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chlorinecake · 5 months

Note

What do you think the enha legal line would react if by chance or by accident the other members touch readers tits? The reader being their gf obviously

I got this idea from your recent gang bang post and I was like damn

For ex yn is hee's gf and by accident jake touches her tits , or if you wanna make it spicy remove the accident part and make it as sluty as you can

If you want ofcourse

By the way I'm new here , on your blog so hoping for more talks!

𐙚 Cherry Blossoms | 18+ EN- REACTIONS

cw: jealous!bf enha 🙈, implied intimacy (so like, no explicit smut scenes), kissing, swearing, boob fondling/nipple play, hickeys, mentions of drinking, dry humping (?), kinda silly honestly, 400-500 words per member

이희승 ♱ Lee Heeseung — Heeseung didn't worry about leaving you and Jake alone because he trusted him with everything. Though, your boyfriend had barely been gone for a minute before Jake's hands got lost under your top, fingers toying with the hem of your sports bra as he lowered his voice to a purr. “Heeseung only focuses on his own pleasure… I bet he's never even touched you like this before, has he?," Jake smirked, causing you to shiver as his thumb lightly grazed your nipple, “It’s kinda cute, actually.”

“W-what is,” you asked, squirming from his hands that only followed your movements. “How sensitive you are,” he teased, adjusting your shirt so he could have better access to your chest. “Do you think Heeseung would mind if I added a few marks with his?” He said in between lightly sucking your tits, the wet sounds of his tongue making heat rush to your cheeks.

“J-Jake, if Heeseung catches us like this, you’re dead,” you threatened, running a hand through Jake’s hair as part of you wanted to push him away though another part compelled you to pull him closer.

Beep, beep, beep. The microwave chimed, but your boyfriend was no longer in the kitchen, having come back to ask if you and Jake wanted a drink with the popcorn he just made.

“What the fuck are you doing?!,” Heeseung yelled, marching up to Jake and pulling his shoulder back.

“I think the answer's pretty obvious, Sherlock,” Jake grinned, watching the way you covered yourself before him despite his swollen lips telling clearly of the actions that already took place.

Heeseung shook his head before reaching for the remote and turning off the TV, “you can go now, Jake. Movie night is OVER.”

“Dude, chill, you’re acting like I fucked her,” Jake teased, getting up from the couch and walking to the front door, putting on his shoes before leaving you two alone. You stood up from the couch before Heeseung waved his finger, “Nuh uh, sit,” he ordered, plopping on the couch beside you and pulling you into his lap, cradling you.

You felt as his hands groped around your neck, gently squeezing before releasing the pressure, his eyes softening in the process. "H-Heeseung," you stuttered at the sudden warmth growing at your core, “aren’t you upset?”

“Upset? Just a little... maybe even a lot... but not with Jake," he whispered in a husk voice, cold hands tiptoeing down your back before grinding your hips against him, broken moans escaping your lips as the moment only escalated from there.

박종성 ♱ Park Jongseong — You and your boyfriend Jay had just gotten back from your 2-day long road trip together, filled with campfires, hiking, and romantic moments in the lake. You were honestly feeling a little tense after the trip, so Jay offered to help you out by massaging your shoulders.

Kissing you on the cheek, he sat you down in a gaming chair that he borrowed from one of the members in your shared bedroom. “Now, I want you to relax for me, okay?,” he whispered, gently closing your eyes with his fingertips, “I’ll be right back with the massage oil.”

You didn’t hear Jay’s footsteps leave the room but you heard when he came back, using his thumbs to dig circles into the tender area of your shoulder. Naturally, you let out a few lewd sounds from his actions, breath hitching in your chest as he wrapped his fingers around your neck, sliding down to grope your boobs. You hummed like a kitten at his touch, stroking his hands and throwing your head back in the process.

That’s when you heard a second pair of footsteps come in, a lot angrier than the first, followed by the sound of said oil clashing with the floor. You opened your eyes at the sound to realize it was none other than your boyfriend Jay, blood practically boiling at the sight of you with Sunoo’s hands cradling your chest. “Oh my God!” You yelped in shock, jumping from the chair to cover yourself. You almost couldn’t believe that it was Sunoo touching you the whole time, a phony expression of shock displayed on his face.

“You should go, Sunoo,” Jay said coldly, balling his fists.

“Oh- my apologies, Jay-hyung. Her boobs were just so soft, I didn’t even realize I was touching them,” Sunoo shrugged, not budging in his stance.

“What part don’t you understand about getting the fuck out of here?” Jay continued, grabbing Sunoo by the shoulder and leading him out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Jay-"

“I can’t believe you couldn’t recognize those weren’t my hands,” Jay shook his head playfully, pulling you closer before picking you up and laying you on the bed.

“My eyes were closed, Jay,” you giggled, feeling his hands knead your thighs as he left featherlight kisses all over your neck that soon escalated into much more passionate kisses.

“I can tell you’re still a little tense, though,” Jay whispered seductively, fingers ghosting over the center of your panties as he moved to play with your drawstring, releasing it with a sting. "Still need my help?"

Cupping his face in your hand, you kissed him on the lips this time, eyes already hazy from his simple touches as you nodded at his words.

To this day you both have no idea what compelled Sunoo to do that...

심재윤 ♱ Sim Jaeyun — Tonight was the night of Jake's big winter party, and you decided to wear something revealing to get his attention. Though, unfortunately, your boyfriend wasn't as impressed as you anticipated him to be.

You snuck off somewhere to get a drink while Jake continued to chat things up with his friends, just to get your mind off things. You didn’t expect to see Heeseung hanging around the bar, so you decided to cover your chest with the thin shawl you brought with you.

“Trouble in paradise?" Heeseung teased, passing you one of the red party cups.

"Is it really that obvious?," you frowned, filling your cup up with juice from the punch bowl that was definitely spiked.

"Hmm. Not really, but you never dress like this," Heeseung went on, shamelessly checking you out through his doe-eyes, "Maybe you should try this style more often."

"Yeah... maybe," you pouted, glancing at Jake from a distance. Sure, it was nice to have a boyfriend who didn’t only want you for your body, but naturally, you wanted to spice things up in your relationship.

“Pfft,” Heeseung scoffed, talking another sip from his drink before placing it down. “I mean, I respect that you have a boyfriend… kind of… but you're obviously not gonna get his attention on your own," he said, grabbing each end of your shawl before sliding it to your waist, pulling you closer to him, "I can fix that if you like."

You smacked his shoulder playfully, part of you actually considering his offer, “Get a grip, would ya? I think you’ve had too much to drink for the night,” you chuckled, feeling his hands snake around your hips.

“Have I ever told you how pretty your smile is?” he said, looking you in the eyes now, “it matches your tits perfectly,” he grinned, hand ghosting over your chest before he asked, “can I touch them?”

“You must be out of your mind,” Jake interrupted, startling the both of you as he pulled you into his side, “Baby, are you okay?”

“She’s fineee…” Heeseung answered for you, a satisfied expression plastered over his face as he walked away, leaving you two alone.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you sighed, squeezing his hand as you exhaled the tension building up within you, “I didn't mean for Heeseung to act that way... I just wanted your attentio-”

“And now you’ve got it,” he interrupted your words, pulling you into him by your lower back before kissing your lips, humming at the contact.

"Let's take this somewhere more private, yeah? Unless you can't wait any longer."

박성훈 ♱ Park Sunghoon — Your overly-protective boyfriend decided to take you to the gym with him after you almost got into a fight outside of the mall last week.

It was for a stupid reason, really.

You overheard some girls talking shit about you and upon calling them out for it, things got a little physical.

“You know I could’ve taken both of those girls on my own, right?” You tried reassuring him, not feeling up to join him at the gym today, “And besides, we haven’t hung out in forever. Can’t we just do something else for the day?”

Sunghoon chuckled at the pout you wore on your face, offering his hand to help you out of the car as he carried both your gym bags, “I just wanna show you a few things, and then we’ll hang out later, okay? I promise.”

Sulking all the way into the fitness building, you didn’t expect to see one of Sunghoon’s friends there, striking at a punching bag with all his might.

“Oh- Jay’s here!” Your boyfriend chirped, “He used to volunteer at a women’s self defense class. Maybe he can help us out today,” he continued, jogging over with your hand in his.

Taking out his headphones, Jay stuck out a hand out to greet both of you. “Hey, guys. Having a little gym date, huh?”

“Sort of. ____ almost got into a fight a last week, and I just wanna make sure she knows how to defend herself,” Sunghoon said, making you roll your eyes.

One reply led to another, and Jay offered to coach you for a bit, the two of you hopping in the boxing ring together with gloves and sweatbands on. Meanwhile, Sunghoon stood on the sidelines, occasionally taking pictures of you while he pretended to referee.

“C’mon, ____, you won’t hurt me,” Jay taunted, tiring you out as he dodged all of your attacks, “Punch like you mean it!”

Sunghoon was cheering you on, which made you feel confident enough to try something you saw in an action movie once. Running into Jay, you knocked him out of balance, landed on his lap as you prepared to jab him right in the face.

That was when you felt his hands cupping your chest as an attempt to push you away.

The sight was terrible, honestly, and looked a lot like a sex position. And unfortunately, Sunghoon got the whole thing on video.

Stepping into the ring, your boyfriend helped you get off of Jay, who immediately started apologizing.

“Bro, I’m really sorry about that, you know it wasn’t my intention to get that physical,” Jay rambled, face slightly turning pale in shock.

“It’s alright, man. But if it ever happens again, you can at least try and make it entertaining for me,” Sunghoon teased.

“THIS is how you properly touch a woman,” he smirked, showing off his fangs as leaned you against the rope cage, playing with your boobs like stress balls.

“Hoon, you CLOWN! That tickles,” you giggled uncontrollably, not even realizing how Jay was dying of laughter in the corner of it all.

김선우 ♱ Kim Sunoo — It randomly started to rain outside upon you and Sunoo already getting dressed for your picnic date together. Instead, you decided to stay home and play board games with each other, inviting Jungwon who was also stuck inside for the day to join you two. You three started off with a few games of Uno before Sunoo suggested a round of truth or dare.

“I choose truth,” Sunoo smiled, crossing his legs to sit. “Okay, okay,” Jungwon began, munching on a few pretzels from the snack bowl, “what’s your favorite thing about ____?”

A pink hue rushed to your boyfriends cheeks at the question, which made you and Jungwon laugh until Sunoo finally built up the courage to answer. “Well... to be honest with you, I’d have to say her tits.”

You couldn’t believe the words that just came from his mouth. Now it was your turn to feel embarrassed. “Sunooooo," you cringed, bringing your legs to your chest and burying your face in your knees.

“What? It’s true!" He continued, nudging your leg playfully, "It’s the only part of you that the boys never get to see. It’s only for me,” he smiled, making your heart beat a little faster.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in energy before suggesting a new game, “Hmmm... I say we play Twister now!”

The game started off easy, with you and Jungwon going first so Sunoo could spin the color board. One move led to another before Jungwon accidentally slipped on the plastic game mat, falling hands-first onto your boobs.

You let out a sound that easily could’ve been mistaken as a moan, but Jungwon just stayed there frozen, straddling you with his hands groping your chest.

“Uh-uhh, I-I’m… sorry,” Jungwon shrieked with embarrassment, finally backing away from you, but it was already too late.

Sunoo was pissed. “____, why didn’t you do something?!” “Like what?” “I... I don’t know, slap him in his stupid face for touching what isn’t his?”

“Sunoo-hyung, it was an acciden-”

“Be quiet, Jungwon!” your boyfriend spat coldly, getting up from the floor before marching up to his room. “Sunoo, wait!” You called out, following after him all the way to his bed where he laid on his back.

“You didn’t move fast enough, ____,” Sunoo mumbled under his breath, arms crossed over his stomach, “it made me think that you wanted it.”

You sat next to him, stroking his thigh as you spoke, “No, baby… I was just shocked," you admitted.

“That still doesn’t take back what happened, though,” he pouted as you reached under his shirt, tracing lazy shapes on his abs before inching your fingers closer to the hem of his pants, smiling at the way he shivered through it all.

“Let me make it up to you, then... I’m all yours, now.”

양정원 ♱ Yang Jungwon — Thanks to your period, you’d been feeling extra horny without Jungwon being able to please you like usual. So, Sunghoon invited himself to keep you company while Jungwon took a shower after his routine evening jog around your neighborhood. The two of you were casually making conversation about your period symptoms on the living room couch when you noticed how Sunghoon’s eyes kept falling to your chest.

“They're pretty swollen, huh?” He purred, groping your chest with his veiny yet delicate hands.

You unintentionally moaned at the feeling, your arms almost forgetting how to work as he applied more pressure, thoroughly amused by your reactions.

“S-Sunghoon, stop that!,” you whined as he laid you on your back, straddling your hips as he continued to massage your tits. “What, are they tender, too?” He asked mischievously, inching closer to your neck before grazing your skin with his fangs, “because I know how to be gentle."

All you could do was whine beneath him, feeling a little guilty about letting your hormones get the best of you.

That’s when Jungwon came out of the shower, steam roaming behind him as he shook the access water from his hair, making his way to the living room.

“Hey, babe, I ran you a bath while I was in there…” he stopped mid-sentence, feline eyes narrowing at the sight before him. Sunghoon didn’t seem to flinch in Jungwon’s presence, hands still resting on your body as he started to speak, “How was your shower, Jungwon?”

“Fine,” your boyfriend replied coldly, waking up to the couch before snatching you by the wrist, pulling you away from him, “Let's hurry, ____, before the water gets cold.”

As soon as you got into the bathroom, Jungwon locked the door, pining you against the wall, “What was that all about, hmm?” He asked, caging you with one arm as he slowly unbuttoned the flannel you wore.

His flannel.

“Since when do you like guys like Sunghoon-hyung?”

“I-I don't,” you nearly whispered, failing to look him in the eyes after what you let happen.

Jungwon’s cold hands grazed your waist as the flannel fell from your shoulders, your bra making a clicking sound after he unbuttoned it as well.

“So why’d you let him touch you the way I touch you? Be honest with me,” He urged with a sweet yet thick voice, almost like honey.

“Because... I... I wanted to feel good,” you admitted, a chuckle slipping from your boyfriends throat at your words before he pressed the softest kiss to your lips, whispering within the contact.

“Take off the rest or your clothes and get in the tub, silly.”

❀ Hi hi, anonie and wlcm to the blog !! Tysm for requesting this piece ~ Ik this ask was specifically for something a little more slutty, but I have another ask in my inbox that’s similar to this, so I’m saving the intense stuff for that one huhu !!

❀ Make sure to check out my enhypen bookshelf for more fun reads ~

❀ [Permanent] Taglist: @squoxle @ashgonedash @nikisdubblchococake @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33

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teabutmakeitazure · 10 months

Text

Dissimulation

>Yan! Mafia! Childe x Fem! Student! Reader (Modern au)

>Word Count: 11.6k words (slow burn)

>a/n: my offering for best boy's birthday

Warnings: coercion, Childe doesn’t know how to flirt, blood is finger licking good, panic attack

An unwelcome customer turned into an unwelcome acquaintance has been terrorising your life starting from your minimum wage job. Perhaps your flight back home is your only way out.

