it. College guy… he’d kind of fallen by the wayside since you took that trip to Saturday morning detention. He’d better fucking pick up if you call now, if he hadn’t gone back to Vermont or wherever.

“Well, look, I’m glad you’ve kept that momentum even given… everything. And I’m glad you seem to be surrounding yourself with good, level-headed people.” People he would have called nobodies eight months ago. People you would have called nobodies eight months ago. “Like Nancy. And this Ronnie. And that you’ve stayed out of trouble, as much as you can.”

You swear you see his eyes flick to the window beside you. In the direction of the trailer across the way, where a warm yellow light glows from the bedroom. There’s a shake in your breath, but Ray isn’t quite done.

“I’m incredibly proud of the woman you’re becoming, Lacy. And look at that–” His hand slaps down on the table, revealing his melds. “--gin! I thought you said you got better at this, kid!”

“You took me by surprise, Daddy. What can I say.”

—

“Quit that. That’s explosive cargo you’re flickin’.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Tap, tap, tap. One of the hinges of this rusty, crusty, dusty old domed metal lunchbox is loose, and you can’t stop toying with it. “This is what you’ve been carrying your motherlode around in?”

“What about your mother’s load?” Eddie says, scraping the lunchbox a couple of inches away from you on the bench. Still, you reach for it, and he smacks your hand away. “Respect the receptacle, please. It’s a thing of legend.”

“Seems like a dangerously obvious hiding place for a bunch of illegal substances,” you say, brow creased. Had Eddie put any thought into his operation thus far? Because this seems extremely haphazard. He’s always swinging that goddamn thing around school, and one look inside the false bottom could put him away for a long time, if the Reagan administration had anything to do with it.

“Exactly! Making it the last place anyone would think to look!” Eddie beams, flicking the lid open. “Class A drugs? Why, no, officer, these are my party pretzels. From home.” A deeply tragic baggie of crushed pretzel pieces lands between the two of you. Your frown deepens a degree or two. Eddie shrugs, shaking his curls out a little and starts picking through the detritus in the lunch box. Other than a couple of dime bags, a box of Camels, a lighter and some loose Twizzlers, his load’s light.

“How exactly does one get into the business of selling hydroponics et cetera out of a lunchbox, Eddie?”

“Why, you lookin’ to diversify your criminal skillset?” That sly poke. You roll your eyes, jiggling your mary jane’d foot and pick up a bag of Mary Jane herself.

“I’m just curious about the trajectory! The more I learn about you, the more it occurs to me that you’re possibly the uncoolest drug dealer in history. You know, stereotypically speaking.”

“The answer I think you’re looking for is that I’m a big, big boy,” Eddie rasps, taking an exaggerated chomp out of one of the liquorice ropes, “and I contain multitudes. Shit happens. Sometimes it leads to you selling pot. Et cetera.”

“What kind of shit?”

He considers you for a second, but you’re bright-eyed and curious about him. He jumps back from you when you’re like this sometimes, like he just touched a hot stove. You’d give him shit for it, but you did the same thing. The Twizzler waves in your face. “If I didn’t have such a brain-damage inducing crush on you, I’d think you were a narc.”

“Eddie.” Though your heart does jump like a needle on a scratched record when he says crush. Particularly when he says crush like that. But he could elaborate on that for you later.

“Fine, fine, fine– I’m not gonna get into the finer points of it now, but… basically, some shit went down with my dad that meant I had to move in with Wayne and working at the plant isn’t actually the cash cow that you’d think it is, and neither is me picking up barback shifts at the Hideout so… I hit up my dad’s friend Rick who said he’d help me out if I ever needed it and here we are. Lunchbox and all. Half ounces for halfwits at horrible parties.” Eddie toughens into this tense line as he speaks, like he’s halfway embarrassed about having to do this. “Means to an end, y’know?”

You nod, though you want to prod further so bad. “Do what they expect of you until you don’t have to anymore.”

Exactly, Eddie mouths with narrowed eyes, another bite into the Twizzler. “You know what tune I’m singin’.”

Better than the both of you realize, it seems.

“This whole,” you gesture around the circular clearing, the place everyone knows you come to meet Munson to score product, “place does kind of look like the kind of hotspot where one might catch Goody Proctor dancing with the Devil.”

It’s your first time out here–you’d elegantly skirted the responsibility of ever having to pick up for your group of friends but it’s… delightfully creepy. Whispers cragging through the tree branches. Eddie’s presence knocking you off guard at every turn–well, not you. Not anymore.

“Rumors are kind of starting to add up. Satanic worship, human sacrifice… girls panties going missing. That’s all I’m saying.”

A maddened grin peeling over his features, Eddie scooches closer to where you sit, perched on top of the rotting picnic table. “Why do you think I lured you out here, Lace?” His fingertips race up your calf and you spill a giggle, squirming away. “The Dark Lord requires another infernal bride!” He leaps up, ticklish touch attacking your sides ‘til you’re shrieking, not working quite as hard as you could to beat him away.

“Ed–Eddie, st-aaahap!”

“It’s all cool! It’s no big deal! Just take your clothes off and sign my yearbook! Then, hey presto, the big guy’ll give you whatever you want.”

Eddie’s hands slow to a still on your hips, your uncrossed legs caging his sides. His lids fall, mouth prepping a pout for yours, but you press your thumb into his lips.

“Whatever I want?” you whisper, eyes narrowing.

A smirk flickers across Eddie’s mouth, a puff of breath pressing his mouth into your thumb until the tip is wedged between the edge of his teeth. Your breathing stills for a second and you resist pushing it further into his mouth.

“Shit,” he murmurs, moving your hand across his cheek so he can kiss you full on the mouth. His tongue is needy and searching, making you curve into him just a touch. You can feel the prickle of his stubble coming up. Eddie with a five o’clock shadow… “I’d give you whatever you want, Lace. John Hancock in the Book of the Beast or no.”

The wettened peaks of his lips go straight for your jugular. You two have shared enough mouth-to-mouth episodes for him to know that feeling his tongue against your pulse is liable to make you do nutty things.

“Tell me what you want, dahling one,” Eddie’s mouth crawls up your jaw in an approximation of Bela Lugosi, up to your ear, where he knows you’re ticklish too. You feel him smile at your breathy laugh. “Anything you desire, anything beneath the blazing sun and under the heaving mud, anything under the banner of… the Hawkins township, because I don’t have a lot of gas money right now…”

“I want you,” you struggle through a sigh–his stupid mouthy beautiful mouth, “to get rid of that goddamn lunchbox. At least, for illegal purposes. Keep it for pretzels.”

Eddie honks out a nasally groan far too close to your ear and you jerk back. “No! You’re supposed to be all, ‘I absolutely indubitably want you, Eddie,’ and then we’re supposed to, ee-ee,” he thrusts his clothed hips into yours animatedly, “on this very table top. Until you realize it’s covered in woodlice.”

“Well, I can’t fuck you if you’re in prison. I’m telling you, that old tin thing falls apart in the hallway and you’re being tried as a full adult!” Wait, did he say woodlice?

“You worry too much. S’gonna make you warty. Plus,” he says, unlatching himself from you and tossing his effects back in the tin box, “this is a family heirloom. Al Munson made good on his last straight job at the plant for a grand total of six hours, and all he got was this lousy lunchbox.”

Speaking of Al…

“Y’know, I was thinking… If it wasn’t for your dad…” Your hands knit in your lap as you pretend to look around for woodlice.

“‘If it wasn’t for Al’ what?” Eddie’s tone is flat, “Grand theft auto would decrease tenfold from here to Bloomington? Less diner waitresses would have complexes about men who abuse the free refill system? Starcourt Mall wouldn’t have burned down?”

Your eyebrows knit. Okay, pause. “What has he got to do with Starcourt Mall?”

“I’m not a hundred percent, but I have a theory,” Eddie says, arms bound across his chest. “It involves horseshit bombs and the Russian mafia.”

“And you told me my Larry Kline theory was crazy!”

“Well, funny you mention because my idea actually runs kind of concurrent to that–”

“No, let’s put a pin in that for a second,” you cut him off, “It’s… my dad. I think he might actually be somewhat rehabilitated. Knocked down a peg, maybe? He actually displayed a hint of diffidence, Eddie. I think I … kind of have Al to thank for that.”

Sure, there was an air of initial disconcert to you and your dad’s little game of gin rummy, but the more you ruminated on it, the more it felt… threatless. Your mom had even joined you for a grim dinner of mac and cheese, where the three of you had nearly fondly reminisced on the pasta alla vodka from a restaurant they always went to on New Years Eve in Indianapolis. Maybe that’s what it took; a stint in prison to crack his ego like the Liberty Bell, and now Ray Doevski had to bear the humility like everyone else. Maybe he’d make good on his promise, making up for lost time.

But the disbelief, and, in fact, concern that Eddie is eyeballing your way says something different.

“Don’t thank Al for anything.”

“I’m just saying. Dad and I actually talked last night, for the first time in… ever, really, and it didn’t feel like he was sizing me up. It was.. He was… nice.”

“Lacy.” Eddie’s shoulder’s sag. He hops up on the table next to you, bringing you knee to knee. The tear in his jeans rubs against the webbed nylon of your tights. When he looks at you, it’s with rounded eyes that could very well have been checking you for brain damage. “I don’t mean to blow out your candle or anything, but coming from someone as well versed in the tales of a crooked father who never really changes as I… I don’t buy this Ray of sunshine bit.”

Your hackles start to raise. Hey. Just because Al Munson was a famed and patterned piece of shit didn’t necessarily mean–

Eddie clocks you immediately, your crunched brow and pursed mouth. His hands go up, requesting pause. “Look. This is your first time at the convict parent rodeo, so I know how it is. Whirlwind. They always roar in in some Cadillac full of promises, right, swearing to make everything they fucked up right by you. But it never sticks, Lace. They’re hardwired to not follow through, okay? At least not on anything that doesn’t serve their own vain little agenda. With Al, it’s always some big dick scheme, something that’s gonna set us, and by us I mean him, up for life. No matter how good it feels to have them back, it– it always feels better when they’re gone.”

His searching eyes dart to his hands, as if he’d said a touch too much. On the one hand, a couple of painful pop rocks explode in your chest. You always feel this way whenever he mentions Al– Eddie’s let you in on glimpses here and there, revealing that he hasn’t quite shucked off the essence of being a hurt kid. It presents you with the super challenging desire to soothe the memory, but you dance around it at a distance. The dad stuff, it’s still sticky for the both of you. But now that Ray is back, and Al is back, you kind of have to talk about it. It figures pretty keenly into… whatever the fuck you two think you’re doing.

Then, on the other hand, a quick flash of resentment burns in you. Yeah, your dad is hardwired–why can’t mine be different?

“Better?” you ask.

“Maybe–not better,” Eddie rectifies, his rings knocking against his palm. “But easier. It’s always easier when he’s gone, even if I want him to be there. At least I know what to expect when he doesn’t call or write or whatever, which is nothing.”

“So I should do the same? Expect nothing?” You can’t hide the bite in your voice, and you can’t meet his eyes when he looks at you.

“Lacy,” he says, searching hard for you in there, “You know what kind of guy your dad is. All the pomp and circumstance in the world won’t change what you’ve already seen. What you’ve already been through. This nice guy shit is a tactic– you…”

A heavy-ringed hand pulls your face to his, forcing you to look him in his earnest, gleaming eyes.