Continuation | reasons why Childe is #1 husband | Continued Again

Patience is a sign of virtue. Or at least that’s what your mother taught you when you were growing up. No, it’s all just some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them.

Regardless, you don’t say anything, tired already as it is and just wait for the month to be over so that you can get your pay and go back home.

Even if he seems to like you, you would rather not push your luck. Despite only being in this city as a student, you’ve picked up that it’s best not to engage with the local mafia members, even if they seem friendly. Just keep your head down and return the greeting if given one. If one of them comes to your shop, treat them as a regular patron, and if a fight breaks out somewhere with one of them, do not take sides. Simply leave as quietly as you can.

Unfortunately, you have no such choice or opportunity to keep contact to a minimum. That is why you opted to bide your time and sneak out as quickly as you can and never opt for minimum wage jobs again. Maybe you could get a paid internship next time. You’ll probably meet the course requirements.

The dreaded convenience store you are currently walking to is situated a ten minute walk away from your campus dorms. Having to stay there and beep items all day was its own form of punishment as it was, but with the crowd that had recently started to come in these last few months, it started to seem more like a form of purgatory.

You still remember the lecture your friend had given you on how to act normal around the mafia community. The fact that they recently got active in this neighbourhood is simply an added bonus. Honestly, you’ve been counting the days when your incarceration will end with your flight. You just want to go home and hug your cats first, family members second.

The bell chimes as you walk inside, and you sigh when you see the mess of ginger hair and a dangling red earring already waiting for you. At least this time his back is turned while he scrolls his phone even if he is sitting near the register.

About that, where’s the manager? He should be at the register right now since your shift just started.

“You’re late,” the dreaded man scrolling his phone points out, eyes not leaving the phone screen.

Keeping your friend’s advice in mind, you decide to reply before twisting the knob to the employee room. “Sorry. I was doing laundry.” A lie but you aren’t going to tell him that you got distracted watching cat videos.

No greetings were exchanged and he didn’t even look up at you. Strange, but it’s best to only reply when talked to. Getting too friendly might backfire.

Still, you decide to say something just for good measure.

“Is the manager in today?” you ask, eyes on him while your hand remains on the knob.

All you receive in response is a shrug.

Thus, you enter the employee room, and there you have it! Mister manager sits on the desk in all his white polo shirt glory.

The door hinges squeak loudly behind you when you close the door. Stepping to the desk, his head slowly rises to look at you when you greet him, but he doesn’t respond. After you’ve slipped on the employee uniform jacket and pinned your nametag, he speaks.

“I may have made a mistake.”

That causes you to frown. “What happened?”

“The guy outside… I… I didn’t realise he’s a high ranking member. I may have asked him to leave because he’s been here for half an hour already and… well…”

“Well, what?”

He shakes his head. “Well, he sort of jokingly said that the building belongs to his division and that the store could close if he wanted it to.”

“...”

“Look. I know you’re a student, so I promise I’ll pay you somehow, but please! He listens to you, right? Try to appease him!”

You groan. “I’m sure he meant it as a joke.”

“Please!”

“Alright alright. I’ll… try.”

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re going to do. He’s a higher ranking member, you know that much, but why he even bothers to be so friendly and chatty with you is out of your scope of understanding. At least now those tough looking ones that drop by in the evening don’t test your patience anymore.

Cautiously, you open the employees room door and head back outside. There’s still no one in the store, but you know that afternoon rush hour is about to start. With you on the register seat, the dreaded man who will stay with you on another shift turns his body to face you, phone immediately slipping into his pocket.

“So,” he drawls, “was the manager inside?”

You put your phone on the little shelf underneath the cash drawer. “Yes. He was inside.”

“Was he mad?”

“Um no.” You look at him questioningly, brow raising when he just smiles. “Should he be?”

“Who knows?”

“Right…”

Silence ensues and you briefly ask yourself why he’s less chatty today. You can’t believe that it’s concerning you. Sure, he’s a very dangerous person if he’s so young and in the mafia of all things, but dangerous people are downright terrifying if pissed. At least you’re not the one at fault. Besides, three more weeks and it will be time for your flight.

You just hope you make it.

“Something on your mind?”

He’s looking at you now, cheek resting in his palm. He’s even gotten closer, next to you to be precise. You don’t think you heard him get closer.

Nervously, you give a little laugh. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Dull blue eyes bore into yours, gently forcing you to answer truthfully. The lack of vitality in them unnerves you but that is precisely what compels you to answer.

“Well… the manager said that you might get the store to close…”

“That? I didn’t think he’d tell you. Anyway, I was messing around,” he smiles. “You’re a student, so it would be unfair to you to suffer in consequence to him.”

The statement doesn’t make you feel any better. “Ah, you’re too kind sir Tartaglia.”

Like before, the way you addressed him makes him frown. “Just call me Childe. Tartaglia is only for my men. Though… if you would prefer…” he leans in, hand that was previously holding his face now gripping the edge of the table as he whispers dangerously close to your ear, “I’d gladly tell you my birth name.”

He backed away again, a smile on his face. “And I know you wouldn’t tell anyone haha.”

How do you even reply to that?

Scratch that, should you even reply to that?

He’s looking at you again, that smile that doesn’t reach his eyes gracing his lips and impatience oozing from his face. You sense that he’s waiting for an answer so you try your best to comply.

“Understood... Childe.”

The name feels foreign on your tongue, and you blame the unfamiliarity on the nervousness that comes with being near him. Thankfully your answer seemed to appease him and he happily nodded.

Okay, one problem solved. You’ll get your minimum wage salary. Another problem. You’ll have to endure the awkwardness because you don’t have it in you to call him out.

As if on cue, your employer exits the employee room and heads for the exit without even looking at you. The fast walking didn’t make his exit any graceful, but it did make it seem important with how Childe eyed his movements.

Silence settles again as you blankly stare at the empty store in front of you. Regrettably, you’re a little worried about what might happen when you’ll be back after summer vacation. You never told him that you’re leaving for home and the white polo dunce of a manager has been sworn to secrecy about it after he flat out told Childe which institution you study at right in front of you.

Protecting your personal details is your job, so you’ve taken it into your own hands. It isn’t wise to tell a mafia member who obviously pines to be more than just acquaintances about your personal life and details. Thus, you will slip away to home on a weekend flight.

What happens after you’re back is something you didn’t consider.

Well, almost two months would have passed by then. Surely he wouldn’t care anymore… right?

You hope he doesn’t. Perhaps it would be best to avoid this neighbourhood. Maybe even look into school transfers to be safe.

“Something’s on your mind again.”

His voice cuts through the air like a dart and lodges into your head. Is it so wrong to simply want some peace? No wait. Peace is bad. If he's quiet then that’s bad. You’ll have to humour him.

Thus, you take a deep breath. Act normal, you tell yourself. You aren’t the criminal here. You’re a humble student trying to earn some money. Relax.

“Well,” you drawl, “I’m just spacing out.”

You don’t even look at him, eyes still fixed on the empty store.

“You must be thinking about something.”

Grumbling, you internally curse your luck. Patience is running out and you don’t know how long you can remain civil with him breathing down your neck like this. Maybe he had a bad day and that’s why he’s more inquisitive than chatty.

“Nothing,” you sigh. “I’m not thinking about anything. Just waiting for rush hour to start so that my shift can go by quickly and I can go home and sleep.”

“Hm.” He’s closer now, and you can see him in the corner of your eye. “So you’re tired of this job?”

“Tired of the people that come here actually. Most of them are so shady it’s unreal.” Now that that’s said, you hope he doesn’t realise that the jab is actually at him.

“I realise that. I saw what kind of crooks used to come here. They mostly thought they could intimidate the people working here, but all that’s in the past now.”

Well, you do owe him the credit of straightening them out. If it wasn’t for Childe, you’d still have to endure taunts from those weirdos about how they can take anything from the store and you can’t do anything about it. Regardless, you can’t be certain whether his presence is actually good or bad.

“Anyway,” he’s behind you now, hands suddenly on your shoulders, “you’re not from here, right? Any plans to visit home for the summer?”

Well… shit.

How do you go about this…

You never told him that you’re not from this city, so that can only mean that white shirt dunce did. Great.

“I’m not sure,” you reply. Would it be wise to ask him how much he knows? Childe does seem to be friendly in all the weeks you’ve known him. Ah. You’ll take that chance. Slowly turning around in your chair, his hands remove themselves from your shoulders when you face him. “Did my manager tell you anything?”

Now you’re looking into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem affected at all.

“I asked him about it. He told me that you might go home for the summer if you can afford the ticket.”

Okay so maybe the manager saved you a little there, but you still need to answer him. So, you settle with going with what he said.

Nodding, you look at Childe standing in front of you again. “I'm planning to decide by the end of this month. If I do go home, I'll put in a one week notice. Hopefully it isn't a problem."

He smiles. "Don't worry. It won't be."

You can't tell if he's comforting you or making notes to assist you. Either way, he doesn't know about your flight. Figuring out how to get him off your back when you come back for the next semester will be for when you're home.

"Anyway," Childe says, breaking the silence, "are you doing anything after your shift?"

Where did that come from?

Tilting your head a little, you act innocent in hopes he gets the hint. "Depends on what I'm asked. I do have some pending work. Why? Do you need me for something?"

"No. Just asking. What about tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure about tomorrow yet…"

Childe chuckles. "Then how about you make a reservation for the evening, with me?"

"W-why?"

"I just wanted to take you out for dinner. Is that alright?"

Did… did you just get asked out on a date?

Seeing your confusion, Childe chuckles again. “I promise I’m not going to kidnap you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll just take you out, treat you to dinner, and drop you home. No shady stuff.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, tongue teasingly peeking out.

You suppose there’s no way out of this, but still try nonetheless. “What if something important comes up? Would it be okay to… cancel…?”

His hands go back to his hips. “Important? What could be more important?”

“Um, my summer courses? I still get assignments for those…” You hope that doesn’t offend him, but judging from his face he looks more confused than angry.

Childe clicks his tongue, a scolding look on his face. “You can’t get an assignment with a same day submission date, so that’s out of the question. But hearing your response, it’s alright if you’d rather not go.” He sits back down, arms crossed. “I would prefer it if you'd be honest with me. Prevaricating with lies is more than just annoying, you know.”

In the silence of the store, you can feel your heart beating loudly in your ears, the thump a scolding sound for your stupidity. If he’s angry with you, who knows what could happen. “No! Not at all. That’s not what I meant.” Your patience is still being tested but at this very moment you’re more fearful. “I’m just worried because those courses are counted in my cumulative GPA, and I can’t afford to let it drop!”

“So you’re only worried about your grades?”

“Yes!”

“And you’re not opposed to getting dinner with me?”

“Yes! Wait…”

He smiles. “Go on~”

You narrow your eyes at him, fear all gone and annoyance taking its place. “I sense I’ve made a mistake here.”

The teasing smile turns into an encouraging one and with a sigh, you surrender. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

He gives a little celebratory ‘yes’ but you cut him short. “But I need to be back home by ten max.”

“Wait… your shift ends at seven…”

You cross your arms, finally getting back at him. “And what about it?” Seriously. Was he planning to hog your entire evening?

“That’s way too short!”

“I have a curfew placed on me by my mother back home. If I phone her any later than ten pm local time, she loses it. I would rather not be screamed at.”

“Alright. That’s fair.”

Now that that’s done, you still can’t believe you just agreed to a date with him.

However, Childe looks more than just ecstatic. He’s practically jumping in his seat, leg bouncing up and down and a wide smile on his face. When you raise a brow at that, he just smiles at you, practically oozing happiness.

He stays the same way, quiet and happy and fidgety as customers start to come in. As usual, he doesn’t say anything while you’re ringing them up and just stares. It’s when the rush dies down a little and only one guy is in the store that he speaks.

“Don’t you ever get tired of working so hard?”

You look at him from the corner of your eye. With his face in his palm, he’s staring directly at you. “I’m beeping items with a barcode scanner. I don’t see why it’s hard.”

“It is actually,” Childe says, firm in his statement. “I think you’re just used to the extra work so you don’t find it bothersome.”

“Maybe,” you shrug.

“Hm. You deserve better. Perhaps… someone who would take care of you, no questions asked. Someone… who would treat you as you deserve, cherish you, and make you happy.”

The way he speaks makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t let it show. Patience, you remind yourself. A few more weeks and you’ll be gone.

“There’s no need for others to look at you like this.” He sighs, “I hope that changes soon.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, so you’re grateful the guy who was browsing the drinks for the last five minutes finally came to the counter. You busy yourself with billing him, but Childe just… stares. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second.

Now, the regret of agreeing to dinner seeps in.

The customer leaves, and as soon as the door closes, you hear a phone buzzing. Before you even look at your phone, Childe has already pulled his out of his pocket and answers. He doesn’t give a response to whatever was said on the other side, brows furrowing as he cuts the call.

The chairlegs drag against the floor when he stands. “Sorry but I have to go.”

You don’t dare question the oddity despite your surprise to him leaving before your shift ends. “Alright.”

“I’ll pick you up outside your dorm. Is that okay?”

“Okay but what time-”

“I have your number. I’ll text you, don’t worry.”

With that, he’s out, leaving you confused inside the store. Considering the lack of smile and the fact that this is the first time he left before seven pm, it must have been something work related.

You just hope nothing advances after the dinner tomorrow.

He really does have your number. You don’t remember ever giving it to him, so you don’t dare question how he got his hands on it. At exactly 8: 06 pm he texted you that he would pick you up at 7: 30 pm outside your dorm tomorrow. That means that you would have around ten minutes to get ready.

Ten minutes are too much. You’re only going to change, maybe put on some lip gloss if you look too dead. No makeup and no accessories that could possibly make you look more attractive. Simple and plain is the goal.

Speaking of dinner, you’re going to have dinner with a mafioso. Perhaps you really should look into school transfers during the summer.

This sort of vicissitude was not welcome in the slightest, but you’ll have to work around it. If nothing else, you’re thankful that Childe is respectful of most basic boundaries and hasn’t attempted anything yet. Maybe if he wasn’t working where he was, you would’ve given him the time of day.

At 8: 19 pm, he texts you again. ‘Make sure to dress well :) I’d like to see you in a dress if you have any.’

Dress? Does he mean a fancy one? You send back a message asking for clarification, but he only replies with, ‘Anything casual and cute would work.’

Casual and cute… is he really bluntly asking you that?

7: 17 pm. You kick off your shoes and head inside, dashing straight to the bathroom to wash your face. You’re less tired than usual because of Childe’s absence at the store today, something that made the manager anxious, but you didn’t dare tell him about the date.

7: 23 pm. You change into the baby blue Gingham maxi dress you bought a week before finals. It flows just fine, and you grace the look only with pearl studs. Wallet and phone are shoved into the pockets of the dress, and to not look soulless, you apply some lip gloss. The gloss is also stuffed into your pocket in case you want to reapply it later, which you would rather not but you never know.

7: 28 pm. You set your hair again and slip on your sandals. One last look in the mirror and you give yourself a thumbs up. The look is something you would wear to a casual hangout with friends. Doesn’t look very try-hard or date-like. Perfect.

7: 30 pm. You open the door and head out. Pushing the elevator button, you check your phone for any messages while the elevator reaches your floor. Sudden nervousness makes you a little nauseous, but you breathe in slowly, telling yourself it’s no big deal.

The elevator door opens and as you step in, you collide with a very firm body. One look to the face of this body, and you’re frozen.

“Going somewhere?”

You nervously chuckle. “Childe. What’re you doing here?”

He ushers you both inside the elevator, pushing the ground floor button. “I’m here to pick you up? Did you forget about dinner?”

“Ah, no… it’s just… they don’t allow outsiders without a resident escorting them. I was going to wait in the lobby.”

“Really? The watchman let me in pretty easily.”

You don’t even want to know what that means.

“Anyway,” Childe says, voice louder than the gentle elevator music, “you look lovely.”

You glance at his maroon button down and roman silver dress pants, eyes resting on his earring. “Thanks. You look… fine as well.”

“Fine? I only look fine?” He’s leaning towards you now, and the elevator suddenly feels too small. Before you can be pressured into a reply, the doors open and you hastily step out into the lobby.

A chuckle comes from behind you, and soon you’re following him outside to a black car parked a little farther from the dorm entrance. With every step you take, you pray that no one left in your building for the summer catches you.

The car is unlocked with a beep, and though you’re a borderline broke student with no knowledge of expensive things because you can’t afford them so why bother, you can tell that the car is expensive. Or maybe it’s just polished to perfection, but it looks expensive.

Regardless, this is the hard part. Do you sit in the front seat or the back seat? The back seat would be rude but the front seat would be too straightforward. The front seat is too intimate and close but the back seat is too alienating. Shit. What do you do?

You leave your choice to luck and close your eyes, reaching for a door handle. Whichever you grab will be where you sit. Upon grabbing one, you open the door just to hear another one open as well. You open your eyes and a car speeds by at the same time.

Childe stands next to the open front seat door, a brow raised as he looks at you incredulously. You look at him, then to the door you just opened, then to him again. The door you opened is graced with your gaze once again before it’s Childe’s turn.

It’s silent, awkward, and you can’t shake the feeling that you messed up before the date even started.

“Would you… prefer the back seat?”

You blink at him, courage all gone when you reply. “Ah, no! It’s not that. I-I just wasn’t thinking. Sorry…”

Childe’s brow is still raised. “Okay. I’m not your driver. I’m your date. So, I’d like it if you sat in the front.”

Shit. Everything has gone to shit. You agreed to the dinner just to appease him and leave things on a good note instead of a sour one, yet you’ve already made things bad. Great job, [Name]. Aren’t you just wonderful?

Awkwardly, you close the door you opened and get in, allowing Childe to shut the door next to you before slipping into the driver’s seat. He starts the car, puts on his seatbelt, cracks his fingers, and folds his sleeves to the elbow before exiting the parking and going onto the road.

Your seatbelt feels uncomfortable in the heavy silence. Thoughts of what Childe might do if displeased swirl inside your mind but you frankly don’t know what. He seems to like you. He has never mistreated you besides being creepy a few times. Perhaps he’d forgive you. He always says your airheadedness is cute.

The pounding heart inside your chest gets more aggressive when Childe clears his throat, lips parting to give you another mini heart attack. “Aren’t you going to ask where we’re going?”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret.”

The pounding heart quiets down a little, confusion kicking away some of the anxiety. “Then it’s good I didn’t ask out of my own accord.”

A secret? What does he mean by that? Scratch that, is the location being a secret a good thing or a bad thing? Should you text your live location to someone? But all your friends are gone for the summer. That one girl you’re acquainted with on one of the upper floors might help if you disappear. At the very least, your jokes in the conversations you’ve had might at least let her sympathise enough to report your status to the police.

“Are you scared?”

Childe’s question makes you look at him, your heart going back to pounding crazily upon seeing his smile. “S-should I be?”

“No. You should never be scared when you’re with me.” His eyes are still on the road. “I realise you have a negative impression of me, but there’s no reason for you to be scared. Well, not you but others should be, but that’s besides the point.”

“Ah. I see.” No. You don’t see, but just go along.

“Mhm. That dress looks amazing on you.”

He takes a right turn at the green traffic light, and you briefly glance at his flexing arms as the steering wheel turns. “Thanks,” you reply. “The dress has pockets.”

As a demonstration, you pull out your phone and show it to him. Childe chuckles at that, calling it cute and you find your heartbeat growing tamer. The phone is shoved back inside and pleasant conversation fills the car on the way.

Childe asks about how university is, how your finals went, and how you’ve come to find the city. You answer the last question truthfully, hands fidgeting as you tell him about your reservations with the ‘law and order’ situation and how you’ve been begged to steer clear of the mafia. The statement is followed by a joke of you doing a horrible job at that, and Childe laughs, saying that you don’t have to be afraid of anyone in the city anymore.

The comforting sentence doesn’t comfort you at all.

The car stops in front of a restaurant and Childe opens the door to allow you to step out. Keys are given for valet parking, and Childe takes your hand as he leads you inside. Thankfully, it’s not as fancy as you thought. It’s not even as expensive, the kind of restaurant where you could arrange a fancy friend get-together.

The not so high end restaurant doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but sitting across Childe does. He apparently made a reservation for the rooftop, so here you are, wind gently blowing in your hair as he unbuttons another button of his shirt.

“Do you like it?” He’s looking at you now, eyes briefly going to your phone when you place it on the table.

“It’s… nice.”

“I didn’t choose somewhere any fancier because I figured you might get uncomfortable. Next time though.”

Next time? Good God what is he planning?

Your face may have given it away because he's tilting his head at you, earring dangling in tandem as he acts coy. "Is something wrong? Do you not like the idea?"

"N-no. That's not it…"

"Hm?"

You gulp. "Ah it was just a little sudden. That's all."

"I'm glad." He's back to smiling now, face resting on his palm. "I'll make sure to treat you like how you should be next time."

Again, next time? Not happening.

Childe grabs the menu, requesting that you let him order for you both. He says something about the taste of home and this restaurant being the only one able to recreate that, but you don't bother. You simply brush him off, telling him he can go ahead.

It's when a few minutes have passed since ordering that he speaks again. Luckily, the clanking of plates and chatter helps tone down your nervousness.

"I come here whenever I miss home. This restaurant actually originated from my homeland, so I thought I'd bring you here. It's not high end as well, so that's an added bonus."

You nod. "Interesting."

Elbow on the table, he rests his chin on the back of his hand, blue eyes studying you carefully. The observant gaze makes you feel small, and you end up clearing your throat when his gaze drops to your collarbone.

You look him in the eye as you speak. "It's a little awkward, isn't it?"

He tilts his head like earlier again. "What is?"

"The silence."

"Ah. Sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You look stunning."

Unlike the previous times, the compliment makes your cheeks heat up. It's probably because this time he's looking right at you with the faint hint of red on his cheekbones. Seriously. He's so human. You wonder how he ended up being in the mafia.

Childe doesn't allow silence to settle again, chatting away about his homeland and how he misses the snow. He says it's easier to go outside in this city's climate, but the memories and people back home make living there worth it. During his rambling, you simply nod along, only adding in a comment wherever you deem necessary.

Patience, you tell yourself. This'll pass. At least you're fortunate in the sense that Childe is accommodating and nice.

He continues rambling, telling you about his younger siblings. Fulgent expression and energetic voice, you lean forward to give him your attention, content that he's making good conversation. As you listen to him, your fingers start fidgeting with the cutlery set in front of you.

Your eyes remain on him as he recounts a story where his youngest brother Teucer refused to acknowledge his sister Tonia after she got a haircut. Hearing about the young child's inability to recognise his sister makes you chuckle which in turn makes Childe pause to look at you with widened eyes.

A smile stretches on his lips, and you trace the edges of the knife when he resumes.

"Mama was pretty concerned about that. It took Teucer a few days to accept that his sister looks different now. Ah. I miss them. They're a lively bunch and I miss being with them."

Your thumb runs up and down the edge of the knife while it's clutched in your hand, face resting in the palm of your free hand. "You can visit them if you miss them that much."

Childe gently shakes his head, hair swaying with the movement. "It's not possible at the moment." At your confused expression, he clarifies, "I can't tell you why. It's confidential information."

"That's fair."

"But I am glad I still get to be here. I got to meet you, after all."

"Oh. That's… nice."

"Mhm." He's leaning towards you as well now, both arms resting on the table. "Any development in your plan to visit home? You should go. If you're having any problems with the plane ticket or something then-"

"Ouch!"

The knife drops from your hand, clattering dully on the table. Blood oozes from the pad of your thumb as your hands shake from the startle. It doesn't take Childe even a second to be on his guard.

"You cut your thumb?" He gets up, drags his chair beside you and sits, knees brushing against yours. "You were fidgeting with the knife… well, no matter."

Instead of grabbing a tissue, he takes a hold of your hand and stares at the bleeding cut. More blood oozes out of it the longer he stares and one drop even reaches your palm. However, that isn't what's bothering you. It's the fact that he just licked that blood trail.

He licked it. And now he's sucking on where the cut should be.

The feeling of his tongue is what brings you back to your senses, confusion and panic overtaking your senses and overwhelming you. Pulling your hand away does nothing because his grip is too strong. Goodness, at least the few tables around you are empty and no one else seems to be looking.

"Childe."

He doesn't let go, pressing your thumb down against his tongue instead.

"Childe. Let go-"

A trail of saliva joins your thumb and his mouth. The two of you make eye contact and you notice a slight blush on his face. Childe then manoeuvres your hand, his lips on your palm as he tenderly kisses the skin messily.

The action gives you goosebumps but you remain quiet, still confused about what's going on. It's when he finally lets go and presses a tissue to the cut that he speaks.

"Be careful."

You remain frozen, hand in his while the tissue remains pressed over your thumb. You can no longer hear the faint background chatter or feel the gentle breeze in your hair. In your senses are dull blue eyes, freckles dusted across cheekbones and nose, and warm breath fanning over your ear when he leans in.

Childe's voice is a whisper, the edges of his hair tickling your cheek as the chair quietly croaks. "You shouldn't be playing with dangerous things."

He leans back again. With a smile, Childe gets up, drags his chair back to where it was, and seats himself. The air surrounding you both is casual, light, like something completely out of the blue didn't occur. This gives you the hint that it's best to not talk about it.

Elbows on the table, both his palms hold his face as he looks at you with a smile. The skin under his eyes crinkles slightly, freckled cheeks squished, and long auburn eyelashes framing the deep blues. You sit there puzzled and feeling slightly violated while Childe continues staring.

It's honestly a little funny.

Right when you concluded that Childe was nice, he does something completely uncalled for. You remove the tissue that was pressed to your thumb, pleased to see that your blood cells have done their job and the platelets coagulated. It'll probably turn into a scab by the time you get home.

Dammit, now you're nervous all over again. Curse you mass of neurons floating in cerebral fluid! Be useful! Sure, he just sucked on your thumb, but keep it together.

When you look at him again, he's still staring. With a sigh, you ask him about his job, what kind of work he does, but Childe only shakes his head, refusing to answer.

His excuse smoothly exits via soft, pink lips. You didn't know you were looking at them until you heard him speak.

"I don't think you'd enjoy hearing about my job. Plus, it's all confidential."

You will yourself to look back into his eyes no matter how difficult eye contact may seem. "Shady? Is that what you're implying?"

"Hm." He hums. "Let's just leave it at that."

So he admits it? Great. You can't wait for the evening to be over. The bag of chips sitting at home sounds very comforting and appetising right now.

When he continues talking again, you start fidgeting with the edges of your sleeves under the table. You need a distraction. Using your phone would be rude, so you figure abusing the fabric of your sleeves is a better option. It takes a little while for your food to be here, but when it is, you compliment his order and ask him about his choice.

The question serves to keep the conversation easy and light while allowing you to only answer, not speak. This in turn allows nothing uncomfortable to occur during dinner. It’s thankfully uneventful until it's time to pay.

You had no qualms about paying for yourself, but being Childe, he told you he’d take care of it. You had no problem with that either. What you did have a problem with was what he said.

“Let me treat my girl.”

My girl. That’s what he called you. If that’s not a red flag, you don’t know what is. Despite that, you suck it in and let him take you home. Patience. You’ll leave soon and never show your face in his active districts again. Maybe you’ll even transfer schools if you’re lucky.

You’re really hoping you can transfer. He might come find you himself after you come back from summer break. Even with all those troublesome thoughts in mind, you act as casual as you could while sitting in his car as he drives you home. Conversation was nice, the thumb incident was borderline violating, but the meal was tasty.

The car stops near your dorm’s entrance, but before you could make any move to exit the car - hand hovering over the handle - Childe locks the doors. You turn to look at him but he’s already looking at you.

“I need to ask you something,” he says, voice unsure and eyes not meeting yours.

Tentatively nodding, you signal him to continue.

“Did you… enjoy yourself?”

“Huh?” You scold yourself mentally for the confused expression. Clearing your throat, you compose yourself. “Yeah. As far as enjoying dinner goes.”

His eyes finally meet yours, and the eye contact is intense. “I take it that you’d like to do this again?”

“...”

“I don’t mean immediately but maybe sometime in the future?”

Sighing, you slump in your seat. “I can’t be sure.” It’s better to make things clear and not lead him on, even if it’s harsh. “I’m not… looking for something right now. It would be unfair to say yes to you when I don’t mean it.”

Childe’s grip on the edge of his seat tightens, the leather squeaking as it gets abused. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t like me, right?”

“Um, yeah.” You can’t pull your eyes away from his. “You’re… nice.”

He blinks. “I’m nice?”

“Yes.”

Childe’s mouth opens in disbelief before he goes back to his senses with a shake of his head. He leans towards you, hand grabbing the back of your seat and eyes widened. “So that means I have a chance?”

“Well,” you laugh awkwardly, “I never said you didn’t. I just said that-”

“I know I know. You’re not looking for something right now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t change your mind later. I’m not going to do something weird, don’t worry. I just… won’t give up.” He’s smiling as he speaks, happy at the prospect of not being rejected. “I’ll keep trying!”

Honestly, the determination he has is cute but it’s almost 10 pm. “That’s great and all, but could you unlock the door? I really need to go.”

“Oh, of course.” The doors unlock with a soft click and Childe bids you goodbye with another concerning statement. “I’ll make sure you change your mind. It’s a promise.”

The chips in your room lived to see another day.

The events of last night’s dinner keep replaying in your mind. It’s like a curse, the moment when Childe grabbed your wrist and gently shoved your thumb inside his mouth. Even with the bandage over it, you can still feel the ghost of his tongue, wet and warm, licking it.

You stop in your tracks to shiver.

It’s infuriating how even on your way to your shift you can only think of him and how he promised to change your mind. So much for leaving without any trouble. Can’t he take a hint? Maybe he’s too dense. It does seem characteristic of him.

The bell chimes when you open the door and head inside. A few customers are browsing the store, one middle aged woman and two office workers to be precise, while the manager sits by the cash register. His white polo shirt greets you before he does and by the time you come back from the employee room changed into your uniform jacket and nametag, the customers are gone.

Beloved and totally not airheaded manager moves away from the register, handing you a little list of work to do and announces that he’s leaving to meet up with someone.