“You deserve more than that.”

Confusion with a sadness chaser churns in you. The metallic chill of Eddie’s rings against your cheek. A cooling comfort. Not a harsh sting. Not an open palm. A cradle.

“I know you don’t believe me, for whatever reason, but you do deserve more than that.”

I still want you to be wrong, a voice hisses in the back of your head. Fucking Medusa rising.

“Yeah,” you nod in his hands, surrendering because it’s the right thing to say. “Yeah, of course I do. I’ll be careful. It’s fine.”

“And speaking of careful,” Eddie’s timbre hits a more suggestive spot, his hand falling from your jaw to your shoulder, “Harrington’s having a party on Friday, s’why I need fresh supplies.”

“Oh, really?” you mumble, mood not immediately perking up.

“Yes, really,” Eddie mocks, grip slipping to your waist. “I was thinking… y’know. Harrington’s house is big. Lotta rooms. Lotta beds…”

“Lot of intimacy at big parties,” you paraphrase Gatsby. “But the last time I was at Harrington’s… Is that such a good idea? Risking a repeat of teenage gladiator?”

“You were hardly gladiating, you were performing The Crab Monologues. Now, Carol, she wa–”

A scowl starts growing on your face. “Not helping your case.”

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry,” Eddie grins that bitten, private grin he deploys when he’s just about to lay one on you. “Will you show if I promise to protect you from wild redheaded assailants?”

“I’ll consider it. But that better include that little neighbor girl of yours, too,” you warn, suddenly reminded of the viscous stink-eye that Billy Hargrove’s stepsister had been throwing your way the last couple of times that you passed her in the trailer park. “Orphan Annie has it out for me for some reason.”

“You’re so cute when you’re paranoid.”

“You have a woodlouse in your bangs.”“Wuagh! Where! Kill it!”

author's notes: christ it is GOOD TO BE BACK!!! if this feels like a part one to something, that is because it very much is, my friends. this was on its way to becoming a 20k+ chapter, which would freak me out actually so i decided to have some boundaries for once and split it in two. get you warmed up for what's to come. it's drama. btw. anyway on with the show - ohhh, you guys i have been listening to so much early-mid 00s emo in order to write this story. i realized that that's my secret weapon, because it's just as melodramatic as these two fucking dumbshits are. points to anyone who knows what the title of the chapter is a reference to (bonus points if they can find it a second time in a past chapter of this story) - flannery o'connor is of course a standard doevski pick for an author, but also a nod to maya hawke playing her in the biopic, which looks exquisite btw - back at it with the extremely rudimentary dnd references! i thought fear and loathing in luskan was fun - eddie WOULD know a ton about ancient greek mythology, specifically the goings on at the olympics, but not because he has any real vested interest in it but moreso because when he researches for a campaign he goes absolutely hard, like me with my 26 tabs open googling 'nail polish shades popular 80s teen girl bonne bell' - kick rocks! montague moment's over! but real quick-- what's munson? it is not hand, nor foot nor arm nor face, nor any other part... belonging to a man :) - yet another hellfire & ice fancast moment, i must present my personal pick for o'donnell-- it's gotta be allison janney, baby. less in the 10 things i hate about you guidance counselor vein, rather in the stepmom from juno vein. - 'hey hildy, what's the scoop?' had to get a his girl friday reference in somewhere, didn't i - answered prayers by truman capote is not only the cuntiest book ever written (capote essentially sold the secrets of his wealthy socialite friends in order to write it) but is also the latest ryan murphy adaptation - we stan jordan baker from the great gatsby in this house alright! that's all for this one! hope you enjoyed it, i know it's heavy on set up but next chapter will see us right back at casa de harrington for another blowout party, so... brace yourselves. please comment and reblog to support the work, thank you hellcats i love you forever

#published by powder #hellfire & ice #in progress #e. munson by powder #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x oc #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic

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devilfic · 7 months

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❝nocturnal animal❞

plot: okay, maybe the caped crusader is a vampire. and maybe you just want to know what it would feel like for him to sink his teeth into you. it's not weird. pairing: vampire!battinson!bruce wayne x detective!gn!reader. cw: vampires (duh), vampire-typical erotic descriptions of blood drinking, vampire hypnotism/compulsion, teasing martinez (lovingly). words: 2.6k.

a/n: I had a rough month last month and writer's block was the icing on the cake, but I picked up a vampire encyclopedia at the library and found out batman has been turned into a vampire... several times. more times than I thought, actually. this is what came of it. happy halloween month!!

"How does it feel?"

Gordon cuts his eyes to you for a moment, still thumbing through rows of manila folders. You sort of do the same just to appear a little less eager. "How does what feel?"

"The... well, you know." You awkwardly gesture to his wrist where the sleeve had fallen back a hair.

Your lieutenant flicks back his coat sleeve as if he were checking the time, but the watch face is laid flush against the inside of his wrist. He tugs at it. Frowns. Shrugs. "Feels like nothin'."

"Oh, do not bullshit me."

Gordon looks at you again. Then he glances around the storage room, quieter and emptier than every other room in the precinct right now. It's just the two of you here. You'd made sure of that before you decided to ask.

He props his arm on the box of cold cases and gives you a hard, judging stare. "I'm not describing what it feels like to have a grown man sucking..." He glances around again just to be sure no one had slipped in all of a sudden, "...if you wanna know, go ask him to bite you."

You... hadn't considered that. "He'd be okay with that?"

"I don't know, probably. It's not like he has a preference."

"I thought he didn't like Martinez."

"Well, you've seen Martinez. He eats like a high schooler."

You press your thumb into your own wrist, clenching and unclenching your fist until the veins show. You're possessed with a shiver as the draft from the vent above cools the skin. "So I... what? I just go up and ask?"

"Yeah, sure. Worst he can say is no."

"Detective."

About a third of your coffee goes flying, splattering milky brown onto concrete. You're lucky it had gone cold on your way up here or else it would've singed the skin off your ankles, but you're still not happy.

"Christ- get down from there. I'm not talking to you like that."

The Bat is perched comfortably above the doorway, looking down on you from above, but makes no move to get down. He keeps himself crouched, "Where's Lieutenant Gordon?"

“Night off with Barb. He’s been overworking lately, you know how he is. I told him I’d take care of you.” You stare up into the darkness and feel your heartbeat pick up a bit. You force yourself to still it, keep it tamped down under the years of poker face your career had honed for you. “I’m serious. Come down and talk to me or I’m making Martinez do this.”

You usually negotiated with people on the other side of a table, and none of them could ever hear your heart going ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump… so this was fairly new to you.

He drops down in front of you, cape fluttering gracefully. The first time you met him, Gordon had warned you to keep your cool. I mean, six foot something unknown, dressed in all black armor with innumerable resources and connections, endlessly prowling the night sky, whose intentions were murky and who was only on your side until he decided he wasn’t? Everyone thought Gordon was crazy. You were the first to give him a chance.

You noticed the little things. You rarely saw him during the day, never could get him to come out of the shadows when you did, always skulking about and never seeming to slow down. Weekdays, weekends, holidays. At one point, you’d wondered if he was even human. You’d wondered it out loud, in front of Gordon, expecting him to rip off the cowl to reveal a labyrinth of wires and then-

And then you’d realized you’d been paying an awful lot of attention to the Batman, and absolutely not enough to Jim Gordon.

He doesn’t sway or make faces like other people, doesn’t give away his thoughts like you’re used to. Instead, you’ve noticed very minute ticks: prolonged staring (even worse than his normal staring), not bothering to take a breath, the stillness of him and around him. The cityscape in the background might as well be a wide, empty plain when you’re standing next to him. Eventually, he lies, “Martinez is fine.”

"Worst he can say is no," your ass.

You try not to be offended by that. “You don’t like Martinez.” You sound pretty offended, against your best efforts.

“That’s not true.”

“I- you know what I meant. You said it yourself. Gordon told me.”

“It's fine."

You squint, “Am I not good enough for you?” A rare look of surprise flickers in his eyes. "You just said you’d prefer the guy whose blood you don’t even like.”

“I said he’s fine.” You hear a little edge to his voice that gives you pause. You’ve heard it before, coiling around the margins of his words. A tell-tale sign, Gordon had said, that you were trekking into dangerous territory.

You press your lips into a firm line but stand your ground, “I already made my choice. If you really want Martinez, say so. Clearly. Use your words and mean it.”

The Bat stares, unreadable.

You know how this goes with Gordon. It’s nothing intimate. The wrist most of the time, other times the neck when it’s closest. Or when Gordon’s busy on his computer. It’s always quick. You don’t even see Gordon flinch.

But with you? You don’t know how it’ll go with you. You don’t know where to start, only that you’d been thinking about it all day after you’d finally called Gordon and promised “I can take care of him.”

Batman takes your wrist, brings it to his nose, and flinches away. You panic at the thought that it might really be he prefers Martinez to you until he plucks the coffee out of your hand and sets it down on the ledge. His eyes follow yours as his mouth falls to the inner wrist and you feel wet, cool breath against it. It tingles all the way up to your ears. Those eyes flicker away a millisecond later, inspecting your arm in its entirety.

His leather-gloved thumb caressing your skin should make you something other than what you’re currently feeling, that’s for sure.

“Thank you,” Batman starts, sounding reluctant. His eyes quickly flicker to your throat and then away again, “Do you have a preference? Anywhere I should avoid?”

"Avoid?"

"Anywhere someone might look. A friend... or partner, perhaps."

Your lips part, sucking in a breath, “No, uh- no. No one like that. Wrist is fine. O-Or neck. Whichever is… easier.”

He doesn't say anything more. His lips curl up. Two pointed fangs reveal themselves behind the parting of his mouth, fangs that weren’t there before when he spoke. You ruminate on that, a reminder that the man under the mask could be anyone if he could hide so easily like that.

You watch—transfixed, barely registering the pain—when those fangs pierce skin. Blood beads where his teeth push in slow, and the icy sting you're expecting is no more than a needle prick at best. But the strangeness of a mouth pressed there, suckling at the wound as blood dribbled out of it… you stretch your fingers and stiffen. It was all you could do not to scare yourself and rip that hand back, tearing a vein in the process.

His tongue unmistakably presses to the flat of your inner wrist and before you can question it, he’s got his eyes on you. All of it goes quiet after that.

You no longer feel the sting, nor his lips pillowing around his teeth, nor the grip of his hands holding your wrist to his mouth. All you see is blue. Endless, reeling pools of blue. Not red like they were in the movies, or yellow, or black all over. Blue. Human blue. Wondrously beautiful blue. Had you ever liked blue eyes this much before? It felt like this was your first time truly seeing them. They were just so… radiant. And here he was, swathed in night, with pale skin peeking out like a waning crescent. Had you ever seen skin so pale? It felt like this was the first time truly seeing it. It was just so...

Your train of thought wanes. Sweeping over you is a dizzy spell so abrupt that you think you gasp. Or whimper.

Feeling returns to you as soon as he breaks your gaze. All at once, your skin is flush, your breathing concernedly slow, your knees weak. It’s so shocking that you buckle at the slightest gust of wind.