Not even ten minutes of him being gone and the dreaded blue eyed mafioso walks in.

The bell chimes to signal his arrival, and unfortunately you meet his eyes as he stands at the entrance. He’s dressed too casually today, a white T-shirt with some band name on it, blue jeans and white sneakers. If you weren’t aware of his lifestyle, you would’ve thought that he was just another young adult on the street.

“Hi!”

You return his greeting with a simple nod, and he comes in. The only sound is his footsteps till he stops on the other side of the register. You meet his dead eyes again, regret instantly seeping into your bones. Childe’s gaze is affectionate, soft. Being on the receiving end of such a look is overwhelmingly foreign and uncomfortable.

The freckles dusted across his cheekbones and nose catch your attention, but they fail to be graced with your eyes for long. You immediately look away when you realise you started to stare.

Regardless, Childe acts as though he didn’t notice and rounds the register to sit on the chair next to you like always. He doesn’t speak of the date. Typical conversation plays out, much to your surprise, and you mentally curse yourself for expecting him to bring up yesterday evening.

However, it’s not his casual physiognomy that bothers you. It’s his friendliness and the fact that he has started messaging you like one would a friend. Just yesterday he had texted you for the first time in his life and now he’s spamming you funny videos and memes?

Should… should you be worried?

It might prove to be more difficult to shrug him off. You didn’t want to be harsh and outright reject him for him after how he had seemingly tried to be kind and took you out for dinner, but now it seems like that would have been the correct course of action. It’s not that you’re rejecting him solely on the basis of being a part of the mafia. It’s simply your desire to not be in a relationship right now.

Perhaps he’ll respect your wishes like he did last night, even if he did claim that he will keep trying.

You should not push your luck. Really. You shouldn’t. You shan’t do so.

First, you leave his meme spams on read. Then, you have the gall to address him as ‘sir Tartaglia’ again by mistake. The instant fall of his smile had sent a shiver down your spine and reminded you of why you told yourself to be careful. Just because he likes you doesn’t mean you’re safe.

Maybe you are, but that change of expression has creeped you out to no end. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

It has been two weeks since the dinner and Childe has settled with chatting with you over text during the late night hours. Tonight, however, you’ve put your phone away in favour of watching something on your laptop. The screen illuminates your face in the darkness of your room, and your phone’s buzzing briefly catches your attention.

You ignore it, obviously. You’re leaving in one week. This little ‘friendship’ or whatever one could call it is pointless. You’ve already planned on blocking Childe on all the socials he’s invaded as soon as you reach home, a step towards never seeing him again. The less you let him get attached, the easier it’ll be for him to forget you and move on.

Childe is… a little annoyed. You didn’t reply to any of his texts for a few days, leaving it on read since he sends some random videos after the texts. He let it slide at first, but now he’s bothered. It’s evident in the way he isn’t smiling or even talking to you for that matter.

Not wanting to end up on his bad side permanently, you capitulate your ego. “Childe? Is something wrong?” You’re restocking the potato chips as you speak, head peeking over the short aisle to look at him while he sits at the register. “You seem off.”

He makes eye contact with a face devoid of any emotion as if that were the most natural thing to do in the situation. “Why do you ask?”

“I just said so. You seem off.”

“It’s nothing.” Childe looks away, opting to stare at his shoes. He’s wearing casual clothes today as well, something you noted he started doing more often after the date.

Seeing that he won’t budge, you go back to restocking but perk up again when you hear him speak, albeit very softly.

“You’re ignoring me,” he mumbles to himself.

So, you do what comes to mind. Leaving the chip packets on the floor of the empty store, you walk up to him, hands on your hips. “I’m ignoring you?”

He doesn’t look at you, his shoes the most interesting sight in the world. “Yeah.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You don’t talk to me. It’s always me who initiates the conversation.” He looks up, making eye contact. “Is it because I’m in the mafia and you don’t want anything to do with me?”

The subtle accusation makes you defensive immediately, and you stammer. “N-not at all-”

“It is, isn’t it?” The earring hanging from his ear briefly catches your attention when he tilts his head. “That’s why you lied and said that you weren’t looking for a relationship right now.”

“But I’m really not.”

“Relationships aren’t ‘looked for’. They just happen.” Childe leans back in his seat, making you grow more nervous. “And you don’t want one to happen with me just because of where I work.”

Your hands start fidgeting with each other on their own, tongue pushing against your mouth’s hard palate. It takes strength to reply to his imputation. “That’s not true…” Heart beating wildly in your chest, you push the words out. “It’s just… I don’t want a relationship right now.” Think brain, think! “It’s not you, it’s me.” Curse you mass of neurons and amygdala for thinking of this ginger as a serious threat. “So please, don’t think of reasons that aren’t true.”

“But they are true,” he states, like he’s telling you that the moon also exerts gravity on the earth, voice boring and flat. “You just refuse to admit it because you’re scared of me.” Childe’s eyes bore into yours again, seeing through your casual lies and crafted confidence.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You can’t fool me, [Name]. I’d prefer you to be truthful. Lies just get on my nerves.”

You gulp. There’s no way out of this now. “Sorry…”

“It’s alright. Just keep that in mind for next time.”

“...”

“How can I change your mind?”

“What?” You blink at him, not understanding what he’s asking you. “What do you mean?”

“How can I change your fear of me into attraction? I don’t like knowing that you’re afraid of me.” Childe’s expression turns into a pleading one. Genuine helplessness is written all over his physiognomy which in turn makes you uncomfortable. You feel small under his watchful gaze. It’s as though he’s watching every single movement and breath you take.

“I… don’t know…” Your hands hang by your sides as you stand in front of him, lips pressed into a thin line.

Voice gentle, he tries to persuade you once again. “Please. Tell me how to win your heart.”

“I… I don’t know.” There’s a pitiful helplessness in your voice now, and you don’t know what makes you want to tell him what you are about to. But you do. And you have to watch the realisation appear on his face. “I never wanted your attention.” Admitting that somehow leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “I never wanted anyone’s attention. All I am is a student trying to make ends meet while cussing out the degree I chose for myself.”

Eyes wide, Childe tries negotiating. “I could make your life better.” Hands slam the desk in front of him as he stands, barcode scanner jumping and falling back with a thunk. “I just need one chance. That’s all I need.”

“I’m sorry, Childe, but-”

“No no. I’m not asking. You don’t have to give me one.”

You look into the lifeless blues of his eyes as he continues. “I’ll take that chance whenever I get the opportunity. You don’t have to worry your pretty head over it.”

Somehow his decision to take matters into his own hands unnerves you more than his blatant signs of attraction. It didn’t help that he wordlessly left the store after that.

Today is your last shift before you leave for home. Oddly enough, Childe didn’t swing by the store ever since he left the other day, and he isn’t here right now as well. It makes you uneasy. Something’s wrong. You can feel it in your gut.

He hadn’t even contacted you or sent any cat videos or memes, and being the coward that you are, you left things as they were. Hope that you won’t see him again keeps you going and stops you from poking at the obvious issue lest it bites you back.

But… you feel a little guilty. Even now as you stare at the floor on the other side of the cash register, you can’t help but recall how Childe tried his best to keep conversation flowing during dinner despite getting a very rude lack of input from your side. He’s been trying, and you’re the one not giving him the time of day.

Nonetheless, relationships aren’t built on pity. You hope he finds someone else, someone more suited for him. That’s the only wish you have for him even if the moral ramifications are eating you up on the inside.

Still, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the question of what he meant by taking the chance when the opportunity presents itself. Does he somehow know about your flight? Well, if he did, he wouldn’t have disappeared. Best to end things on a good note rather than a bad one and stay in contact. But what if he doesn’t care anymore?

Though that outcome is the welcomed one, it still stings to think that. Someone losing interest in you isn’t exactly something that makes you feel good. Regardless, it’s welcome in this situation. You were never in favour of his attention being on you and you never will be.

At 7: 08 pm, the bell at the door chimes in goodbye as you step out. The evening rush hour greets you, and you go with the flow of the people rushing home after a long day or work. Well, it’s the weekend tomorrow. At least they have something to look forward to.

The building of your current residence comes into view and relief washes all over you. Just a bit more and you can get into bed. There’s still a few more hours till you leave, and all your luggage is packed. All you need to do is take a nap.

You practically skip to the entrance, the cool air of the lobby’s air conditioning hitting your face. No one is inside and you hurriedly make way to the elevator.

The nap you took felt like an entire night of rest. With a stretch, you jump out of bed to gather the rest of your things. It’s when you’re locking the door to your room when you realise just how quiet it is. Your apprehension is understandable, if not relatable. You’ve never exited your room after coming back home for the day, so you have no idea what the building is like after a certain hour.

Dragging your suitcase with one hand, hand carry with the other, you haul them both and yourself - the backpack on your shoulders being an honourable mention - inside the elevator. The air is uncharacteristically cool and dry, something elevator music fails to get your mind off of.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it in favour of dragging your luggage outside the elevator and into the lobby. Who would be calling this late? Probably your mother. The video call would cut when you step out and the Wifi disconnects, so it doesn’t matter. Key left at the receptionist’s desk, you mentally thank yourself for checking out online in the evening but pray that the key is still here by morning.

Hesitation wins and you end up leaving it next to the pen holder. You were told to drop it off at the desk. It’s not your fault it’s unattended.

The bus stop is a five minute walk away, so with a deep breath, you step out of the lobby and to the outside, allowing the night’s cool breeze to caress your face as your luggage stays grasped in either hand. Your eyes land on the empty road, praying that you don’t get creeped out by the lack of people.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a step forward, then another, and another, till you’re a few metres away from the building’s entrance. The breeze is still blowing and the air is cool so you won’t be hot during your wait at the sto-

“[Name]?”

The breeze stops blowing.

“Where are you going at this hour? And… why… is your luggage with you?”

Your breathing is the next to stop, though only momentarily.

Almost on instinct, you let go of everything in your hands and reach for the phone in your pocket. You don’t even bother looking at the source of the voice, eyes glued to ‘Childe’ glowing on your screen as the contact of the missed call. Heart hammering in your chest, you slowly turn to look at him.

Regret and fear seep into your bones at the same time. He’s wearing something similar to what he usually did in the beginning, garnet dress shirt and dark grey dress pants. The gloves on his hands cover his palms but leave the majority of the back of his hands exposed, phone held in the leather grip.

What your eyes focus on first, however, is the earring. It catches the light from the lobby behind him like a beacon, but you’re quick to look away and into the blue irises of his empty gaze.

There’s no time for you to question why you didn’t hear him before he spoke up.

“Are you leaving?” He takes a step forward, phone slipping inside his pocket, and you take a step back. The reaction is all he needs from you to raise his hands in surrender, only coming closer when the wary look on your face softens into something more observant.

“Are you going back home?” Childe stands only one step away when he asks that and tilts his head waiting for an answer. He receives one in the form of a nod, and questions further. “When’s your flight?”

“Half past 3 am,” is your reply.

“So you have a little less than four hours,” he points out. “I actually came here to talk to you. I uh… I missed you and couldn’t help it. If I knew you were leaving, I would have come sooner.”

You’re still watching him attentively, the clothing he’s wearing sufficient to ring alarm bells in your head. “So you wanted to talk?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” you bite your lip, “I guess I’m not running late. The bus will be here in fifteen minutes anyway, so I have time to spare.”

“Perfect!” He grabs both of your luggages and drags them in the opposite direction of your intended destination: the bus stop. It takes a stern question from you for him to stop and look at you with that empty gaze again. “I’m just taking you to my car. I’ll drop you off. There’s no need to bother yourself with the bus.”

Any demurrance from your side is promptly shut down and smoothed over with reassurances that he’d get you to the airport safe and sound. As your packed belongings sit next to the car, Childe eases the backpack off your shoulder and leaves it on top of them.

It’s when he looks at you that the anxiety skyrockets, eating away your consciousness. Alone with Childe, a highly ranked member of the mafia, at near midnight with all your belongings and an assurance to be dropped off the airport safe and sound is an obvious problem.

You should have listened to the uneasy feeling in your gut back in the store.

“So,” he drawls, standing a foot away from you with his hands in his pockets, “I know I was brash and that I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable and also should have apologised to you later, but I won’t.”

That causes you to perk up, anxiety dying down a little. “You… won’t?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I won’t. It’s because I’m not going back on my words. I know you don’t view me as a potential partner, let alone friend, but that isn’t going to stop me.”

You don’t like where this is going.

Childe continues, eyes still boring into yours. “I don’t understand why you’re afraid of me. I’ve told and showed you countless times that I’m not going to do anything. It’s pointless to waste your energy. All I want is to exclusively be yours and call you mine. Why would I ever do anything to you if that’s what I wish for?”

The sir suddenly feels too suffocating, like not enough oxygen is filling your lungs. There’s a subtle darkness in your vision, one you deal with by walking to and leaning on the parked car, not that it helps. Not with the deeper breaths you’ve started taking. It doesn’t take any more indications for Childe to rush to your side, an unwelcome hand gently stroking your back.

The breeze flows again, caressing your face and blowing through your hair, but you’re still sweating.

You don’t know what happens next, just that you’re inside the car, the AC turned on, a light shining over your head, and a hand still running up and down your back while you take mouthfuls of breaths. They’re quicker now, you note, and a hand - your own hand - rises to cover your mouth as your sight and self-awareness is restored.

The confusion and vulnerability hits you like a truck and the tears simply fall harder.

Each and every time the hand moves over your back, you feel like more of your skin was peeled off, goosebumps still littering over your arms. It takes several minutes for you to somewhat calm down and become cognizant of your emotions and actions. It doesn’t come as a surprise when the first thing you decide to do in that state is cry harder.

What are you crying for? You don’t know. It’s hard enough as it is to just continue breathing. Processing your emotions is for later.

A hand, a foreign one, gently lifts your face, allowing the dashboard to come into view, and turns it to the source. Childe’s blurry image greets you as your chest heaves, warm thumbs swiping away the tears rapidly running down your cheeks. You don’t have time to dwell on where his gloves disappeared to, focusing on the feeling of his warm thumbs feeling cool over your tear stricken face.

Several minutes pass again, and you sit with your face in your hands while Childe puts your luggage inside the car trunk. Reddened, swollen eyes meet his blue ones in the silence of the car, your sniffling being the only sound. Whatever you just experienced was horrible. Had Childe not been… no. He is part of the cause. Him helping you through it is the least he could have done.

The driver’s seat is quickly occupied once again, and Childe breaks the silence, concern present all over his face. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod, too uncertain in your ability to speak. His question of whether or not you want some water is met with a shake of your head, and Childe settles with pressing his lips into a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think it would upset you that much.”

Voice slightly raspy, you reply after clearing your throat. “It’s alright. I… I didn’t see it coming as well.”

He slumps into his seat, head turned to look at you. Childe’s eyes glaze over your body, looking for potential signs of fear. It seems to him that you’re dazed, confused. It’s advantageous for him, if not relieving. Seeing you afraid or in pain doesn’t elicit any positive feelings.

After receiving your permission, Childe puts on his seatbelt - all the while making sure you fasten yours as well - and reverses the car, intending to drive you to the airport. You’re a bit late compared to what you originally planned, but you suppose he can get you there on time.

The car is eerily quiet with the lack of music. There’s no gentle humming from Childe, only the sound of either of you breathing. Unfortunately for you, the silence fails to last.

“So when are you coming back?” Childe’s voice is calm, flat. He’s completely casual in his question despite your concern that he wouldn’t take kindly to being lied to about such a thing.

“It’s one way,” you lie. Not being held accountable for your verbal deceit helps you gain some confidence. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll be back for class obviously.”

The car is silent again for a while and it fills you with hope for a quiet ride, one where you would get off, thank Childe profusely, and head home never to see him again. Alas hope is crushed, and you freeze in your seat, muscles tensing when Childe speaks again.

“How much more are you going to lie?”

Childe continues driving, acting unaffected with his demeanour and tone, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know that him gripping the steering wheel in a bone crushing grip is anything but him being casual.

No. He’s certainly upset, and you’re afraid you’re too much at his mercy.

“I gave you another chance and you ruined it.” Childe’s fingers tap rhythmically on the steering wheel, voice even as he speaks. “Why don’t we try again? When’re you coming back?”

You bite your tongue when you feel the initial signs of panic bubbling up your throat. It takes a bit of force to make yourself speak, even if it’s in a more fearful way. “Seven weeks. I’ll be home for seven weeks.”

“You’re not going to block me on your socials when you get there, are you?”

With a shake of your head, you continue looking out the window. “No.”

He hums, satisfied at your cooperation. “Good.” The car takes a turn, the empty roads seemingly omnipresent. “I’m not going to do anything. I just wanted to know the truth… er, more like hear it directly from you.”

A few minutes of silence pass, but it doesn’t last because you can’t stay quiet for longer. “You’re going the wrong way.”

“I am?” The smile in his voice is evident.

“Yes, you are.” You turn to look at him, nervously gulping at his grin. “Stop messing around.”

He doesn’t reply.

“Childe!”

Your panic fails to affect him in any way. With the fuzziness growing in your mind, there’s not much you can do except grab onto his sleeve. That causes him to look at you, even if just for a moment, but that’s all you get for a reaction. As a last resort, you reach for your phone in your pocket but freeze when you don’t feel the device.

You don’t need to say anything for Childe to provide the answer to your question. “Your phone isn’t there. It’s with me, I’m afraid.”

“Childe,” you say, voice low and pleading, “please stop screwing around.”

He sounds slightly offended when he replies. “You think I’m screwing around?”

“Yes!” Your exclamation doesn’t seem to affect him, so you opt for a more direct approach. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I came with you because I trusted you.” The words are spat out, but Childe only seems amused.

“Trusted me?” He chuckles. “Sweetheart, if you trusted me, you would’ve told me about your flight from the start instead of lying about putting in a one week notice. You’re scared of me, and despite the fact that it stings like salt on an open wound, I suppose there’s some merit to that as well.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean?”

You bite the inside of your cheek now. There’s no way you can tell what Childe means by what he said. Judging from your previous conversations as well, your fear of him is a sour spot, but maybe you could exploit that to your favour.

“I’m afraid of you, because of your unpredictability and that is exactly what you are demonstrating right now.” You grab onto his sleeve again, albeit more desperately this time. “You gave me more reasons to fear you than you did to like you.”

The car slows, as if synchronised with Childe’s thought process. “Is that… really what you think of me?”

“Yes,” you reply in an even voice. “I was already a little scared from what I heard from people and then you started doing all this stuff-”

“Stuff like what?”

“Stuff like this!”

He sighs, moving the steering wheel to stop the car at the side of the road. “I just told you that I can’t ever hurt you, and you’re still calling me scary?”

Your eyes focus on his expression, specially searching for any signs of him lying - hypocritical on your part - but fail to find anything other than sincerity. The grip on his sleeve loosens, your hand ultimately returning to your lap, when he turns to face you. It’s intimidating to look into his dead eyes but it still makes you wonder how such a beautiful colour can be so lifeless.

Childe’s lips move and despite your feelings you find yourself absolutely memorised by the plush pink as his voice leaves his mouth.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

His declaration forces you to focus on his words, any attraction be damned.

“Lying to me and saying that you haven’t decided on leaving for home did get on my nerves a little,” he says, “but I forgive you. You’re cute, so I can’t stay mad at you for long.”

You let his words sink in. He says that he forgives you for the lie, but what now?

“Alright,” you drawl, voice nervous, “now can we please go to the airport?”

Childe leans in, a smile on his face. “How about instead of the airport, we go home?”

The word ‘home’ catches your attention and dread settles in. If he’s implying what you think he is, then you don’t think you’ll be able to catch your flight, let alone get to the airport.

“Childe,” you croon, “I think we have some misunderstandings. Before either of us does something impulsive and hurtful, let’s just talk it over.”

He just looks amused. “Oh? Talk over what? You’re the one pushing me away.”

You try again to de-escalate. “I only told you that I don’t want a relationship.”

“Liar.” Childe’s hand reaches for the edge of your seat, the skin below his collarbones and a little bit of his chest visible as he leans in closer. “We’ve already had this discussion before. Since you’re cute and obviously not in very good mental shape at the moment, I’ll give you a little bit of advice. Let me do my thing. I’m not going to hurt you, just… change your scenery a little.”

You narrow your eyes at him upon saying the word ‘scenery’. Though consternation eats you up on the inside, you trust that Childe wouldn’t do anything to you, at least not physically. What he is currently planning to do is a different matter.

Patience, you remind yourself. That might just be the only thing you have left.

“Now that that’s settled,” he says, going back to the steering wheel, “why don’t I take you home? I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s more comfortable and spacious than where you were living.”

In the most calm and even voice you could muster, you try pleading with him again. “Childe, please. Don’t do something that would make me hate you.”

He doesn’t even look at you when he answers. The lack of smile and his eyes fixed on the road as he continues driving does not help ease your increasing dread. “It might be a small bump, but the end destination is what matters in this case, not the journey.”

You glance to the door handle in an act of desperation but bite your lip when all hope is lost at the sight of the lock. Month old words hit you like a truck, patience being some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them. After all this time, would it be wise to believe you’ll be alright?

#childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

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rogueddie · 3 months

Text

Warmth and Safety T | 808 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him

Steve knows he should be in his own hospital room. Not only so other people can visit too, but because of how his head spins as he struggles to walk down the corridor.

The white walls are too clinical, too metalic. They look nothing like the Russians underground lair, but mixed with the sharp stench of bleach and medicine? It's mixing into a cruel cocktail that has his instincts screaming for Robin.

He pushes forward, gritting his teeth and- trying- to ignore the memories trying to haunt him.

"Steve," Eddie greets, when he finally makes it through the door into his room, sounding exhausted. "What the hell, man?"

"I'm fine," Steve lies, hating how breathless he sounds. He sags into the chair next to Eddies bed, grimacing. "Just need a minute... catch my breath. There's, like, so many stairs."

Eddie is silent for a long moment, but Steve can feel his eyes boring into his head.

"What?"

"Wh- you shouldn't be here, man!" Eddie says. He sounds too exhausted for the stern tone to have any effect. "The nurses have told you already. You need to heal. You can't do that if you're dragging yourself around to... I don't know, check on us?"

"I need to make sure you're ok."

"We're in a hospital. We're as ok as we can get."

"I get that, but..."

The clock chimes, the earth rumbling as the town reads apart, Dustin's screams...

"Yeah, I know," Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I understand, alright? But you need to cut this shit out."

"I can't."

"Steve-"

"I need to know that you're alive. I need to know. It's not enough to hear that you're ok, I need to see it. I need to, Eds."

"Jesus Christ," he throws his head back, sighing heavy and dramatically.

But then he lifts his head, smirking a little as he opens an arm out towards him, beckoning him closer.

"Come here, big boy, let me give you a hug."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he does as he told, standing up so he was shuffle to the bed.

"You don't have to say it all creepy, man, you'll give me ideas."

"Promise?" Eddie wiggles his eyebrows. But his playfulness quickly morphs into exasperation again when he huffs out, "just sit down, Steve, come on, come here."

It takes a lot of gesturing and, eventually, slight man handling, but eventually Eddie gets Steve to lay down next to him. He tugs Steve's head down so his ear is resting on his chest and, with some hesitation, he curls an arm around Eddie's waist.

He can feel his heartbeat, thumping against his ear, matching the beeping of the monitor.

"There," Eddie mumbles, brushing his fingers down Steve's spine. "Better, right?"

"... yeah."

His heart is pounding, almost as much as Eddie's is. It's only a little reassuring that Eddie is just as nervous as him- he can only hope it's for the same reason.

"You need to take care of yourself too," Eddie continues. "Who's gonna run around after those brats of you don't heal right? Me? I'm a bad influence, Stevie, you know I'll make 'em worse."

"You'd do great, they love you."

"Noooo," he squeezes Steve a little tighter, whining as high as he can get his voice to go. "Please, I'm begging, I'll go insane if I have to deal with them alone!"

"Now you know how I feel."

"God, I wish I didn't," Eddie sighs, turning serious again so fast that Steve feels like he's getting whiplash. "This whole thing is fucked. Those kids are only, like, fifteen."

Steve hesitates for a moment, before whispering, "I was sixteen, when this all started. Back in 83.x

"Jesus."

"Yeah, it's... I don't know. Like, I know it's horrible, but I like it when it's like this. Everyone in one place, knowing that there's doctors and shit nearby."

"That's not horrible. You know they're being cared for."

"Yeah, but it's worse this time. Like... I keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and we won't have made it. This will be some stupid dream and you and Max..."

"We're still here," Eddie brings a hand up to his head, brushing his hair back. "You can feel it, right? I'm right here. We're not going anywhere."

Steve nods, closing his eyes so he can focus on Eddie's heartbeat.

"You know I love seeing you, right? Just... at least get a wheelchair or something. Please?"

Something is his chest cracks at how Eddie's voice breaks, how pained and desperate he sounds.

"Ok. I can do a wheelchair."

"Good. You start taking care of yourself and we can do this everyday."

"Promise?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispers, hand finally coming to a stop, cupping his cheek. "Yeah, I promise. Whenever and for however long you need. I'll be right here."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm

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pinkrelish · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶On Monday, he was a ghost. By Friday, he was a man. Saturday night? He was the unintentional third wheel to your and Adrie's Trick-or-Treating antics.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, reader wears eddie's jacket, light angst, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 4/20 [wc: 10.8k]

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

AO3

Chapter 4: Ghost Days

Eddie went through Monday like a ghost.

A spectacle in his youth, now a specter. A phantasm phasing through walls. Not a hello, nor a goodbye. Existing in the corners of the room, watching. No attention on him, just working, and thinking. Tending to his dying garden of thoughts when the sun didn’t shine. Moving around you, and the tug of your gravitational pull, with your gaze firm on the desk in front of you, not on the haunt who brought this upon himself, and hurt you in the process.

“You okay, Eddie?” his uncle asked, running a hand up and down his back. “You’ve been staring at that pot of boiling water for ten minutes.”

Eddie fluttered his lashes at the bubbles bursting on the surface. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind.”

————

Tuesday, Wednesday he was a full-body apparition.

No morning smiles, no afternoon laughter, but a single sentence.

“Oh!” You hugged the files to your chest, not knowing Eddie was passing in the hallway to break room right as you were leaving Mr. Moore’s office. Several of the papers crinkled from running into him. Your eyes were screwed shut, expecting an impact. All signs Eddie was real; a thing of worth, a precious brick wall who cupped your arm when you stumbled, who slotted his thumb in the crease of your inner elbow. A chest to brace your hand against. Fingers grasping his dirty coveralls. He was there. He caught you.

And the next day–

“Eddie?”

Your sudden presence scared him. He slammed his black spiral-bound notebook shut and kept his palm over the devil-horned skull he drew on the front.

Sat alone at the table to eat his lunch, the low drone of the vending machines camouflaged the sound of you approaching, and he was too absorbed bin what he was writing down to notice you had entered the break room. Did not realize how close you had gotten until the heel of your palm pressed into a particularly sore muscle in his back from how you steadied yourself on his chair as you bent over.

You picked your gaze up from the notebook, and landed on his eyes. Even if you didn’t mean to, the knot between your brows relaxed the smallest degree–a nearly imperceptible amount–but with how he drank in your appearance, he detected it.

“You wrote O2 for this part here, did you mean X2?” you asked, referring to the invoice in your hand. He watched you bring the question to life. Voice and lips working together to create a lullaby for the unrest in his head. Breath cooling the wet trace of his tongue on his lips.

He was desperate for interaction. He knew. You were too. You just hid it better.

“Eddie,” you reminded him, keen on the five-o’clock-shadow peppering his cheek from neglecting a shave.

If things were different, would you have caressed your thumb along the grain? Would you have pushed his bangs off his forehead, run your fingers through his hair, and pressed your lips to the delicate curve of his temple? Would you tell him he was a good dad for fixing the water heater again, and getting his daughter to school on time, even when he wanted to do nothing more than lay on the couch and cry?

“X2,” he confirmed, “Yeah, I meant X2. Sorry.”

————

Thursday? He was corporeal.

Carl returned from his stay-cation. Stay-at-home-vacation, also known as his wife’s birthday.

He was taking a break in his story to microwave his lasagna when the fading voice of a customer went out the front door, ringing its chime. There was shuffling in the lobby. A backpack being unzipped.

The microwave beeped, and Carl picked up his container with the tips of his fingers, bringing it over to the table, where he sat in the chair facing the hallway.

You walked in with your lunch container, saw the back of Eddie’s head, and walked out.

Carl watched Eddie’s demeanor wilt at the swift exit, gaze falling to the corner of his eyes in acknowledgement of where you were just standing. Face blank, except for the heavy depression drifting his eyelids half-closed. Posture sagged more than normal.

“Is Adrie excited for Saturday?” Carl asked, keeping the conversation light, because boy, did he know that heartbroken look.

“Mm?” Eddie jerked his head up, attentive. He processed the question, and crowded his packed mish-mash of leftovers to his chest, chewing his horrible attempt at replicating Wayne’s pork chop supper as he talked, “Oh, yeah, yeah. Free candy and seeing her friends? She’s been bouncing off the walls all week.” He stabbed an undercooked carrot and brandished it with the same motion he rolled his eyes. “But,” he drew out for comedic effect, “She wanted to dress up as a bat again. Great! Same as last year. No problem, right? So, I take out her costume from the closet, have her try it on, and you know what she says?”

Carl shook his head with a slow grin stretching across his face.

“It’s not pretty enough!” Eddie ate the carrot. “She never wants to be a princess, but all her friends do, and now she’s gotten it in her head that if her costume doesn’t have the same glitter and pizzazz theirs does, it’s not good enough.”

He laughed, “My boys were easier. When they fought over who got to be Donatello, and who got to be Michaelangelo, all we had to do was switch mask colors and weapons.”

“See, they knew what they were doing with the Ninja Turtles, man. Easiest costumes to reuse.”

“Exactly.”

“Now I gotta figure out how to navigate telling her most of the stores are sold out of everything.”

“It’s a toughie, that’s for sure.”

The conversation ended with two knowing nods, sharing the same shallow gripes about parenthood. Carl finished his meal first, and left the table to return to work, while Eddie picked away at his, submerging himself in his thoughts.