Just as quickly, the Bat clings to your wrist and pulls you flush to his chest, holding your bleeding arm in between the both of you while he holds you in a half-dip (like a pause in a waltz), suspended over you. Your eyes catch on the darkness staining his bottom lip where his fangs are still poking out, and you watch as a drop of blood gathers, swells, and falls… right onto your cheek. It’s still warm.

You feel a subconscious warning thrum through you. Perhaps it was because you were so close now, that the blue looked more hypnotic than radiant and his skin looked more undead than celestial. You understand in one sweeping, chilling second, what you’ve just let sink its teeth into you. “What the fuck was that?”

“You were starting to panic,” he explains, low, using no effort at all to hold you, “I calmed you down.”

“How? It’s like… it’s like you hypnotized me. Did you hypnotize me? Do you do that to Gordon?”

You don’t mean for it all to come out like an accusation, but the feeling had been akin to walking on a cloud, only to wake up the minute your foot falls through. In the time that you’d been lost in his eyes, waxing poetic about his otherworldliness, he could’ve… well, he could’ve… he could’ve done anything.

The feeling was untethered. Wild. Alien.

When he’s sure you won’t hurt yourself, the Bat lets your hand fall back to your side, straightens you up but never pulls away. Your eyes keep glancing between his and the points right above his brow, unsure that he wouldn’t draw you right back into that place if you looked directly at him again. “Gordon doesn’t panic.” He simply answers.

You go to defend yourself but you had felt it; the mounting pressure of it, the strange pain toggling on the instinct to get away, get away, get away. Your heartbeat was so slow when you came back to, like he'd damn near put a stop to it. “I panicked?”

The Bat doesn’t laugh at you, even when the answer is so obvious. “It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's a common phobia.”

You're struck by his implication, “Are you seriously trying to say I’m scared of blood?”

“Maybe just your own.”

“I'm a detective. I see blood all the time. Maybe it's because you're a fucking vampire and my ooga booga brain is rightfully terrified.”

“You offered.”

Your ears burn, “As a favor to Gordon.”

“I can hear you lying.”

The sureness of his statement stops you quick. You feel yourself choke on nothing, sounding strangled as you respond, “Excuse me?”

“I could hear it,” your heartbeat thrums in your ears as the Bat continues to hold you, less waltz now and more hostage situation, “I heard it when you lied just now. I heard it earlier, on your way here. And I heard Gordon on the phone… not with Barbara.” He's blocking the wind sweeping over the ledge, making your flush feel hotter than before. “I don't prefer Martinez to you, but I know why you offered.”

You swallow, exposed. He'd make a damn good detective. "And?"

Your offended wrist is seized once more, and he studies the small holes there, as well as the teeny-tiny drops of blood still lightly flowing from the wound. It looks like it'll stop soon.

Achingly slow, Batman brings it to his mouth and licks away the last of you.

You have no choice but to watch, of sound mind and body, because he refuses to look you in the eye. You're forced to see him in his entirety. Forced to keep down that mounting pressure. A test, to see if you're just a little bit better than Martinez.

You steady your breathing and stare, trying to make this unnatural thing feel natural. Trying to not like it so much.

When he peels away, your skin is clean, and you can tell your blood is beginning to coagulate. "If you come back to me, I won't stop you. But if we're going to do this, I'd prefer somewhere with less concrete. In case you faint."

Your eyes narrow in on the slight pursing of his lips. Almost as if he were trying not to laugh. "I'm not scared of blood." You can’t tell if it’s because he’s so good at his poker face or if he really just doesn’t want to tease you further, but something about the clearness in his expression convinces you to speak up for yourself, “It’s probably because I missed dinner. That's all."

For one single moment, his face shifts. Then it smooths out again. You watch him climb onto the ledge, next to your long-forgotten excuse of a coffee, and turn back to you, "Will you be alright?"

You want to be annoyed about it, you really do, but the concern in his voice is true. As a compromise, you take a seat on the ledge, "Well, if you see the signal in the sky tonight, just assume I ate shit going downstairs."

As one final surprise, he smiles at you. Then he's disappearing into the darkness below.

You can hear Gordon in your head as you slip a bag of chips out of Martinez' upper drawer. After the vending machine had eaten six of your dollars, you'd given up just short of kicking a hole in the glass. You didn't want to think about what kind of hell Chief Bock would put you through for that one.

After the Bat left, you'd stumbled your way down several flights of stairs with the hopes of ending your shift only a little past midnight. There were still cops around, most unusually idle for a night in Gotham, and you supposed they had Batman to thank for that. Not that they ever would.

The very thought of him flashes images of his tongue on your skin, lapping at your blood, and you immediately force yourself to think of anything else. That was going to be a long-lasting memory.

If you were lucky, you at least wouldn't see him until tomorrow night, and that might give you time to get some sense into you. And food, too. The chips in your hand are no Michelin star dinner, but they'd hold you over until you made it home.

Just as you turn the corner to your office, you notice that something isn't quite how you left it. The door, for starters, is cracked where it was once closed.

You take a beat, then two. You listen for movement in your office, careful not to cast a shadow under the door and give yourself away, but hear nothing.

You push the door open in a rush, staring into the dimly lit room searching for the barrel of a gun staring back at you. Or, considerably worse, a person.

Instead, on your desk where it definitely wasn't before, is a bag of something that smells suspiciously like good food. You approach cautiously. Sure enough, you recognize it from Gordon's favorite lunch spot... your go-to, as only Gordon would know it.

A note is stuck to the side of the bag, a message written in neat curves and lines. The penmanship of a steady hand, not at all like your lieutenant's fast-moving scrawl. You read the note and feel a phantom sting where your wrist is patched up in band-aids.

Thanks for dinner.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman fic #batman fluff #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites

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ofpar1ahs · 10 months

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“ I reached inside myself, and found nothing there to ease the pressure off my ever worried mind. ” @nancewheelr

#nancewheelr #【 barb ic : you were saying?

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morgana-larkin · 18 days

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hi, I think I have a crazy and [loooong] prompt baskdjskkaka. From Melissa's line 'no women? nobody else?ever?'

The staff is reminiscing the little bickering a year ago or two about Janine's love life, only then the staff realize what has Mel said, that she's like into women too. Barb knows tho and Mr. J because ofc he knows everything what has happened in those hallways. So Ava, Janine and Jacob being themselves + Greg surprisingly, began to interrogate Mel about it and in some point she got tired of the constant questioning so she just admitted that she had a relationship with a woman before, particularly a teacher too at Abbott few years before the new teaching staff and principal arrived at the said school. She goes to describe the woman with a little smile on her face without realizing it, did not mention what happened saying they should take what she offers about her private life,the truth is, she still feel guilty of what has happened realizing she's wrong and it's too late. At that, she thought the staff will finally leave her alone but no, since she's single again after the failed proposal, they're like encouraging her to date and maybe try again with a woman. Ofc she declines, then one day Ava burst into the break room grinning, saying a new member of the district is around to help the school, but the top of the icing, as she quote, is she had finally found a match for Melissa not knowing who's r really is, then introduces r to the crew. And man, best believe Melissa almost threw herself out of the window when she sees the very woman she had a relationship before and apparently who she had managed to hurt that still haunts her at night, r is no different from the redhead as she is aslo shocked to see the woman, still there and stunning as ever, because last time they saw each other, the woman cursed that she doesn't think she can stay in a place where she knows r had lingered or stepped a foot with. So basically it's the queue for r to left Philly and never go back, but she's God's favorite and he decided to send her back to the very place she avoids the most. [The breakup is ugly, as it is a big misunderstanding, the redhead saw the other woman kissing, or rather being kissed by a man, against her will which she doesn't know since she became real irrational that point and didn't even listen to the plea of the other woman]

And bc of the weird and awkward reactions + interactions from the two women when they're in a room together, the staff slowly put 2 and 2 together that the new district member that has been sent to the school is the very woman who Mel had a past with.

That is so long I'm so sorry, I just need to let it all out or else I'm gonna combust

Anon it’s perfectly alright, let it all out. This took me so much longer to write and it’s just under 5,000 words😅. There’s so much fucking angst and as someone who hates seeing Melissa upset, I was literally glaring at myself for writing that Melissa is going through it. So I hope you enjoy it! As always not edited in the slightest!

As a side note I wanted to thank @janeyseymour for helping me out, I had no idea what former teachers do at all and she let me know a bunch of them!

Want You Back

Warnings: swearing, Melissa crying, smut

Words: 4.95k

“No women? Nobody else? Ever?” Melissa said 2 years ago.

“Wait, what did Melissa mean by that?” Janine asked Gregory and Jacob one day when they were walking into work and talking about the conversation they had in the library a couple years ago.

“I don’t know, but it is weird that her first instinct was to immediately ask about women first instead of men.” Jacob says, contributing to the conversation.

“Do I even want to know what you nerds are talking about?” Ava asked them.

“It’s about Melissa, from something she said 2 years ago.” Gregory said and Ava looked at them.

“Melissa has said a lot of things 2 years ago.” Ava said.

“It’s when we were in the library and I said that I’ve been dating my boyfriend since 8th grade and you all questioned it and Melissa said ‘no women’.” Janine explained to Ava and this caught her interest.

“Oh ya, I remember that. I say we question her.” Ava said but the trio stopped her.

“No, this is Melissa we’re talking about. She won’t tell us something about her life so easily.” Janine says.

“Good point, we could annoy her until she gives in.” Ava suggested.

“Maybe another plan where we don’t put our lives at risk.” Jacob says.

“Oh come on. Melissa likes us too much now to kill us.” Ava says proudly and they all look at her like she hit her head. “I did say now, 2 years ago she definitely would have killed us.”

“That’s true, but we can’t ask her multiple times in one go, it’ll have to be a couple to a few times a day.” Jacob says.

“Ok let’s start now.” Ava says, excited about this plan and heads towards the break room. Ava enters, drawing attention as usual with the trio in tow behind her. “Melissa, question.” Ava asks as she pours some coffee in a mug. Melissa glances up at her from her phone.

“What do you want Coleman?” Melissa asks and looks back to her phone, typing something.

Ava smiles at her as she pours an unnecessary amount of sugar in her coffee. “Have you ever dated a woman?” Ava asks and Melissa freezes.

She looks up from her phone, “what?” She asks.

“Have you ever dated a woman?” Ava repeats. Melissa looks at her and sees the trio looking at her waiting for a reply.

“It’s none of youse business who I have or haven’t dated.” She says and goes back to her phone.

The trio and Ava look at each other and smile a little. They have a feeling that Melissa actually might have dated a woman due to her freezing.

*At lunch*

“So you have dated a woman haven’t you?” Janine asks her at her table.

“I thought I told you this morning it’s none of your business.” She glares at her. Janine gets the hint and goes to her own table.

*after school*

“Melissa, we just want to know if you’ve dated a woman before.” Jacob tells her as they all leave the building together.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” Melissa asks them, annoyed.

“Because you never tell us anything about you.” Janine says.

“Ya we just want to get to know you better.” Gregory says.

Melissa rolls her eyes. “What brought this up all of a sudden?” She asks them.

“Well remember when Janine made us play that annoying game and write something about ourselves on a card and then we guess who it was.” Ava asks, earning a ‘heeeey’ from Janine for calling her game annoying.