A recent drizzle cast Hawkins in a misty haze. The drink machine clicked, and the steady hum rose to a higher frequency. Footsteps squeaked down the hallway. The nervous hand of a once confident woman gripped the doorframe, and she leaned into the room, speaking in a small voice, “I can help.”

Eddie perked up. Head visibly lifting, shoulders drawn back and down. He didn’t respond. Not until he turned around in his chair, and you persevered through the awkward amount of eye contact; wide and unblinking.

You reiterated, “I can help fix up Adrie’s costume so it’s glittery.. Or whatever you said.” Totally not eavesdropping. You waited for a response. “More her style,” you mumbled, filling the void when he forgot what words were.

“Y-Yeah! That–Uhm.. Yeah, you have that kind of stuff?” He clutched onto the back of his chair, knuckles white, bending the plastic from the weight he leaned on it. His face was of equal intrigue, eyes pleading for more interaction, lips parted for more questions, eyebrows pinched in and upwards to show his humility. His thanks.

In a valiant effort for normalcy, you started with a self-deprecating comment, “I mean, it’s not like I was performing on Broadway with a whole costuming department’s worth of tailors, you know. Bobbie and I had to pull all-nighters to finish our own shitty ensembles, so I’m pretty handy with a glue gun, and my sewing skills are serviceable, if I do say so myself.” You stepped further into the break room to put your unfinished lunch in the fridge. “I have tons of fabric and crafting supplies left over. Seriously, I don’t mind spicing up her costume if you wanna bring it by tomorrow. I think I can make something she likes.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to–”

His mouth sealed itself shut at the incremental smirk sneaking its way across your face.

“Well, you see,” you said, exuding pure charisma, “Now you’ve gone and phrased it in a way which enacts my policy. I have to say ‘yes.’”

Given his current state, Eddie was little more than a mess of nerves; sleeping in uncomfortable positions that had his bones aching due to Adrie’s fear of monsters under her bed sending her to sleep with him on the couch; along with the general up-and-down rush of stress when he passed by your desk, and nothing came of his sad glance in your direction.

Unfiltered relief slipped past his chapped lips as he looked up at you, “Thank you.”

————

By Friday, he was a man.

Eddie skipped his morning cigarette. He wore his lucky Metallica t-shirt under his coveralls. Adrie had to beg him to release her from his powerful hug this morning, flailing her arms and pretending to choke, until the other parents in the carpool lane stared, and he relented.

He walked into the garage’s lobby with sure steps, making a quick stop behind the receptionist desk to drop off a neatly folded pile of black fabric. Then, he looked down the shadowed hallway leading to the lively break room, and he breathed deep.

You were framed by the doorway. Your back was to him, bent over the sink, just beginning to wash the coffee pot.

One thing was for certain.

If anything ever happened between you two and it didn’t pan out, work would be weird. That much he learned this week. And that was just another reason to keep his boundaries up. Another good fucking reason to apologize, turn around, and go back to being cordial work buddies, and have that be the extent of your relationship.

And yet, here he was, flirting with the ring of fire he lit himself.

Crossing his arms, he squeezed his biceps, and leaned his shoulder on the wall outside the room, mind racing as he organized the same speech he rehearsed hundreds of times this morning. “Can we talk?”

Now, the unfortunate thing about rehearsing one-sided speeches was the unpredictability of which you’d follow the script.

“If you’re here to apologize–again–for spending a runtime of 83 minutes with me because it was just that awful, I’ll scream.”

Eddie had to manually force himself to relax out of his wince. “I deserved that,” he exhaled, speaking to himself only. He deserved your stern tone, your angry way of scrubbing the pot. The stiffness between your bunched shoulders. The tight annoyance in your throat from the way he treated you.

Yesterday was a nice break from the tension, but he hadn’t yet made amends, despite the olive branch you extended to him in the form of fixing up his daughter’s costume. “What if I apologized for something else?”

“The jury’s still out on that one.”

“Good enough,” he said. “Listen, ah, I’ve been reflecting on what happened Friday, and I realized I came across like an asshole,” –He shut his eyes, and shook his head– “I was an asshole, whether I meant to be, or not. I mean, yeah, I had a lot on my mind, but that doesn’t justify my behavior in blowing you off like that, especially when you were nothing but nice to me when you saw they set us up together, and you just wanted us to have a good time.. I can tell I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”

You rinsed out the soap suds and filled the pot with water, turning off the sink.

There, he apologized, now he should turn around, and go back to being cordial work buddies.

But he was so fucking stupid.

Committing to something he may come to regret, he entered the break room and stopped when he came to the counter beside the sink, bending sideways to rest his arm there, and kicking out his hip. “I didn’t even get to tell you how pretty you were.”

Immediately, you angled yourself away to pull the coffee machine towards you, and poured water into the reservoir.

Eddie let out a groan as his brain caught up with his mouth. “I meant are. How pretty you are..” he spoke at your back while you still refused to acknowledge him. “I meant to say how pretty you are.”

His stomach seized. None of this was going how he planned, so.. fuck it. “I think you’re really pretty right now, actually.”

Nothing seemed louder than his quick breaths, and heart beating in his throat.

The longer you went silent, he considered getting a new job bagging groceries for the supermarket they built on Cherry Street last year.

You slotted the pot onto the hot plate, and opened the cabinet in front of you, blocking his view of you as you reached for the coffee container. But when you closed the door, he had to clench the tremble of annoyance out of his hands.

Try as you might–lips scrunched to the side, cheeks sucked in, making a big production of counting the spoonfuls of grounds you scooped into the filter basket–your smile was obvious. Obvious, and irritating; leading him on as if his advances were a worse offense than his attitude after your date.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed like you were doing him a favor. “I guess you’ve appealed to my ego enough for me to forgive you.”

“You’re the absolute worst person I’ve ever–”

“Yeah. But you think I’m pretty.”

“Whatever,” Eddie grunted, tugging a strand of hair over his mouth, embarrassed to hear his own honesty repeated back at him. “So we’re good?”

You had a sarcastic statement ready on your tongue–he saw it in how you narrowed your eyes, and tipped your head. A loftiness to the way you regarded him; all pompous and teasing and so sure he was being silly and asking questions for the sake of bothering you.

Then, you witnessed his shy quirk, and were instantly disarmed.

“Yes, Eddie, we’re good. The best of friends.. And are you sure you weren’t disappoint–”

“If you’re about to ask me if I was disappointed that you were my date for the third time, I’ll scream.”

You laughed. You tore your gaze from his fingers playing with his curls, and closed the lid of the coffee machine, but in doing so, you turned away, and you both discovered a subtle truth about him.

Eddie was the type who wanted to witness the full scope of the joy he brought on others. When he made someone laugh, he wanted to drink it all in. He wanted to observe the exact way they smiled, how far back they threw their head, if their eyes closed with mirth, if tears sprang, if they giggled to appease him, or if they were expelling a cathartic release. When he made someone happy, he leaned in to hoard the revelry, collect it, and share it. Seeking out their gaze, mirroring them to experience their pleasure first-hand. It’s what made him happy.

It caused him to encroach on their personal space subconsciously, pursuing the pride, and sense of achievement he felt when he accomplished making someone else feel good.

He stood close to you. Very close to you, studying you unabashedly, basking the pure unadulterated validation of making you smile.

You idly scratched your thumbnail over a stain on the counter. “Pretty, huh?” you mused quietly. “Is the hoodie really doin’ it for ya?” It was once black, now sun-faded and overwashed. There was a logo on the front for a random high school. Your high school, Eddie assumed. Clearly, a beloved item, and one you wore when doing craft projects, as indicated by the layers of glitter, dried paint, and burn marks from a hot glue gun marring the sleeves.

Still leaned over, he dropped his hand from his mouth, and swept his hair to one side, exposing the length of his throat. “Maybe it is.”

“Shut up,” you snorted.

“The frumpy ‘just rolled out of bed at noon and forgot to get milk at the grocery store’ look really gets me going.”

“Frumpy–?” In the middle of pressing the ON button and shoving the coffee machine into its place on the counter, you went to pin Eddie with a glare for laying the teasing remarks on thick today, but your attention drifted. Your focus found his eyes shining with slyness, and dropped your gaze to the crook of his neck, where you spied something dastardly. “How does this keep happening? Do you not look in a mirror?”

As you nagged him, you reached for his coveralls. Somehow, the collar kept managing to tuck itself on the inside, and you were at its beck and call, slipping two fingers underneath to unfurl it, coaxing it out in a long stroke over the peak of his collarbone, and down the slope of his chest, over his heart. Longer than two beats worth. The fabric was quite rolled up today. You had to slide along his lucky shirt to find the pointed end, and pull it out, laying it flat. Smoothing down the edges, and securing his tan work jacket over it. Patting them both to seal the kind gesture.

From his periphery, he watched you tend to him, and his smirk grew.

Fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Guess I don’t look at myself too often,” he said, eyeing your hands lingering on his person–flattening your palms over his pec for a prolonged moment before retreating–and he nodded for you to follow him out of the room to your desk. He needed the extra seconds away from you to rid himself of his smugness.

Talking about the costume, he rounded to the taller side of your desk, while you sat opposite him in your chair, “Luckily it was big on her last year, so it still fits. It’s just a little short in the legs.”

“Gotcha.” You shook out the bat wings and rubbed the fuzzy material of the suit between your fingers. “Does she have room for another layer underneath? Warm pajamas, or something? The temperature’s supposed to drop tonight. I think a cold front is coming in.”

“Yeah, there’s room.”

“Okie dokie.” You cracked your knuckles and looked at him expectantly. He raised his eyebrows. You raised yours higher. You made a more obvious face. He made a confused one back at you. “Dude, leave. I can’t work with you watching me.”

He curled his lip in a mocking sneer, and went to work in the garage, where–ironically–you could watch him.

~~~

Turns out, you were serious about the double standards of your relationship.

Eddie caught you sneaking glances in his direction whenever he’d wheel out from underneath a car, or when he was bent over the engine of a truck, but as soon as he took his sweet time locating his favorite socket wrench from the tool cabinet (that most definitely wasn’t already in his back pocket), you blocked your project with your body and moved your lips like you were telling him off.

And when he knocked on the glass to gesture for more clean rags from the supply closet, you scrambled to hide the felt shapes you were cutting out, and sent a tube of glitter paint rolling across the lobby.

Even as he relaxed into the plush seat of his car after a long day of work, and the rumble of the engine soothed his mind from exterior worries, his eyes traveled from the bright red stop light swaying in the wind, to the custom crimson interior of his Dodge Omni Shelby, to the pile of black fabric next to him.

He drove with one hand on the wheel. He could just.. take a peek at what the hell you were doing all day.

“Don’t even think about peeking! It’s a surprise. I want Adrie to see it first, and then you can look when she’s trying it on.”

He snatched his wandering fingers away from the bat wing and cupped them around his inner thigh–his usual place for resting them.

~~~

When he opened the door to his trailer, the little lady of the hour came running at him full-speed.

“There’s my facehugger!” Eddie announced through his laugh, stepping backwards to soften the blow of her enthusiasm. And yeah, maybe he shouldn’t refer to his daughter as a parasitic alien from a horror franchise, but the clinginess comparison was accurate.

Adrienne made her immediate attempt to climb him known–clutching onto the hem of his work jacket, and shaking it. “Daddy!” she demanded, making grabby hands at him.

“Hold on, hold on.” He knelt to her level, and promised to pick her up in a few minutes if she exhibited an ounce of patience. “You remember that nice lady from work you drew pictures with?” Thinking about it, she twisted back and forth with excess energy, and gave a big nod, pressing her fingers along her smile. “Well, she heard your costume wasn’t up to your standards, so she wanted to make your Halloween extra special this year. She worked on this all day..” he said slowly, drawing out the grand reveal.

True to his word, Eddie unfolded the outfit he had clutched under his arm, and held it out in front of him, showing it to her first and watching her reaction.

Uncle Wayne opened the bathroom door in the midst of tidying up his beard, dragging a towel around his neck to wipe away the excess shaving cream. Interested in the commotion, and especially curious as to why the person he referred to as his own granddaughter was currently running around the coffee table screaming at the top of her lungs, he questioned anyone who could hear him, “What’s all this goin’ on?”

“The lady at work made my bat costume pretty–Look!” Adrie tugged on the bottom of Wayne’s flannel.

“I see,” he said, vaguely recalling the young receptionist she was referring to. He raised his eyebrows at Eddie. “She did all that?”

He shrugged. “She’s nice.”

Too excited, Adrie unzipped the back of the jumpsuit and climbed in while Eddie held it open. Still, he did not peep at the finished product. Not until every foot wiggled out of the appropriate amount of leg holes, and every sleeve found a hand.

Adrienne walked backwards into the living room and struck a pose with her arms out, flapping them.

Wayne ‘aww’d and clapped.

Eddie sat back on his calves, mouth slightly agape.

You really were nice.

The costume was magnificent. The black fleece was painted with thin strokes of white paint to give the illusion of hair, with special attention around the turtleneck collar where you glued white faux fur into a short mane. Cleverly, the pants were extended with layers of iridescent tulle that caught the light in shimmery rainbows, disguising how short they were on her.

The wings themselves were works of art. Showstoppers. Instead of hanging limp from under her arms, you had used flexible plastic to create bones, giving them some structure.

They were exactly what Adrie wanted. Silver glitter served as a mere backdrop to the myriad of foil stars glued to the fabric. As one’s attention panned downwards, they grew in size and frequency, until there was a disco ball amount of flash and pizzazz. To top it all off, there were felt clouds and crescent moons dangling on strings from the bottom. The stuffed and stitched celestial motifs swung with Adrie’s grand gestures.

And as if that wasn’t enough, Wayne picked up two little black triangles that bounced onto the carpet when Eddie revealed the costume. “C’mere, Adrie,” he said, holding them up to her head. “You’ve got two little ears on barrettes, too.”

“Jesus,” Eddie exhaled.

His next breath caught in his throat. He discovered why you snipped the fabric where it was previously attached to the suit, and gave it an extra bone structure to wrap around.

It was so he could slip his arms around his daughter, and hug her tight without any impediments. “You like it, yeah?”

She threw her arms around his neck, and imbued all her surprise into her little voice, “Are you kidding me? It’s my favorite–the best costume ever! I love it.”

“We’ll have to find a way to thank her when I see her on Monday.”

The hug lasted until Eddie’s knees ached. Still, he clung to her as one clung to a lifesaver. He passed his palm over her hair. He stroked his thumb on the back of her head. He pressed her into the darkness against his throat. He squeezed her to conceal the way he shook. If anyone were to notice the secret of his actions, it would be the person who raised him as one would raise their own son.

Wayne walked over and ruffled his nephew’s hair.

~~~

Later, after Adrie had gone to bed, Eddie confessed, “That took me so off guard, I almost cried. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me, or Adrie, in years.. I mean, outside of everything you do for us. And Steve, too. I just didn’t expect her to put that much effort into a costume.. Or to care that much.”

“I know, son,” Wayne said, patting him on the knee as they sat on the couch, lit by the muted earthy tones of the local news channel. “She seems real nice.”

————

It was a howling Halloween night.

Eddie pulled off the main road into the nice neighborhood on the west side of Hawkins. Everyone knew you went to the rich houses on Halloween, as evident by the agonizing minutes it took to find a place to park, while Adrie was oblivious and just wanted out of her car seat.

Crowds swarmed the doors handing out the best candy. Groups of friends gathered in the streets. Kids ran down the sidewalk to ogle the elaborate decorations. “Is the entire population here, or somethin’?” Eddie grumbled, shifting the gear stick into park.

Once Adrie was out, he asked her, “Do you wanna stop by a few houses on the way to Steve’s?” She eyed the rowdy bigger kids pushing each other on their way up the driveway next to her, and she held out her hand for Eddie to take as a silent answer.

When she was with her friends, she was outgoing, but in this unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers in the dark, she needed her dad to guide her.

“You’ll feel better once we have some candy in your bucket,” he promised, swinging the orange jack-o-lantern pail back and forth.

In reality, Eddie dreaded this part. Hated it. Going up to houses, knocking on doors, glancing away the second they were answered. He dressed differently. Tried to blend into the back of a big group. Kept his gaze on his daughter shying behind his legs, speaking for her, and hoping her cuteness distracted the adults from taking too close of a look at him. Shuffling away before they could recognize him, remember his last name, and make that same face they always did:

Barely concealed disgust.

Eddie held her hand for several streets until she felt comfortable going up to doors without him, thanks to finding a friend or two from preschool. Those parents were easier. Some he’d gotten to know over the last two years due to birthday parties and school events. Yet, they returned his greeting out of politeness. Waited on the sidewalk like him, but at a distance; in a circle, not inviting him to their grown-up talk.

That’s okay. He felt less alone when Adrie came jogging back to show him her candy. And although she insisted she was a big girl and didn’t need to hold his hand anymore, she walked as if she were glued to his side, three steps to his one stride.

“I don’t need you, Daddy.”

“Yeah, you do.”

On and on, they made their way up the streets, and came upon a white-picket fence dwelling sat modestly between two larger statements, right as the porch light turned off and a group of people left the home.

Fate was a funny thing.

Steve held the gate open for Nancy and whispered something in her ear as she passed, earning a withered glare before she turned and the moon caught the smile flitting across her lips. Behind her, dashing from the shadows, was their son. He held his plastic sword high above his head, and gave a brave battle cry against the person who emerged next.

Robin, also dressed as a pirate, jumped from the top of the stairs and clashed her sword with his. They tussled on their way to the fence, stopping when she feigned a dramatic death, and had to chase down her tricorn hat from rolling into the street.

Eddie’s hand was sweating–Adrie said so with a yuckiness to her words as she ran to join Steve’s son and their group of trick-or-treaters, leaving him behind to stare. And stare. And stare. And try not to burst into a grin.

He wouldn’t have to wait ‘til Monday to thank you.

Step by step, you helped their daughter teeter down the stairs. Patiently holding her hand, encouraging her to the bottom, and brought her to Steve, who was getting out the stroller from the trunk of his car.

“No! I’m–I.. Will walk,” their little girl finished in a disjointed manner, engrossed by the array of bedsheet ghosts, lispy vampires, and corn-syrup-blood-covered werewolves moving around her.

“Yeah, okay, kid,” Steve said sarcastically. “You wanna be a big girl and walk on your own, but we both know after two houses you’re gonna be begging for the stroller.”

Like most girls, she brushed him off, and turned to you for assistance with her jacket. The puffy orange snow suit hindered her movements; her walk was a waddle, and her arms stuck out from her sides helplessly. She was warm, though.

You, on the other hand, were dressed in what Eddie could only call an adult onesie. A fitted one; hugging you in places he shouldn’t notice it hugging you while you were squatting down to zip up her jacket, but a onesie, nonetheless.

“There we go.” He heard you say from where he stood, roughly a car-length away, lurking in the darkness like a creep.

But he’d have to find a way to repent later. His fate tapped you on the shoulder, and his heart set the tempo for his plucky courage’s passion.

“Adrie!” you squealed at her. She greeted you with equal fervor. “Your costume is so, so pretty!” Without a second thought, you bent over, put your hands on your thighs, and asked while waggling your eyebrows, “Wanna fly?”

“Yeah!”

Adrie unveiled her full glittery wingspan, and you clasped her under her arms, instructing her to jump. Up she went. You raised her above you to your full extent and spun in circles. Giggly, messy circles. Showing her off for everyone to see. Parading her for the slew of compliments coming from onlookers. And when your strength tired, you brought her to your hip, and held her tight, still spinning. Dizzy, silly twirls. Savoring the closeness of your foreheads almost touching.

You slowed to stop to scan the scene around you, searching the shapeless night. “Where’s your dad, hmm?”

She pointed behind you.

Over your shoulder, your gazes connected in between a family dressed as Peanuts characters.

Eddie raised his hand, but forgot to move it back and forth.

Your face brightened. The love you showed Adrie reflected in your eyes when you found him. Smiling bigger, somehow, at his stupid wave when he remembered how to perform one.

“Nice costume,” you teased, sauntering up to him with a swagger. “Light-wash blue jeans instead of black. How different.”

“Yeah, and what are you? A cat? So creative.” He meant it as an insult to your gray onesie with a tan belly, but he was the one who followed your quick glance at his stupid hand still waving like an utter moron, and he stuffed his fists in his pockets, wondering if he’d ever recover his dignity after this encounter.

“Uh, I’m clearly a mouse,” you drawled, inclining your head to show off your rounded mouse ears on your headband.

Adrie copied your exact tone and inflection to serve as a gut punch, “Yeah, Daddy, she’s clearly a mouse.”

His greatest fear mocked him. With Adrie on your hip, and your two matching smirks taunting him with your cheeks pressed to one another, he shook his head, and pinched his eyebrows up in worried exasperation. “I don’t need two of you.” A revelation he should take more seriously as you looked at Adrie, and you both giggled. Tips of your noses grazing. Hugging you around your neck. Touching your animal ears and calling you ‘Miss Mouse.’ Thanking you for her costume, and you asked, seeking her genuine approval as you fitted one of her tiny hands in yours to stretch a wing out.

“You like it?”

“I love it!”

You swayed with her in the new position, resembling two people slow dancing despite there being no background music other than shrieks of laughter, and a chorus of “trick-or-treat!”

Yeah, this feeling in his chest was evolving past the boundaries.

Shit.

Eventually you had to support her with two arms again, thus ending your waltz, and you remembered Eddie was there, and Eddie remembered to direct his tender expression at his daughter.

“So, really,” you said, nudging his white tennis shoes and giving him a once-over, “Who’re you supposed to be? A grumpy guy who couldn’t be bothered? A wet blanket?” You leaned in. “Don’t tell me you’re dressed as a stick in the mud for the second week in a row. That’s just gauche, Eddie.”

Adrie latched onto one word specifically. She pointed at him with all her might, and declared, “Grumpy! You’re Grumpy.”

“Great,” he groaned. Yet, there was not a trace of annoyance tugging at his lips–just his tongue poking through as his daughter reduced him to an unpleasant character. “Tell her what movie you watched this morning.”

“I watched Snow White with grandpa,” she said. You gave an understanding ‘ahh.’ “Grandpa is Sneezy. Daddy is Grumpy. You can be..”

“I’ll be Dopey.”

Eddie snorted, “Fitting.” You cut him a soft frown, and he shifted his focus back to his daughter. Eye contact with you was too difficult. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. A single longing look gave away too much, he had to put an end to them. “You think I’m Grumpy, huh?”

She jabbed her finger at him again. “You! Most definitely are.”

The immediate flash of devilry in his eyes was her only warning. “What’d I tell you about pointing at people?” He snatched her wrist in a weak grasp, and lunged at her, snapping his teeth, pretending to bite her finger off with a smile. She scream-laughed and buried her face in your shoulder.

“Aw, it’s okay, Adrie,” you consoled her, “I always knew he was a biter. Lemme count your fingers, ‘nd make sure you have all six.”

“Six?” she cried.

Besotted by your willingness to indulge his humor, Eddie lost track of his inhibitions, and acted on a deep-rooted impulse from his youth, when he was more expressive of his urges. He crept in close while you were busy doting over Adrie, and lowered his face to where he was allowed to whisper in a deeper register, “Hey, no picking on my kid. That’s my job.” To make matters worse, he reached for your side, aimed for your ribs through the single layer of fleece, and prodded. It was a success. You yelped. You were ticklish. Another trait to add to the list of things he shouldn’t know about you.

Steve’s bafflement pierced the rambunctious Jedi fight happening in the middle of the road, “Are you three gonna catch up, or do I need to make you get in the wagon?” he threatened. Sure enough, he was hauling a red wagon of someone else’s kids behind him dressed as various dinosaurs, complete with masks.

More parents had joined the trick-or-treat cavalry, milling about on the sidewalk, waiting for Adrie before they knocked on the next house. You recognized this quicker than Eddie, and offered to take her by, well, simply walking off with her in your arms.

For the first block he was alone with his thoughts. Watching you go from house to house holding his daughter’s hand. Sitting back while you took over for him, and lessened his burdens. When it was you crouched next to Adrie, smiling up at the adults with buckets of candy, they didn’t see Munson. They saw a cute little girl and her supposed mom participating in innocent fun.

“Hey, bud,” Steve said, swinging around to his side, tossing an arm around his shoulders, and shaking him. Eddie could sense the subject he was about to bring up from his consoling squeeze alone. “So, how goes the whole ‘not falling in love’ thing?”

Eddie had his correction at the ready, “I said ‘attached,’ not ‘fall in love.’”

Steve gave him a long, hard stare.

“And I said it was Adrie I was worried about getting attached.”

Steve deepened his stare.

Eddie looked away, then back, then away again. He was quiet for a few strained moments, shuffling his feet while the kids thanked a woman dressed as a witch for her cauldron of candy, and his passing gaze lingered on the Mouse holding his daughter’s hand.

You glanced in his direction, where he stayed on the outskirts of the group, and suppressed a giggle. You were listening to Adrie and her friend’s story about mermaids with full interest, asking questions, and gasping at the information they were disclosing, acting as if they knew the world’s secrets and deemed you worthy of its knowledge.

It was sweet. Endearing, adorable, attractive in the worst ways, and exactly the sort of fun Adrie craved that he couldn’t provide when he was overworked, tired, and stressed to the point of crying frustrated tears.

Except, of course, those bad days had become less and less since you started working at the auto shop..

Eddie surrendered. “How does it look like it’s going?”

“Like you're happier when she’s around,” Steve replied.

“Real good that’s doin’ me.”

They had reached the end of the street, and waited to cross at the stop sign.

Steve shrugged, and said, “I think it’s cute you finally found someone to have a crush on–Ow!” He clutched his side where Eddie elbowed him.

He hissed, “Not so loud,” even though you were several feet away, and talking animatedly with Robin.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s precious.” Lifting his chin, Steve alluded to the way you picked up Adrie and herded the other children across the road like sheep. “Y’know, you were right about her saying ‘yes’ to everything. Her and Robin have some wild stories. Did you know someone came up to them at one of those sleazy hole-in-the-wall bars and asked them to perform on stage–like, obviously meaning you know, stripping–but she accepted his offer, and that’s how they started doing stand up together? Yeah, they just went up there and started shouting jokes at all the drunks. Dodging beer being thrown at them, and whatever. Sounds fun.”

“Yeah, real fun,” Eddie muttered with a horrified expression, wondering how you managed to survive this long with your absurd policy.

“Anyway,” Steve surmised. “I think you should go for it.”

The mood shifted instantly. Eddie’s face went lax, aside from his flared nostrils. He spoke firmly, “I can’t do that, man.”

“Why not?” When Eddie refused to elaborate with a scornful shake of his head, and sudden tenseness to his jaw, Steve softened his nature. He tightened his hold on him in a make-shift hug, and requested, “Talk it out with me. Tell me what you’re going through, and what you want out of this, because you sure do flirt a lot for someone who keeps denying themselves a real relationship.”

“I don’t know what the fuck I want anymore,” he exhaled in mind, body, and spirit. Just a complete depletion of all his anxieties under the weight of Steve’s arm.

Eddie ran his tongue along the back of his bottom teeth while he observed you crouch in someone’s driveway to make a case for Halloween themed pencils, and how they may not be exciting as candy, but there were bats on them, and Adrienne liked bats, therefore, the pencils were cool.

The anxieties were replaced with the blooming realization of how deep his crush went, and the stab of reality pierced the good feelings.

“There’s a million reasons why it’s a bad idea,” Eddie sighed, and gathered his thoughts to list them out as succinctly as possible. “Uh, let’s see. First of all, we’re coworkers, and this week has already been a real glimpse into how this would all pan out if I took the risk and things didn’t work out.”

Steve rocked his head to the side. “Fair, but it’s pretty obvious she likes you too, with how she flirts back.”

“Perfect segue. Okay, so maybe she does like me. But does she like me? And does she like Adrie? Can’t have one without the other. And, man, she made it clear at the movies that she doesn’t even ask if her dates have kids, because there’s never been a second one–a second date, I mean. She’s that casual about it.”

“Why not try something casual, then?”

“When have I ever approached anything casually in my life?”

“You raise a good point there,” Steve answered, shivering at the sudden uptick in frigid gusts biting through his thick jacket.

You and Robin pulled off to the side so your gaggle of kids could take turns stomping on crunchy brown leaves before they blew away.

Ensuring they were at a good distance to watch, but not be overheard, Steve kept his voice low, “What else?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Gee, I dunno, how about the fact she hates this place, and is going to leave eventually? Hate to break it to you, but even if she likes me like that, and even if things worked out for a while, I’m not ready to explain to Adrie why the nice lady she loves so much doesn’t come around anymore.”

“So make her stay around.”

“What?”

Shrugging with that stupid grin of his, Steve explained, nonchalant and lackadaisical, “You said she says ‘yes’ to everything. So just ask her to stay.”

Leaning into it, Eddie pulled an overjoyed face, and threw his arms up, gesticulating overdramatically. “Okay! Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just ask her to marry me, then she’ll be forced to stay in this hellhole with me forever. What a grand idea!”

Steve’s full-bodied laugh sent them both doubling over. “Okay, stud, going straight for marriage. It was just a suggestion that maybe she’s over the crazy party-til-dawn city life, and is looking for.. whatever it is you’ve got.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” he said with more than a hint of sarcasm. Easing out of his glare, he broke himself out of considering Steve’s validation as anything more than an audible feedback loop of the things he wanted to hear, and not the facts he needed to hear. “Doesn’t matter. She could like me, she could not. She could want kids, she could not. She could stay, she could not. I still have to see her every day, regardless. There’s not a lot of other options out there for me, and even if she didn’t want the city life anymore, I don’t think she’s gunning for the single dad whose biggest aspiration is getting a trailer of his own, so his uncle can have his room back.”

Cynicism, cynicism, cynicism. Denial.

Steve’s mouth twisted, and he became serious. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“It’s true, though.”

Ahead, a guy caught Steve’s attention and signaled that it was his turn again on wagon duty, which was the perfect excuse to make his exit because you were standing on your tip-toes, seeking out Eddie in the sea of Stormtroopers. You spotted him and waved with childlike glee, making your way over.

Steve’s hair fell into his eyes as he drew Eddie in. “One last piece of advice,” he began, gaze set on the side of his friend’s face, accepting not even he could win over his attention when it came to existing in the same universe as you. “If you’re serious about not pursuing her, maybe stop looking like you’re gonna blow your load every time she smiles at you.”

Eddie sputtered, “Jesus Christ, dude.”

With that last remark to recover from, Eddie was forced to rearrange his pale face into anything remotely appropriate while Steve got to stroll away as if nothing happened.

“Uh, hey,” he said, eyes scared wide, and showing too many teeth in his tight smile under your scrutiny.

You brought your hand up, and stepped into him until your chests were nearly together. Cocking your head, you pointed at something over yonder, and slowly, unwillingly, he stopped analyzing the nuances of your face to look at the group of kids at the house across the street. One kid in particular. Dressed in black, and with six additional arms dangling from his two human ones.

You couldn’t keep the sheer triumph out of your voice, “That spider is certainly bigger than your palm.”

He winced as if your joke physically pained him. He curled in on himself, and depleted himself of oxygen to groan a long, contemptuous, “So lame,” stressing both words to exaggerate his misery. Shaking his head as if his grievance was anything other than a ploy to discover what it felt like to reject reality, and satiate the envy he felt when Adrie got to be this close to you. Foreheads almost together. Noses almost grazing.

As if your hand trapped between your bodies was anything other than a ploy to rest the backs of your fingers on his chest as you laughed. As you leaned into him. As you tugged on his sweatshirt underneath his leather jacket, begging him to give in until, at last, he broke.

Eddie laughed with you, recklessly.

“Did you really abandon my kid to run over here and tell me that?”

“She’s safe with Bobbie,” you promised in a whisper. “And yes, I did.”

Leaf-shaped shadows danced across you both, cast from the orange glow of the streetlamp above. Autumnal bare branches, electric wires, swaying in the wind, revealing your faces in quick pieces; a wrinkled forehead here, contours of a nose there. Flashes of a puzzle you both collected and assembled in the scarce seconds before it was time to move on to the next house.

You crossed your arms tight over yourself and walked beside him, smiling at the ground.

“How’ve you enjoyed your Halloween experience?” he asked, swinging his arms wide to gesture at Hawkins in general. “I’m sure it’s a lot different than what you’re used to.”

“Oh, I love it!” you said in earnest, surrounded by all the things you’d only seen on screen before. “It’s just like the movies. Trick-or-treating, little kids running around in costumes, the weather, the decorations. It’s surreal. Usually I’d be drunk in a nightclub by now.”

Furrowing his brow, he looked upwards as if he were reading a nonexistent clock, and asked with a twinge of parental disapproval, “Isn’t it, like, 8PM?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, unperturbed. Too impassive to put him at ease. Like you were lording a secret over him. “Don’t act like you weren’t the same before you had Adrie.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Harrington’s been telling me stories about you,” you informed him, and rolled your bottom lip inward, biting it as he zeroed in on your cheeky grin getting a rise out of him.

He squinted at you. “Calling him Harrington, huh? Well, aren’t you two chummy.” Mentally rolling a Nat 20 for Stealth, he lifted his hand to your side without you noticing. “What’d he tell you?”

You made an ‘X’ over your mouth with your fingers.

The perfect position to leave yourself open for attack. I mean, the opportunity presented itself so splendidly, how could he not? How could he resist the greatest temptation?

His impending threat continued to go undetected. Giving you one last chance, he dipped his face to yours–relishing how the apples of your cheeks intruded on your eyes when you smiled this hard, forcing them to scrunch closed–and he asked, “What did he tell you?”

“I’m not repeating!” you giggled.

Oh, you were giggling all right. And in the next gasp, you were squealing, jerking away from him.

Eddie was merciless. His large hands proved too difficult to escape. He poked, prodded. Tickled you until his every, “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” was met with your, “Stop, stop, stop, please!” You fought him fruitlessly, grappling at his forearms, and failing to do little more than slip against his sleeves. He cackled at you. Mocked you with the tip of his tongue to his teeth each time you thought you got away, only to be caught again. You resisted. Resisted. Persevered in the face of evil–knocking your forehead into his chin on accident. Eddie thought you would’ve caved by now, but it was him who stopped; and not because of the unwanted attention your antics drew.

You pried him away from your ribs.

“You’re freezing!” Eddie’s mood changed on a dime at feeling your frigid fingers on top of his. He shifted so that he was enveloping your hands, encasing you in his warmth in exchange for the cold seeping to his bones.

“Yeah,” you answered sheepishly.

“You made a fuss about reminding me to put Adrie in extra layers, but you’re not wearing a jacket?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, distorting your grin. “Yeah.”

“You’re irresponsible, you know that?”

“Yeah.”

“A real bad example.”

“Yeah.”

“An absolute pain in my ass.” Eddie grinned with you. Eyelids falling half-closed. Searing your skin with his heat. Enacting the subtle art of asking questions for the sake of prolonging the moment. Not like it was obvious, given you readily accepted his fingers curled around yours with a coy glint to your gaze. Totally discreet as he let go to shrug off his jacket and hand it over.

Obliging him, you raised your eyebrows. “What a gentleman.” You slid your arms into the sleeves, snuggled into his blanketing warmth, and tugged the collar over your mouth, rendering yourself to a pair of pretty eyes.

He was a goner.

“Tell me what Harrington said.”

“Okay,” you indulged him, breath coming out as a fog. “He said..” You were back to giggling behind the collar, remembering the story. “He said one time at a party there was this big watermelon keg he spent all day working on.” Eddie pressed his lips into a line, knowing where this was going. “He scooped out the innards. Spent painstaking hours cutting up fruit to put inside it and soak up all the rum. And then you wandered in. Already hammered, and you, you–” You snickered and peeled back the collar. “You knocked it over within ten seconds of walking in the kitchen, smashing it everywhere like a crime scene.” You hid behind the collar again, then opened it, voice gone high-pitched with suppressed laughter. “And he said you panicked, and tried to scoop it up in your hands and put it in people’s cups!” More laughter. “And when they said ‘no’ because it was fucking gross floor juice, you tried eating all the fruit yourself.” One more hide and seek of the collar as you lost it in a final squeak, “And you cried!”

He waited until you calmed down to show how thrilled he was in a deadpan tone, “Great, great. I’m so glad he told you that one.”

“It certainly conjures an image.”

Thinking the conversation was over, you took a step in the direction of your trick-or-treat group, but something caught your eye. You tilted your head. He mirrored you, tilting it the same way. You shuffled to the side. He turned with you, more, more towards the streetlamp. Curious as to what you were doing, and why you were staring at his chest, mouthing something.

“What’s Corroded Coffin?”

“Uh–It’s–It’s nothing,” Eddie said a bit too loud, wiping at his sweatshirt like the self-printed logo was a crumb he could discard himself of.

Fortunately, a wild Adrienne appeared, interrupting him from making a bigger fool of himself. “My hands are cold. Can I have my gloves?”

Eddie glided his hands over his stomach out of habit, and realized his pockets weren’t there. Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of his jacket, and yanked you to him, spinning you, manhandling you. Forcing you to catch yourself on his braced muscles–shoulder to his chest, hip to a place he’d rather not dwell on. Not gentlemanly at all.

You released a string of flustered remarks, and pushed away from him, making it appear to be a benign accident in front of his daughter.

“Here,” he said to Adrie, holding the black mittens above her head, out of her reach.

She jumped, and jumped, and stomped. “Daddy,” she whined.

Dusting yourself off from the previous encounter, you agreed, “You’re so cruel, bullying your own child.”

“She knows the magic words,” he led on.

“Please!” She jumped higher, huffing and puffing.

“And?”

“And thank you!”

He relented. His evil reign came to an end. First, the tickling, now, the height advantage over a little girl. He gave Adrie the mittens and she stuck her tongue out at him before bolting off faster than lightning.

It was you turn to poke a stern finger into his ribs. “Awful, awful man,” you scolded him. Unlucky for you, he wasn’t ticklish there, nor was he ashamed of any of his actions these past few minutes. He might come to regret them when you move back to New York and these were the memories he was left with, but he wasn’t ashamed.

No, not ashamed to overstep the boundaries he resurrected in pursuit of happiness. If only a little. Enough to feel the thrill of danger, but remain safe inside his walls.

Casual.

You liked casual.

Fuck what he said earlier. He could keep it casual. He could handle innocent flirting without it getting out of hand.

“We should probably catch up with everyone before they send Scooby and the gang to search for us,” you said, walking backwards, throwing your thumb over your shoulder.

He snorted. “Terrible joke. Are you sure you were a comedian?”

You answered him with two middle fingers, which you promptly put away. Adrie came running back after just one house, hunched over, dragging her feet; hair a loose mess, barrettes dangling. Displaying all the theatrics of her father.

She made grabby hands at you. Not him. And before he could voice his hurt, you scooped her into your arms, and she rested her chin on your shoulder.

“Hey,” he complained weakly, walking up to you from behind so he could take the treat bucket before it spilled, and talk to Adrie directly. “You told me you were a big girl who could walk on her own, and didn’t need to be held.” Her refute was a babbling grumble laced with fatigue.

Speaking to you, he said, “You don’t have to carry her.”

“I don’t mind. I think they only want to do a few more houses before we head back. Do you wanna join?”

At first, Eddie was quiet, and you spun in a slow circle to see him, catching the end of his wistful expression at the rich neighborhood and its opulent houses owned by affluent people who heard a rumor or two about Munson, and decided he wasn’t worth more than their wary glances when his kid played with theirs.

“Nah, I’m good over here.” He ran his hand over the back of Adrie’s head, and relaxed his stance, staying put.

“Let me help ya out there, Cool Guy,” you said, motioning for him to bend to you. You picked a narrow, apple-red leaf out of his tangled hair, and flicked it away.

“How long has that been there?”

Shrugging your mouth to disguise your beaming grin, you feigned ignorance while walking away. “Who’s to say?”

To further exacerbate his embarrassment into genuine distress, after two Mummies answered the door, and you were coming down the sidewalk, he saw you pull off the side for Steve to pass with the stroller, and you laid your cheek on the top of Adrie’s head. You whispered something in her ear. Something most intriguing, on account of her coming to life, no longer sleepy. The exchange was short; her asking a question, and you answering. But as you nodded with heavy-lidded eyes, and she pressed her fingers to her smile, you both turned, looked at him, and giggled.

Eddie gulped.

He didn’t like this new feeling of you two sharing secrets about him. Especially ones he couldn’t threaten out of you, no matter how many times he put his hands on your ribs.