“Vaguely.” Melissa says, very short with them right now.

“Well, after Janine said he’s only ever dated one guy since grade 8, your immediate response was ‘no women?’.” Ava says and Melissa looks at them.

Melissa then proceeds to walk to her car. “Like I said , none of youse business.” She says and reaches her car and turns to look at them. “So stop asking.” She says and gets in her car.

*the next morning*

The trio keep glancing over at Melissa. They want to ask but wondering if it’ll be dangerous to ask her.

“I feel you guys looking at me.” Melissa says looking at her phone, unimpressed by them. And at that Ava comes in.

“We just want to know the answer.” Jacob tells her.

Melissa sighs and turns around and glares at them. “Ok fine. Yes, I’ve dated a woman before, last one was a few years ago before youse started working here.” She told them and they all beam.

“Omg this is so exciting!” Janine squeals.

“I can’t believe you never told us you were bisexual.” Jacob says.

“What was she like?” Gregory says, and they all look at him then back to Melissa.

Melissa immediately starts thinking about you and she smiles. “She was a teacher here, she taught 3rd grade and left 4 years before you guys started.” She says pointing to Janine, Jacob and Ava. “She was beautiful and smart and brave. She was funny and sarcastic as well and able to keep up with my wit.” Melissa continues. And they all listen as Melissa describes you. And unknown to Melissa, she was smiling the entire time. The only thing Melissa refused to say was your name and why you broke up.

“Why don’t you want to say her name or why you broke up?” Ava says.

“How about youse people take what I give about my life and shut it.” Melissa says and turns back around to go on her phone. Barb looks at her concerned. Of course she knows what happened since she was there and knows how guilty Melissa feels about how it ended.

“Have you ever thought about dating again, specifically a woman?” Jacob says.

Melissa turns to look at him. “No, I’m not going through it again.” She says with a slight voice crack.

Of course none of them listen to her and keep on the lookout for a woman that’s Melissa’s type. And then one day, Ava does. She bursts into the break room, full grin on her face and immediately looks at Melissa then back to the full group, she thinks she found a match for Melissa. Melissa gets up to get herself a coffee and pours it into her mug.

“Hey nerds listen up! The school district sent us a vice principal to help out around the school and they’re paying for it.”

“Really?” Janine says.

“Yep, oh here she comes.” Ava says “and her name is y/n y/l/n.” She says as you enter.

Before anyone can say anything, the sound of a mug breaking is heard near the coffee machine. They all turn to see Melissa with her hand out, as she just dropped her favourite coffee mug full of coffee and it broke on the floor. She’s standing there looking at the new woman who entered in complete shock, completely unaware that she just dropped her mug. They all look towards you who’s looking at Melissa with an expression that can mirror Melissa’s.

“Melissa, r u ok?” Jacob says, and Melissa glances at him briefly before looking down at the floor.

“Uh, u-um y-ya ya, I’m fine, I’m just gonna let Mr Johnson know about the mess.” Melissa says and books it out of the room. A minute later Mr. Johnson appears and sees you , then shakes his head, muttering ‘this will be interesting’.

They all introduce themselves to you , except for Barb. Once the trio and Ava leave, you look at Barb then at your feet, not knowing what to say to her.

“It’s nice to see you again dear.” Barb says and you look up at her.

“I had no idea that Melissa was still working here. I also didn’t really have a choice, the district sent me saying this school needs a vice principal and I needed a job.” You tell her.

“It’s alright, I understand.” Is all she says.

“I-I’ll avoid Melissa as much as possible while I’m here, to avoid any drama as I’m sure she’ll do with me. So you don’t have to worry about that.” You tell her then leave.

After that Barb leaves the break room and goes to check on Melissa. And sure enough, just like she thought, Melissa is having a full on crisis in her classroom. Melissa is at her desk writing something harshly, then gets angry at her pen for not working properly then throws it across the room.

“You’re handling it better than I thought.” Barb says after she sees Melissa throw the pen. Melissa whips her head at Barb and looks at her with anger in her eyes that quickly turns to tears. Barb immediately goes and comforts her the best she could.

“I can’t believe after all these years, she’s here again.” Melissa says, crying into Barb’s shoulder during a hug.

“I know dear, I know.” Barb says, patting her back.

“I thought I’d never see her again, after 6 years I still feel guilty about what happened.” Melissa says, still crying.

*6 years ago*

You and Melissa were at a club, drinking. Celebrating the end of another school year.

“Hey Amore, can you go get us some more drinks?” Melissa asks you, as she got the previous ones.

“Of course beautiful.” You tell her and give her a quick kiss on the lips with a smile. You then get up and go to the bar to get some drinks. You order a drink for you and Melissa’s favourite drink, then a man comes up next to you as you're waiting, and starts chatting you up.

“Hey there pretty lady.” He says and you glance at him and sigh, you just ignore him.

After your drinks are done, the guy is still trying to talk to you. Before you can reach for your drinks, he gets up and goes behind you and kisses you, blocking any possible exit. The guy is twice your side, you try pushing him off but he wouldn’t budge.

Melissa is wondering what’s taking you so long as it’s been 5 minutes. She gets up and goes to the bar and sees you with a man’s tongue down your throat, pressed up against the bar and Melissa sees red. As soon as the guy gets away from you, you see Melissa standing there about 10 feet away, looking pissed. Melissa stomps over to you, grabs your wrist and drags you out of the club.

“WHAT THE HELL Y/N!!! WHY WERE YOU KISSING HIM!” She yells at you and you’re taken aback.

“Did you think I wanted him to kiss me?” You ask.

“Well it sure as hell didn’t look like you weren’t enjoying it!!!” She yells at you.

“Melissa I didn’t…” You try to explain what happened but she cuts you off.

“I don’t fucking care what lame ass excuse you’re about to give!!! I want you and your shit out of my house and nowhere near me again!!! In fact!! Why don’t you leave the fucking city! I don’t want to see you and your cheating face ever again!!!” She yells at you and then turns around to go to her car. You run up and grab her arm to try and get her to listen to you. She shoves your hand off of her and you try again. “Let go of my y/n!” She tries to shove your hand off of her again but you hold on.

“Please Melissa! Just listen to me!” You tell her with tears in your eyes. “He kissed me! I didn’t…” she doesn’t want to listen to you anymore and pushes you off of her and you stumble and fall back on the ground. You look at her full of hurt and tears. She just turns back around and walks to her car and drives away.

You end up staying at a friend's house for a few weeks. You end up telling the principal of Abbott Elementary that you quit and won’t be coming back, you get all your stuff from Melissa’s house when she told you she won’t be there so you can come pick it up. And after 2 months, you end up finding a place out of Philly and get a job at the school district. You feel hurt and abandoned by Melissa. Your friend told you to forget about her if she wasn’t willing to listen to what happened and fight for you. You left a note at her place, explaining what happened at the bar as she blocked your number after telling you when she won’t be there for a whole weekend to come get your stuff. You left her place with your things, completely heartbroken, you thought Melissa would be it for you but you guess you were wrong

Melissa on the other end wasn’t any better, when she got back from her weekend trip, she saw your note and read it. Full of tears in her eyes as she realised her mistake. She immediately unblocks your number and a bunch of messages you tried to send her appear. She read them all, she wanted to send you a message, saying she got your note and wanted to talk, and then she saw your last message.

You: I know you won’t get this Melissa but I’m really sorry about what happened. I’ll be changing my number today and moving out of Philly soon so you won’t see or hear from me again. Love, y/n.

She saw that the message was sent yesterday, she was too late. She has no idea where you are and no way of contacting you.

*back to present day*

“Melissa, what if this is your chance to fix that mistake?” Barb says. “You told me that if you got a chance to apologise then you would take it.”

“It’s been 6 years Barb, she’s probably moved on and doesn’t care about me anymore.” She tells her. Barb doesn’t push her anymore, knowing she needs time and space right now.

At lunch time, you finish talking to Janine in the break room and go to leave. At the same time Melissa is coming in and you walk into each other. You both stare at each other for a few seconds, not knowing what to do or say. You then walk around her and leave the break room. Melissa stands there for a few more seconds in shock. She then looks over at everyone and they’re staring at her confused about what just happened. Melissa doesn’t say anything, she just gets her lunch and eats in silence.

The second period after lunch, Melissa has a prep period as her kids are in art class. She’s marking some tests when you knock on her door. Melissa doesn’t look up as she’s finishing up marking a question.

“Just a sec.” She says.

“That’s fine, I can wait.” You say and Melissa freezes and looks up. “I’ll just sit in one of the students' chairs. I’m sure they won’t mind.” You say with a chuckle.

Melissa quickly finishes marking the question and then looks up at you. “Hi y/n” she says and you look at her.

“Hi Melissa, long time no see.” You tell her.

“Ya, 6 years.” She says, embarrassed.

“Barb told me what happened with the vending machine guy, sorry about that.” You tell her and she nods.

“Y/n was there something you wanted?” She says.

“I wanted to make sure that me being the vice principal here won’t cause any…conflicts.” You tell her.

Melissa freezes, she’s caught in between, she wants to say yes so that you’ll leave and she won’t have to feel guilty every time she sees you but a bigger part of her wants to say no, she missed you and it was nice seeing your face and smile again. Melissa knows what she has to do, she can’t be selfish but she can be careful.

“No I don’t see why it would.” And you look at her and Melissa feels the need to get it over with. “I mean I moved on and you moved on, the past is the past right?” She says and if she’s honest, it hurt her to say that to you.

You were in a similar spot. It hurt to hear her say that she’s moved on from you but what would you expect. It’s been 6 years and you guys ended badly and you assumed that more than likely she didn’t read your note, probably threw it out.

“Ya, we’ll keep it professional.”

“Ya professional, exactly.” She agreed and you got up.

“Oh I’m supposed to introduce myself to all the teachers and ask if there’s anything they need.” You tell. “I got to know the principal more and while she’s nicer than the one that was here when I was a teacher, this one also doesn’t do anything.” You say and she chuckles.

“Ya I have a feeling you’ll be doing most of the principal duties as well.” She says.

“Yep, more than likely. So was there anything you need? Paper? Glue sticks? Pens?” You ask her.

“No no, I think I’m good for now but I’ll let you know if that changes.” She says and you nod.

“Alright.” You say and go to leave then turn back around. “Btw love the rugs. Am I correct to assume you had something to do with that?”

Melissa smiles and puts her index finger over her lips “shh” she says and you smile and mime zipping your mouth. After you leave , Melissa looks at the doorway and sighs. “What I need is you.” She says quietly.

Over the next month, the trio and Ava slowly start to figure it out. You and Melissa barely are in the same room together, barely speak to each other, and when you do, it’s very awkward and uncomfortable. Then they see Melissa’s face when she sees you, full of guilt and sadness. And when you see Melissa, your face is full of hurt.

“Melissa, how do you know y/n?” Janine asks Melissa after a month of watching the awkwardness.

“She’s the vice principal, so we all know her.” Melissa says to them, the trio not convinced for a second and she doesn’t even believe it herself.

“Come on Melissa, it’s obvious you knew her before she got here.” Jacob says. “I mean you’re interactions with her are awkward and tense. And when she first got here you dropped your favourite mug. I mean the only reason I would act that way is if…’’ Jacob doesn’t finish it as he put it all together and he gasps. “Omg y/n is the woman you dated!” He squeals out and Melissa whips her head around in shock since he figured it out.

“How the hell did you figure it out!” Melissa says and immediately her eyes go wide and covers her mouth with her hand for accidentally confirming what he said.

“So wait he’s right? She’s the one you told us about?” Janine says and Melissa rubs her temple with her hands.

“Ok fine, yes he’s right. Y/n is the woman I dated 6 years ago. But it ended badly and I don’t want to talk about it any further.” Melissa says and then walks out of the break room.

“What’s the matter with Melissa?” Ava says as she enters. “She seems grumpier than usual, I just said hi to her and she told me to go to hell.”

“Y/n is the woman that Melissa dated 6 years ago.” Jacob says and Ava has a shocked expression.

“Omg really?” She says. “Barb, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because Ava, it’s not my secret to tell, it’s Melissa and y/n’s.” Barb says to her. “What I will tell you is Melissa feels guilty and is too afraid to apologise and y/n is too busy thinking that Melissa hates her. I’ve been trying to tell each of them to talk to each other but they’re both so stubborn.”

“Maybe we can trap them somewhere together and force them to talk to each other.” Ava suggests and they all agree, including Barb, that it’s not a bad idea.

“Ok but that requires a door that can lock from the outside and you can’t unlock it without a key from the inside.” Gregory says.

“I know just the place.” Mr Johnson says and they all turn to look at him on the other side of the room, not knowing he was there.

“You’re willing to help us with this?” Janine asks him.

“I was rooting for them 6 years ago when y/n was a teacher here.” He says and they look at him. Of course he knew, they honestly are not surprised at this point.

They put their plan into play, the next day during lunch they were gonna lock you two in the janitorial closet and Janine was gonna take Melissa’s kids with hers and go to the gym and then do a big art project in her classroom.

So when Melissa was going to get her kids, Janine asks Melissa if she could help her reach something from the Janitor closet and Mr Johnson went to ask you if you could help him with something in the closet. Melissa was grabbing the item when you walked in and then the door shut. You ran to it and tried to open it but it was locked.

“Did they just lock us in here?” You ask her. Melissa was too stunned to see you that she didn’t even realise what happened until you spoke.

“Ya I think they did.” She said.

“Why would they do that?” You ask her, annoyed.

“Probably for us to talk.” She says and you look at her.

“What is there for us to talk about? There’s absolutely nothing for us to talk about” You say and cross your arms.

“Actually there’s something. ” Melissa says and sits on one of the chairs that’s in there, while you sit on the other.

“What is it then?” You ask her and she takes a deep breath.

“6 years ago.” Is all she says but you understood.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about. You said it yourself, it’s in the past and we’ve both moved on.” You said and you look at her and she looks hurt. “What?”

“Have you really moved on?” She asked and you look at her.

“It doesn't matter, I know you moved on though. ”

“Ya a failed proposal is definitely not moving on.” she says.

“But you were in a serious enough relationship with him for him to propose.” You tell her and she looks down.

“Ya I guess so.” She gets her phone out to text Barb to come let them out and gets a reply back.

Barb: not until you talk to her.

Melissa: no, it’s too painful, please let us out.

Barb: I’m sorry Melissa but I know this was hurting you. Seeing her everyday is hurting you.

“They’re not gonna let us out anytime soon are they?” You ask her.

“I don’t think so.” She says and then looks at you. “I’m sorry.” She says.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t lock us in here.” You say, totally missing what she was apologising for.

“That’s not what I’m apologising for.” She says and you look at her.

“Then what are you apologising for?”

“For 6 years ago, making a big mistake.”

“Wha-”

“I read your note.” She says, cutting you off. “I should have listened to you but I was just so angry that I couldn’t think.” She tells you and looks at you with guilt. “The real reason I said no to Gary is because I didn’t want to be with him because I still have feelings for you. And I felt so guilty about how I reacted and I unblocked your number when I got home after reading your note and read all the texts and I wanted to find you or contact you but I had no way of doing that.” And a few tears slip down her cheeks.

“I haven’t moved on, you know. I’ve forgiven you for that night but I haven’t gotten over you.” You say and Melissa is looking at you with wide puffy eyes. “I tried, I ended up living with a girlfriend for a year. But then she broke up with me when she wanted more and I didn’t. Said I was emotionally unavailable. Which I guess is true, you can’t develop big feelings for someone if your heart belongs to someone else.” You said and the look on Melissa’s face said it all.

“Who does your heart belong too?”

“You.” Melissa sucked in a breath. “When I saw you standing there in the break room after 6 years, I couldn’t believe it, and you still look beautiful and stunning.” She let out an airy laugh.

“You as well, you still look so damn beautiful. My heart belongs to you too.” Melissa then gets up and walks over to you and crouches next to you and holds your hand and you look down at her. “I want to be with you again, if you’ll have me.” She says and you tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and smile at her.

“Of course, I want to be with you again too.” You said and Melissa beams. Then she gets up and leans in and kisses you. After 6 years Melissa finally felt back home again, like her lips are supposed to be on yours and no one else’s. You pull back after needing to breathe and you look at Melissa who’s smiling at you.

“You know I don’t think they’ll let us out until it’s the end of the day. So we still got… 2 and a half hours.” Melissa says, looking at her phone. You then get up and make her walk backwards and get her to sit on her chair and then straddle her lap.

“I think I want to know how to spend that time.” You tell her with a smile then go to kiss her again.

Melissa kisses you back passionately with her hands in your hair and yours are on her hips. Melissa’s hands travel down your body and land on your chest. She then puts her hands under your shirt and cups your boobs and you moan into the kiss. She then moves her lips down to your neck and starts sucking on it and you gasp before placing your mouth on her shoulder to muffle your sounds. Melissa giggles at your actions before unclipping your bra and lifts your shirt so she can put her lips around your nipples. You try to move your body so you can grind her leg but Melissa keeps you where you are and you whine.

“Patience, I don’t want to waste you on my leg.” She tells you and flips you both so you’re the one on the chair and removes your pants and underwear. She then immediately dives down and licks your pussy and you cover your mouth with your arm to muffle your moan. Melissa then puts her tongue in your entrance and begins tongue fucking you and you bite down on your arm as it feels so good.

Melissa tastes you again after years and thinks of how you still taste so good. She moans and it vibrates on your entrance and you gasp. She moves her tongue out of your entrance and goes for your clit and sucks on it. You’re moaning into your arm like crazy right now as Melissa is fucking magical with her tongue.

Melissa looks at you trying your best to muffle your sounds and gets up and kisses you. While kissing you, she slips a finger into your entrance and a thumb to your clit and you clutch her hair. She slips another finger in and pushes them in and out of you quickly while rubbing your clit. It doesn’t take long until you’re shaking and Melissa knows you’re about to come.

“Go on Tesoro, come for me.” Melissa whispers into your ear and then goes right back to kissing you just in time for you to come. “As soon as they let us out of this closet, I’m taking you to my place. I’ll cook us something and then it’s to my bed. How does that sound?” Melissa asks you after removing her fingers out of you.

“I like the sound of that.” You tell her, trying to catch your breath. “I honestly miss your cooking, and your body.” You say and she smiles as she kisses you again. She helps you get dressed after kissing you and then she sits down on the floor with you curled up on her.

And that’s how the Abbott crew finds them after they go to unlock the door after the students leave. They unlock it and see you on Melissa with her hands wrapped protectively around you and they all have their mouths open in shock.

“Oh finally.” Melissa says and you get off of her and help her up. “Come on.” She tells you and grabs your hand and begins sprinting out of there and you’re both giggling.

“Was that a hickey on y/n’s neck?” Janine says and they all look at her then back at you two running out of the building.

And when the two of you get to her place, Melissa keeps her word of making a meal then spending the rest of the evening in her bed.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

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If you want to be added then let me know!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 9 months

Text

close to home | chapter forty four

plot: the reader is attacked at the Sanctuary

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 2,232 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd, attempted rape/sexual assult, murder A/N: thank you for reading!!!

On your fourth day at the Sanctuary, Negan came to see you after you ate breakfast with the other wives. Sherry gave you a reassuring look, and you followed Negan out the sitting room door.

It was quiet as the two of you walked, and you tried your hardest to ignore the lighting reflecting off the barbed wire bat. Negan led you through the compound and out the front doors. It was the first time you felt fresh air, and you closed your eyes at the feeling of it.

When you opened them, Negan stared at you and leaned against the railing. “I thought you might like some fresh air.” He said to you. For the first time, he wasn’t playing his little game. He was talking like a normal person. But you felt like this was another game. One he used to get people’s guards down.

“I would, thank you,” You said.

“Sherry says you’re adjusting. I’m happy to hear it. And she seems to like you.” Negan said.

You nodded but weren’t sure what else to say. Finally, “Thank you, Negan.”

He smiled, and you knew it was what he wanted. “I’m going to be heading to Alexandria tomorrow. I figured I’d give Rick a nice visit and see what the community offers me.”

You froze at his words and didn’t reply.

“I’ll have Dwight come by before and see if you want him to grab anything for you since this is where you belong now,” Negan said, standing straight up and walking towards the stairs.

You knew you were expected to follow him, so you did. You kept your gaze low as Negan approached the walker fence, but when you felt someone’s gaze burning, you saw Daryl working the fence.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you felt your fingers twitch. You hoped Negan didn’t hear, but by the smile on his face, you knew he did. When you felt his arm wrap around your waist, you wanted to squirm but stayed still. What a terrible game he liked to play.

“Well, look who we have here,” Negan said, leading you over to the fence. “Daryl’s working the fence. Don’t mind us, of course, just taking my beautiful wife on a walk on this beautiful day.” Negan taunted him.

Your eyes remained locked on Daryl’s, and you could see the anger rising to his chest. You shook your head slowly, trying to tell him not to do something stupid.

“Do you have a problem with that, Daryl?” Negan further pressed, “Or are you just admiring the piece of ass my wife is. Do you have anything to say to her?"

You bit your lip to suppress your words and again shook your head at Daryl.

For once in his life, he didn’t react to his anger, and you wanted to cry for thankfulness. Daryl just simply shook his head and went back to work.

Negan chuckled and gave your side a squeeze before pulling you along. It took every ounce of strength not to look back.

Your gaze turned to the man you met yesterday, Jake, standing nearby. He had seen the entire thing and was staring at you. You tried not to shiver under the gaze.

***

Later that night, it was just you, Sherry, and Amber in the sitting room. Sherry suggested watching a movie, and you decided you wanted to. You needed something to get your mind off of how depressed you’d been.

You had popcorn for the first time in ages with an iced cold beer, and if things were completely different, you might have been content. And you were warming up to the wives. They were all in the same predicament as you, so you couldn’t hate them. It helped that you weren’t alone.

The movie was nearing it’s end when the doors opened, and the three of you stilled as men walked into the room. If there was one thing you leaned over the past few days, saviors weren’t allowed on this floor without Negan. So when you didn’t see Negan, you grew worried.

“Jake, what is this?” Sherry asked, standing up.

The savior didn’t say anything and nodded towards one you didn’t recogonize, and he pulled a gun on the three of you.

Amber whimpered, and Sherry grabbed both of your arms. “Jake, what are you doing?”

“I’m getting my revenge,” Jake said. Then to the man with a gun, “Get Sherry and Amber against the wall, now.”

A few more guys walked into the room, totaling seven, and you were vastly outnumbered. Then you heard Daryl grunting as he was pulled in, and your stomach dropped. “What is this?” You asked through your teeth.

Jake walked over to you and grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the couch.

“Don’ touch her!” Daryl yelled.

“Jake, don’t do this!” Sherry shouted, holding a shaking Amber. “You know what he’ll do to you,”

“Negan’s busy with a little distraction downstairs,” Jake said, “And besides, we ain’t killing anyone.”

Your eyes widened as another man grabbed your arms from behind. You heard Daryl yelling, and you only looked at him for a few seconds, trying to fight off the four men holding him hostage.

Jake grabbed your legs as you squirmed and kicked, but they got you to the floor in a second.

“Don’t touch me!” You screamed, thrashing your legs and trying to pull your arms free. But the man holding your arms pinned them down, and Jake put his weight on your legs. You cried out in terror and pain.

“(Y/N)!” Daryl’s voice was like torture.

“You shouldn’t have killed my brother,” Jake said.

"Fuck you!" You screamed, kicking as hard as you could. "I'm glad that son of a bitch is dead, and I will kill you for this."

You heard the tear of your panties and felt your dress being pushed up.

The yelling in the room got louder, and you closed your eyes as you prepared yourself for what would happen. Your body shook with sobs, and you tried to pull your hands away one last time before you knew you were defeated.

Just when you knew it was about to happen, when you were trying your best to block out Sherry's yelling, Amber's sobs and Daryl screaming obscenities, promises of death, and trying to fight, you heard Negan’s whistle.

Your body filled with relief as you watched saviors flood into the room and Negan slaughter on in. You were immediately released, and you pulled down your dress, shaking and crawling away from the men that held you.

Sherry darted across the room as you cornered yourself by the wall, and she dropped down next to you, taking you in her arms. You couldn’t stop crying and shaking.

“Well, well, well,” Negan said, looking around the room. “Here I am, trying to sort out some damn issues downstairs, when Frankie comes up to me and tells me the floors locked, and she heard screaming! Can you believe that?”

“I thought to myself,” Negan said, scratching his temple, “She must be mistaken! For I knew my wives were havin’ a good ol’ fashioned movie night here under my care! And then I realized some of my men were missing,”

You watched through Sherry’s arm as Negan approached the man who had a gun on her and Amber. He took the gun from the man and, within half a second, shot him in the head.

“So I let Simon deal with the issue while I went to find out what was going on with my wives,” Negan said, swirling his bat. He approached the man that had been holding your hands. “And I do not like what I see.” With one swing, the man was on the ground, dead.

Then Negan approached you, and you shook harder in Sherry’s arms. He knelt before you, "Baby, are you okay?”

You shook your head no.

Negan stood up. “You see that! My wife isn’t okay! And oh, no, no, no. I do not like that at all.” Negan circled the room, and his eyes landed on Daryl, still pinned to the ground. “And to make him watch? Jesus! Even I’m not that fucked up.”

He gave a nod to the saviors who had come up with him, and they quickly replaced the four men that had pinned Daryl down.

“Take these men to the cells; they’ll be dealt with later,” Negan said.

There was some shuffling, and then Daryl was on his feet, held back by different men. You met his eyes, and your heart cracked at the hopelessness on his face. You wanted to be wrapped up in his arms; you wanted him to tell you everything was okay. But you didn’t dare move.

“And I guess that just leaves you,” Negan said, looking at Jake. “I gotta know just what you were thinking! You thought you could put guns on Sherry and Amber and rape my wife!” Negan started yelling. His voice deepened, and you flinched at the sound of it. Sherry hugged you harder.

“I-I..."

“Don’t you dare try to lie to me!” Negan screamed, “We caught you in the act. And oh boy, are you going to regret ever thinking up this plan of yours. You think you can touch what’s mine? I’m Negan!”

You heard the bat hit Jake’s arm, and the sound of Jake screaming in pain. He dropped to the floor, and you flinched as you watched Negan strike every part of Jake that wouldn’t kill him.

“We don’t rape!” Negan yelled. The bat came down again and again and again. You heard bone crunching through Jake’s cries of agony.

“And now look at what you made me do; I made such a mess in my wive's sitting room!” Negan said, “Guys, take him to the doc, have him fixed up. Oh, do I got plans for this one. And get Daryl back to his room, now! And get someone to clean up this mess!”

Everyone shuffled, and within thirty seconds, it was just you, Sherry, Amber, and Negan in the room. A giant puddle of blood pooled on the floor, your only evidence of what happened.

Negan helped you stand up on shaking legs, and he lifted your chin to make you look at him. “Listen to me, (Y/N), if anyone touches you, you come to me, you got it?” He asked, and his voice was so genuine you knew it wasn’t an act. “Sherry, why don’t you take her to get washed up. Are any of you hurt?”

“No,” Sherry answered for you, wrapping her arms around your shoulder. “Come on, (Y/N),” She said to you.

You took a few steps with her before you paused and turned back to look at Negan. You’d never seen the look on his face before. This wasn’t the Negan you knew. This was something different. This looked more… real. Like he genuinely cared about what happened.

“Negan,” You said quietly, and he looked at you. “Thank you."

#daryl x y/n #daryl dixion x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl twd #twd #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl x you

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couldntbemestaysafeyall · 1 year

Text

Watch out

✧ ｡ pairing: Ushijima x fem!reader

✧ ｡ genre: hurt to comfort

✧ ｡ warnings: cursing, rejection, light injury, jealousy, Not proofread, 3100+ words

✧ ｡ In which Goshiki's clumsiness helps you get with your crush

You first met Ushijima in middle school. He was so put together, clean, stoic. Never a hair out of place. He was perfect. Well at least in the eyes of a pre-teen girl who had cystic acne and barbed wire in her teeth he was. All those things couldn’t compare to his determination. He never gave up not on volleyball, not on group projects, and never on his friends. After admiring him throughout middle school you finally held a conversation with him in your first year of high school when you two were placed in the same group. Of course, by high school you had grown and matured. You recognized that you could no longer admire others more than you’d admire yourself. This didn’t stop you from sneaking glances and scribbling down fun details about the boy when no one was looking. You also won’t deny the fact that the main reason you joined journalism was so you could take public pictures of the boy without being viewed as a stalker. In your first year of high school, you finally realized that you idolized the boy more than you thought.

In your second year of high school, you began to recognize Ushijima as a human being. Yes, it sounded horrible but honestly before that year you viewed him as a character written in a book. That all changed when Ushijima asked you for notes from the previous class he missed because of volleyball. After that day you both became mutual notes and homework buddies. Whenever the other was absent you’d give them your notes. You don’t know why but it made you realize the boy couldn’t do it all. In the middle of second year, you realized that you had now formed an ACTUAL crush on the boy. Not the boy you idolized in previous years but the boy you got to know this year. Ushijima Wakatoshi. Not the perfect boy you happened to meet in middle school. The actual Ushijima Wakatoshi. The one who had a soft spot for cats. The one that would offer to walk you home if you both stayed after school too late. The one who’d get embarrassed when reading in front of the class and slipping up. The one who was allergic to peanuts. But of course, you recognizing this would do nothing, though the boy was a gentleman it was obvious only one thing clouded his mind and that was volleyball.

“Tendou if you don’t hurry up, I’ll stick my foot so far up your ass you’d wish you were dead” you grumble at the boy taking his sweet time at the vending machine. “Hey hey calm down sweets its not like he’s going anywhere” the red head winks as you slap him on his shoulder lightly. He was right Ushijima wasn’t going anywhere you knew he’d be in the gym until it was closed for access which wasn’t until hours from now. “Ouch. Ok Ms. lovebird” He picks up his drink and you roll your eyes. As you get inside the gym you hear a loud scream coming from inside “WATCH OUT” you wish you heard it sooner or you wouldn’t be in the situation you’re in now. Which is sitting on the bench with an icepack on your head and Goshiki apologizing profusely. “Its alright kid I’m fine” that’s probably the biggest lie you’ve ever told. Your head is currently killing you. And your crush is continuing his training as if you aren’t sitting in pain on the bench. “Tendou take her to the nurse’s office” Ushijima says as he waits for another ball to practice spiking. “Sir yes sir” Tendou jokingly responds as he rushes you out the gym.

“Who would have thought you would be my ticket out of practice thanks Y/N” you shove the boy in an agitated manner “Shut up before I follow through with my threat from earlier” you mumble as you get in the nurse’s office “I mean can you believe that, he barely even looked at me” you sigh as you plop down on an unoccupied bed “Boy problems again” the nurse chuckles looking at Tendou and getting an ice pack from the freezer. “When is it not” Tendou laughs sitting on the edge of your bed. “I just don’t get it he said when we were walking to school, I was one of the people he was closest to, but he doesn’t even care I got hurt?” you whine as the nurse gives you the ice pack “Honey don’t think it’s time for you to branch out its your last year of high school and you’ve been stuck on the same guy” the nurse says as she hands the boy who came with you a ice pop. “Thanks Ms. Suzuki” he smiles widely as he opens the cold treat “I know it’s just…I feel there’s something there one second but then the next I feel like I’m a nobody to him" you sulk deeper into the bed “I think you should confess it wouldn’t hurt to try” the boy who’s been trying to get you to confess for months say “The thing is it would hurt…like a lot” you say as you try to kick the boy off the corner of your bed causing the nurse to chuckle “Ahh I wish I still had the chance to my high school crush” she sighs continuing the paper work she was doing before the two teens appeared. “You know what I’m gonna do it” you quickly sit up discarding the ice pack “Sure” the annoying boy speaks his doubts. “Shut up” you say as you quickly pack your bags and run out the nurse office “Thanks for the motivation, Ms. Suzuki” you give her a wink and leave “HEY WAIT FOR ME” the boy rushes out also thanking the nurse for her time. “Ah to be young again” she laughs as she continues her work.

Today was the day. The bump planted on your head had officially gone down and your skin was as clear as day. Your uniform was crisp, and your hair was just the way you liked it. As soon as the bell rang you jumped out your seat and ran to the gym there you found a place where you knew no flying balls would hit you. Today was going to be THE day you confessed to Ushijima Wakatoshi. As the gym flooded with the volleyball players you could see the red head boy winking and giving you a thumbs up. You also see Goshiki coming up to you with an apology basket and note. “I’m so so sorry again for what happened” he bows, and you pat his head “Shiki you don’t have to keep giving me gifts the swelling has already gone down” you giggle at the apologetic boy ushering him off to practice. It’s been at least a week since the incident and he’s still bringing you apology gifts “Hey Ushijima” you yell at the ace “Can you walk me home today” you ask as he places his bags down “Sure” he nods with his perfectly chiseled stoic face…. Anyways this was you chance it was your time you’re calling your “WATCH OUT” oh god you are now putting an ice pack over your eye “Oh my god” Goshiki says almost about to faint “Y/N is your face a magnet to balls” Tendou laughs uncontrollably. “Your face is about to be a magnet for my fist if you don’t shut up” you groan. At this point the Goshiki is now on the ground pleading for forgiveness. “Y/N” you turn to see your crush says looking you in the eye “We can leave early today” those words make your heart skip a beat. “Sure” you nod as you get up waving goodbye to the team.

“Are you ok” Ushijima looks at you in curiosity. “Yeah, nothing I haven’t been through. literally.” You chuckle and he smiles “Maybe Goshiki doesn’t like you” he concludes as he walks you home “Maybe” you laugh not knowing when the right moment is. You guys are almost there, and you still can’t think of the words to say. “Do you like me?” you ask mentally kicking yourself and stopping in your tracks “Well none of the balls thrown at you have been by me so I guess” he looks back at you and you can just tell he’s not getting the memo “No no Wakatoshi I mean like like” you say looking at him with hope “I’m not understanding” he looks at you confused “Do you like me in a girlfriend and boyfriend way” you say louder and after that is nothing but silence so you continue “Because Wakatoshi I like you in a girlfriend and boyfriend way, I’ve liked you in that way for a long time and I was hoping you’d like me that way too. Since middle school I admire your determination and skills but not too long ago I began to like you as a human being.” You finish your speech with a puff and the moment you look into his eyes you know his answer “I appreciate you a lot Y/N” he starts off “And your one of the closest people to me” he pauses “But I cant accept” he sighs looking at you and your heart breaks again “I care about you a lot and I know that the mentality I’m in currently wouldn’t be able to care for you the way a boyfriend should” he bows at you “My only and main focus right now is volleyball and you deserve someone who’s main focus is you” he looks back up and sees the tears coming up in your eyes and it hurts him to he goes in to give you a hug but you decline “I can walk the rest alone” you say sniffling leaving the ace alone only looking at your fading figure.

It’s been exactly 5 days since the whole ordeal, and you haven’t attended any practices “Y/NNNN please come back” Tendou nags you as you get some books out your locker “Tendou please just leave me alone right now” you say sighing you honestly do want to go to their game tomorrow but the awkwardness from being around Ushijima would crush you and the rest of your dignity. “You’re seriously not coming to the game Y/N” he whines more, and you just walk away. Sadly, you bump into the one person you don’t want to see Ushijima Wakatoshi “Hello Y/N are you ok” you nod and walk past him wishing the day would just end “Soooo toshi” the red head boy says to the older boy who is still watching you leave “You know how coach banned us from overexerting ourselves before a game. The older boy nods still looking in your direction after you left “We should invite the team to a relaxation movie night” Tendou says causing the ace to finally look back at him “Ok” is all Ushijima says before walking away with newly slumped shoulders.

Ushijima never really watched movies. It was never his thing. Of course, that was until he became friends with you and Tendou. You guys had begun a new ritual after every game, winning or losing, you’d watch a movie that was voted upon. Ushijima never really enjoyed them, but he did enjoy you arguing with Tendou to shut up and you screaming in fear. He thinks his favorite part of the movie is after its over and you’d debate topics and point out details you thought no one else noticed. A secret he’d tell no one is that he’d never remember a single detail about the movies you guys watched but he’d remember every detail you said about the movie afterword. He loved to hear you speak it became one of his favorite things over the time of your friendship. Which is why he was so bitter when you didn’t speak a word to him the past few days and the way you just nodded at him and left without even saying anything. He hated it and he also hated watching movies without you. He saw no point if you weren’t going to tell him your theories and recaps after it was finished. But he wanted to get his mind off everything, and he thought watching a movie with his team would help… he was wrong

Tendou’s sappy self of course had to choose a romance movie. Even after the whole team protested, he still sat nice in comfy in his blanket and played it. This was meant to distract Ushijima from you but honestly the first thing he thought when it was turned on is how much you loved romance movies. How you’d gush about how the male lead treated the female lead and how they were always so cute. How you’d say how much you’d want a love like that. As the movie progressed those thoughts in his head grew and grew until he began imagining you and him in these cliché situations. When the movie ended Ushijima was left bamboozled, he didn’t know what was going on, but he knew he wanted to experience every sappy scenario in the movie with you. From the cuddling to the gift giving and even sometimes kissing even wandered his mind. He thought this movie night would help with his confusion, but it just caused more. Honestly, he couldn’t grasp what he was going to do all he knew is he did like like you…

Shiratorizawa Academy won yesterday’s game as expected but there was still a saddening cloud hanging over the team’s head. “She didn’t come because of me” Goshiki says saddened “I threw a ball at her face twice she’s never gonna forgive me” the future ace whines “Goshiki I’m sure she’s not that mad at you she was probably busy” Semi consoles him “Or she didn’t want another ball sent flying at her face” Tendou cackles and the younger boy whines more “She’s so sweet and kind and pretty but I keep taking advantage of that” Goshiki nearly sobs and the whole gym goes quite “Oh” Tendou’s devilish smirk appears “Does our little first year have a crush on Y/N” Tendou jokingly gasp looking at Ushijima who is stunned “No- its just- I admire her a lot and thinks she’s really pretty” the first year quickly says “if you like her so much you should tell her” Tendou teases “No” Ushijima says causing everyone to look at him “Hmm why is that Miracle Boy” Tendou smiles evilly. “She has a boyfriend” Ushijima quickly and nonchalantly says as Goshiki looks at the ace in shock “Really who” Semi chimes in “me” and the entire gym is left in shock.

This was gonna be your first day going to a training after… the incident. The only reason you were going is because you needed more pictures of the volleyball trainings. Mostly because before you slack off and just admire Ushijima’s unfortunately perfect face. So, this is kinda karma. The moment you walk in the entire gym goes silent. “Hey, I came to take some pictures for the yearbook” you smile shyly as if you haven’t been in this gym ever in your life. Goshiki is the first to greet you and apologizes profusely again. “Sweets you don’t have to apologize I know you didn’t do it on purpose, and I admire your ability to apologize so sincerely” you smile and pat the boy on the head causing him to look at your rumored boyfriend. Semi is the one to bring up the question “Are you and Ushijima actually dating” he says with a confused look. You feel as if your heart just dropped to your ass, and you looked shockingly at Ushijima who comes closer to you wrapping his arm around your shoulder and nods. Your left short-circuiting while he goes back to practice while you take your pictures. “Y/N” you recognize the voice immediately “I’m gonna walk you home today” he says smiling at you “WATCH OUT”

But this time it isn’t you getting a ball to the face it was Ushijima “Captain I’m so sorry” Goshiki apology to the captain sounding way less sincere than his apology to you “It’s fine I’m leaving early anyway” he says holding the ice pack to his eye and grabbing his things “come one Y/N” you get up saying goodbye to the team. “You didn’t have to tell them we were dating to save me from the embarrassment” you say looking down. You assume Tendou slipped and told everyone about your confession and to make you feel less like a loser he pretended to accept it. “What do you mean” he says as he continues to put the ice pack on his eye. “I’m guessing Tendou told everyone about my confession?” you ask “No” he says stoic “Then why did you-“ your cut off by Ushijima pulling you towards him “I like like you” he says looking into your eyes “I already knew I liked you but between you ignoring me, me imagining you and I together, and Goshiki having a crush on you I realize that I want to at least try and be the boyfriend you deserve.” All his words coming at you like a wrecking ball. “You imagined us- GOSHIKI HAS A CRUSH ON ME” you yell in shock quieting down when you take in the entire situation “I don’t like that that’s the main detail you picked up on during my confession” and he pouts Ushijima Wakatoshi POUTS at you. Something you never thought you’d see, and it causes you to laugh insanely loud “What’s funny” he says in a sterner voice “Your just so cute” you say as you finally look him in his eye “Really” he questions “Really” you answer pecking him on the cheek “So are you my girlfriend” he questions with a slight pink tint to his face. “PFF, you made me wait almost a week and you think a slimy confession is gonna work” you tease which confuses the boy further as you make it to your doorstep you tell him to wait one minute. You come back outside with a freshly new ice pack “Maybe if you watch out next time, I’ll think about it” taking the old one and giving him the new one you pull him in one more time and put your lips on his. “Night hun” you say hurriedly getting inside ready to facetime Tendou and tell him all about it. Also planning to see the nurse and tell her. Ushijima on the other hand is still in shock. But he’s ready. And next time he’ll certainly watch out.

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Haven' posted in a while hope yall like it!!

Haikyuu Masterlist

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #ushijima angst #ushijima fluff #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima #ushijima x you #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 8 months

Text

Always an Angel, Never the God Pt 2

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Runaway!Reader

Words: 3119

After a few months alone in the sky, you find yourself with an unlikely roommate.

Tags: Gender neutral/intended Female, Runaway Reader, Angst, Unrequited love, Requited love, Heartbreak, grief

You grind your teeth, eyes watering as a heavy booted foot pushes you down further into the wooden ship floor. The ship rocks angrily as does your dragon, struggling against the barbed netting.

“Who are you? A new vigilante?” The leading trapper, Erik son of Erik or something, asked, bending down above you. He had, coincidentally, been the one to shoot you down.

“Where is your… hideout?” He leaned down into your ear at your silence, speaking in a raspy whisper. You got the vague impression he was trying to be intimidating, though the end results were more in favor of making you blush.

You were thankful for the hard wood covering your face and, therefore, your embarrassment. Of your belongings, you were only able to manage a mask and had taken to running around ensconced in furs with nothing but a dagger to your name.

You’d recon you looked much like a wild animal, straddling your nadder bare of a saddle. You had not done too well on your own. It was hard. You had always been a team player if by team player you meant a leech on society. At least, you had been told so.

So of course you had, unwittingly, stumbled onto dragon trapping territory. Extreme sport dragon trapping territory. It didn’t help that you and your nadder hadn’t been on the same page, you two being unable to sync in the way you’d seen the other riders with their dragons, which left a bitter taste in your mouth.

He’d go left when you were trying for right, and when you finally decided to just go with it, he would change his mind and throw you for a complete loop. It was safe to say that even if you got out of this mess you never wanted to step foot on his back again.

You breathed a silent sigh of relief just as the trapper let out an annoyed one, stepping off of you in favor of yelling at his men for damaging their goods. Meaning, your nadder. Was he really yours, though? He did try and make a break for it without you.

While debating whether or not you should try at the ropes shackling your arms together, you grunt frustratedly, noticing a new tear in your garb.

After running away and getting captured, you had not expected to be kidnapped again by some insane-looking madman in a mask. Though you did look like two of a kind, so it was fitting.

Your nadder had its wings torn irreparably, so, unfortunately, you had to retire him early.

You found small comfort in that it hadn’t abandoned you on the ship that one final time, though the irony that it had led you here was not lost on you.

He visited sometimes. He took to life in the sanctuary very well.

You didn’t, a borderline prisoner before you’d been able to win over the trust of the resident feral gorgon. Sort of. She was a woman who let you see her face, more on accident than anything else. You hadn’t let her see you or hear yours. However you weren’t inclined to speak of her nicely, least of all in your head, after the number of weeks you spent trapped in a cave at her behest.

Finally, you’d been let out. Let out enough to walk more than just the short stretch of stone and greenish ice that made up your prison. The endless turquoise was beginning to make you sick.

Recently, you found a real friend in the sanctuary, and this dragon, it was truly yours. Affectionately named, fed and groomed, you two were almost inseparable. It was the kind of friendship with a dragon you’d completely missed out on on Berk.

It was hard to maintain given your captive status, but that was alright.

There probably wasn’t any social profit involved in being a vigilante, which is why you assumed the crazy dragon lady had taken to speaking at you in her spare time. About the dragons, what they ate, what she had to do. Pointedly she gave away nothing of their true secrets, not that you wanted them, nor anything of her vigilant-ing. Not verbally, though the influx of injuries both on her and the dragons spoke volumes.

She did give away her name.

You groan, rubbing your eyes under your mask as you cradle the thing to your face with the other.

“You’re quite attached to your mask,” Valka said amusedly, shifting the logs roasting in the fire with a stick, pushing them back and forth as you sat in silence. You hardly ever spoke a word, nowadays.

Her dragon, the stormcutter, stared at you with large eyes through the licking flames.

Neither of you mentioned that the only real reason you’d been able to keep your mask so long was that she’d been kind enough to let you. An allowance you’d been given on a whim. One you clung to with all the nervous energy of Fishlegs to his dragon cards.

“... I’d rather not be,” You grumble, voice raspy from disuse, “It’s stuffy.”

“Oh,” Valka looked at you, amused and maybe a little surprised to hear you speak at last, before going back to tend to her fires, “I was starting to think you couldn’t speak.”

“Funny.” You said, lifting a sharpened stick off the ground, spearing it through a slimy, gutted fish from the basket beside you. Your nose wrinkled as you heard the sharp point break skin. No amount of faux stoicism could make it seem pleasant to you.

“I have a few questions,” You grimace under your mask as she asserts herself. She can ask them all she wants, but there’s no guarantee you’ll answer.

You might, probably, as keeping secrets hasn’t always been your strong suit. She’s certainly been trying to open you up for a while. You’ve not given her any leeway before though, no reason to give her any now.

“How did you tame your dragon?” She asked, pushing a particularly thick dragon searching for morsels. Valka guides its head gently away with her spare hand before any of the other dragons crowding around them get any ideas.

You wait for a moment, still wondering whether you should follow along. Eventually, you decide to answer.

“Wasn’t me. Someone else back home did it,” You huff, “I just followed along.”

“...But not very well,” Valka hums. It’s obvious she doesn’t believe you. Unfortunately for her, that is not your problem.

She pulls a small trout off her own stick, tossing it to a crowd of young dragons, who you knew had acquired a taste for the cooked, through no fault of your own.

You should feel offended, but you know she’s right. You lean away from a wandering dragon snout as it searches you for morsels. The stormcutter, after a look from Valka, shoos it away with a large wing.

“Where are you from?”

You feel the embers from the fire as they rise, the furs of your coat becoming nearly unbearable, your skin heated up rapidly. You wrinkle your brow with annoyance as you feel a drop of sweat slide down the side of your face.

“Where are you from?” You retort pointedly.

She studies you cautiously, as if she could glean your intentions from your body language. And she very well could. Or the heat was getting to you, the wells you’d spent in solitude had finally done some real damage to your psyche, and you were hallucinating.

“Berk,” She says. You sit back, surprised, “And you?”

“...None of your business.” You wonder how long it had been since she had left. You pray she would not know you.

Valka raised her eyebrow.

“I’m serious.” You ground your heel into the dirt. It was a touchy subject, still.

“Berk, too. …Stop looking at me like that.”

Valka leaned back against the ice wall where you rested, looking out over the empty ocean as dragons flooded to and fro the sanctuary. You squinted far into the distance, as if you thought you might be able to see through it if you tried hard enough.

Your hair tugged wildly by the winds out from behind your mask as you sat, one leg extended and the other bent as you leaned back against one arm.

You probably looked as you felt, weary and unkempt after a long flight over the seas with your dragon, who clambered among the icy spike-lined wall with clawed hands. You felt refreshed yet somehow at odds with yourself still.

You cared little for your bedraggled demeanor the same way you hadn’t cared for much at all in a while. It might have made a cool picture had you not slipped and fallen onto your face on the ice just a few minutes prior. Whether you had broken your nose or not on your mask had yet to be uncovered. All that mattered was that Valka hadn’t seen.

Dragons crowed. Through the cracks in the walls of the sanctuary, the wind would whistle through if it hit the right angle. Louder than anything else were the sounds of the waves crashing against rock.

But between you and Valka, it was silent. A contemplative silence, the kind of silence you shared with others after a long thought or a hard day’s work. That’s how you knew she was going to break it.

“Why did you leave?”

You are annoyed at the prospect but are no less expectant. After the moment passes, you are not surprised. However, it feels as if you are the one who should be asking.

“Why did I leave?” You ask, “Does it matter?”

A loose chunk of ice falls off the side of the sanctuary as a large titan scrambles violently down the side, chasing after a bright yellow baby. You spot a shape through the fog, distant and blurry enough to resemble a bird though there are no birds here. You pointedly do not think of your small hut, even less of green eyes, and tiny, fading freckles.

Valka tilted her head in your direction, reaching a hand out to scratch Cloudjumper under his chin as he lowered himself towards her, “It mattered to you.”

You open your mouth, but you are only able to choke on your breath. No one has ever said something like that to you, not in a long while. You don’t understand why it’s hitting you so hard. Maybe it’s the isolation.

You blame the burning of your eyes on the biting wind.

“Why did you leave?” You ask in return, once you’ve taken time for yourself, though you have an idea. You can’t keep your voice from sounding a little bit scratchy.

You unhook your dagger from your belt, trying not to seem so attentive. Instead, you take to carving random shapes into the ice. A gronkle. A nadder.

“I was taken.” She sighs, quieter now. Lost off in memory as you both often are.

The nadder’s spikes are much too long. The gronkle looks more like a sandwich than a dragon.

“Taken?” You prompt and you begin on the outline of a fury. The result is shallow and scratchy.

It’s one of your own designs, not the same as the one Berk uses. Astrid liked the other one better, not yours, so that was the one Hiccup went with.

“I didn’t leave,” She insisted, almost as if she was trying to convince herself of the fact, “I had a son, and a husband.”

You’ve seen her by the fires, while trying to sneak out of this hellish ice maze. She talks to herself then. On particularly paranoid days, she’s slept by you, in the same caverns, so you’ve heard it. She talks in her sleep and says things she would never say awake, or had you been around. It’s all so very unsettling.

“Really?” You remarked with false astonishment. The facade is flimsy, but you figured you’d give her the benefit of the doubt. The grace to assume that you’d no idea what she was on about.

With prompting, you might have seen it earlier. In her slim form, the one she kept hidden under thick furs and thicker armor. You squint. They have the same eye color. The same hair. They both have higher cheekbones, though her son more resembles his father in that aspect. That is all.

Valka shoots you a reprimanding look. Cloudjumper, now creeping down the wall behind you, taps you on the back of your head with its tail at her behest.

Valka was of the air. Though he had the same flighty tendencies, he was very grounded, like his father, though he might either be proud or loath to admit it. He loved flying, yes, but he loved inventing and processing and routine just as much, if not more.

He did when you were close. Of course he did, he spent his whole life on it. You couldn’t really say you knew him anymore.

You didn’t pin Valka as the type to enjoy the same in any sort of manner. But that suited you just as well. You found that as time went by and as you were granted more freedoms, you appreciated it. It made it easier for you to forget. To ignore.

In the end they, you and she, she and you, were one and the same.

“But what does it matter, if you never went back?” You grumble, pushing your dragon’s head away as it nudges you towards the cliff, crooning for more flying time.

You guessed that was why she clung so viciously to the safety of her sanctuary. Why she hated other people so much, why she’d had no faith in the humanity of other people, why she’d held you here so strictly. If things could have been different, then what did she give it all up for?

Though you’d never had something else. Not even the option. You’d never been given it. Valka hadn’t been given it either, but there was a sure difference between something being there and not.

The atmosphere is silent again, tainted with some darker undertones. If you’d had to put a name to it, you might have called it grief.

“I want to leave.”

Valka doesn’t look surprised at your request. And indeed, it’s been no secret that you wanted to leave. Maybe she was glad for it, or maybe she was sad at the news.

After all, you settled into each other's presence long ago. You had a good sort of companionship.

And from that companionship, you learned a lot without even trying, just by watching. Eventually she took notice and she took an active part in teaching you the truths she learned during all her years in self-imposed isolation.

You two weren’t incredibly close but you could tell Valka was grateful for the company, grateful to have someone maybe even a little bit like her, even if most of it was spent in silence.

You still left the Drago fighting for her. It wasn’t your fight, it was hers, and you made that clear.

Neither of you brought up Berk. Ever.

You were content to just come and go as you pleased, for a while. Nonetheless, despite your freedom, you felt restricted to the small world of the Sanctuary and the empty skies around it. There was no place for you on the ground or by the seas, where hunters and trappers swarmed by the thousands and Drago’s armies grew by the day.

You spent so much time learning from her and yet it felt like no time at all. Which was why you were shocked when you’d truly learned how much had come and gone in full.

You were out slinking in the shadows, seeking shelter from a storm on the same small rocky outcropping of island that had a shipful of trappers stranded, in a rage and a panic as they attempted to recover their assets. The winds had been too rough to fly, so you had no choice but to wait and listen.

You didn’t believe it at first. It had been…

Months.

You wondered if he’d been married, yet.

Years.

The idea hurt, not as much as you’d thought it would, still not as little as you’d hoped.

Under clear skies, you found an inn, untouched by everything except grass and trees.

You asked, “What day is it?”

The large man, a burly viking scrubbing down a wooden cup with a torn old rag, had looked down at you skeptically from behind a beaten pine and stone counter.

Two years. It had been nearly two years since you left Berk. Just as Valka’s attachments kept her at the Sanctuary, you needed to go. To run.

Since you had heard it, spoken it, the urge to run, to fly hadn’t abated at all, going from a wispy thought at the back of your mind to a full blown need. Your dragon too had become antsy, maybe feeding off of your nervous energy. Eager to take off, to fly new skies.

“Are you sure?” Valka asked searchingly. You two were stationed over a heavily planted cliff over a large main pool which consisted of the main cavern within the Sanctuary, once again in front of a fire, eating your own meals as the dragons below ate and exchanged fish.

You were already packed, your mask secured as it had been for all two years you had been in this place stuck between confinement and dwelling. You almost regretted it, not telling her your name, but you couldn’t bear yourself to her knowing who she was, not truly. Not until you’d washed yourself of that particular weight.

“Yes,” One day you would, if you ever saw her again. Once you were released from the heartache and pain of your own making, “I am. Thank you.”

You started out into the pale foggy sky, mounted your beast as smooth as you’d ever done, which is to say, not smooth at all. You’d only ever managed it right when Valka was watching, anyhow. It was odd how that worked, maybe the peer pressure was finally starting to kick in.

As you took off and the sanctuary became smaller and smaller both to your eyes and your mind, as the tight bundle of chains in your chest dropped and the world opened up to you once more, you felt light, and free.

Once again, there was no one to watch you and no one to hurt for besides your and your dragon. Endless opportunity. Thousands of ways to keep going.

You wondered what your face looked like.

You couldn’t wait to see it again.

#hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #how to train your dragon #httyd #x reader #fanfiction #httyd imagine #httyd fanficiton

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