~~~

As the evening came to a close, Eddie carried Adrie on his hip while you lugged her bucket of sweets. The plastic handle bowed from the weight of the candy, and your fingertips went numb from the burden. And maybe for your troubles, you took a piece. Or two.

The group petered out until it was left to the core of you returning to Steve’s house. The goodbyes were truncated due to the three sleepy kids in tow. You handed off the bucket to Eddie, first asking if he was sure he didn’t need help getting to his car, and when he assured you he was fine, you squeezed Adrie’s ankle and whispered a goodbye she didn’t hear, too lost in Dreamland and drooling on her dad’s shoulder to know the night was over.

He said he’d see you Monday and parted ways, walking in the opposite direction, and you waited at the white-picket fence gate for Robin to stop swapping sneaky peeks at Steve and Nancy to join you.

“Bobbie, I know you don’t want me driving.”

She made eyes at Nancy one last time, and descended the porch stairs at a leisurely pace. “Yeah, we can leave.”

~~~

The drive home was a welcomed respite after the constant overstimulation. The radio was set to low, the heater caressed warmth along your wind-burnt cheeks, the headlights spotlighted deer grazing on the sides of the lonely road. Robin kept lofting soft smiles in your direction, which you returned.

Parking at her parent’s house, you closed the car door behind you, hearing it echo off the forest. The rocky driveway crunched under your shoes on your way to the door. The porch light was on, elongating your shadows across the ground, following you step by step.

“So, you and Eddie, huh?” Robin asked, turning the key in the lock.

You snapped to attention, schooling your features from giving you away. “Just friends,” you reiterated at her suggestive tone. “Just friends and coworkers. He’s dropped more than enough hints that he’s not looking for more.” You finished in more of a sigh, “Not with me, anyway.”

“Is that so?”

Her lopsided smirk struck undesired hope in your heart.

Robin pushed open the door, and curled in her forefinger to tap her knuckle on her upper lip. She dropped her gaze to your general upper body, and hummed, “You, uh.. forget something?”

You looked down at yourself. “Oh–”

————

Eddie dropped his shoulders back expecting to feel something slide down his arms. Then, he patted his chest, and realized. “–Shit.” He stared at his coat hook next to the front door where his leather jacket usually hung, and reprimanded himself in a soft laugh. “Guess I’ll have to get it back on Monday.”

“How much candy can I have?” Adrienne asked, dumping out her bucket on the coffee table, and scrambling to pick up the Tootsie Rolls that fell on the floor. She began sorting into piles of most favorite to least favorite.

“One,” Eddie stated sternly.

He turned on the TV and sat on the couch, decompressing while Adrie cackled over her hoard like Smaug. He should’ve known something was up when she wouldn’t stop giggling to herself.

His suspicions were answered when she turned around to show him the one piece she picked out–perfectly following his rules.

“Uh, absolutely not!” Eddie swiped it from her. “Seriously, who gives out full size Snickers bars on Halloween?”

“But, Daddy, you said!”

Leaning forward to rest his arms on his thighs, he demanded her attention before the pitiful crocodile tears started. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said, and reached past her for a mini Musketeers to compare. “You can have the Snickers, but you have to share half with me. See, half is still bigger than one of these little ones, so you’ll still be coming out of this a winner. ‘Kay?” She nodded and went to grab it. “But! I don’t want any tantrums when I tell you it’s bath time.” Again, she agreed and he reeled the candybar back into himself, away from her quick fingers. “And! You have to brush your teeth after.”

“I will,” she promised with a deep frown.

“And you still have to go to bed at the normal time.”

Pushing her hair out of her face, she dropped her head in another big nod.

Eddie was satisfied and went to give it to her. But another thought crossed his mind–one of true luxury–and the allure of the idea proved too good to ignore.

Much to her dismay, he snatched the candybar away before she could get a good grasp on it, and he deepened his voice to show he was serious, “And I want to shower. Ten minutes. Uninterrupted.”

She groaned at the ceiling at his never ending list of rules. “Fine!”

~~~

Riding his tingly feel-good high, Eddie opened the bathroom door to let the steam out, and toweled off the fog on the medicine cabinet mirror. He took out his comb and scissors, and sectioned out his bangs.

Brunette snips of wet hair fell in triangles onto his white tank top and around the sink. It wasn’t a noticeable trim, just enough to get them off his eyebrows when dried.

With some amount of clarity, he looked his reflection in the eye as he evened out the cut, and didn’t know if he should be wearing the faint smile he did, or if he should listen to his better judgment, and stop making modifications to his barriers.

He knew you deserved a better life than what Hawkins could offer, but he could enjoy the innocent workplace flirtations, right? They were harmless. Little compliments here and there to boost his confidence. That’s all it was. It’s not like you actually found him attractive, right? You’d been on enough dates to know what to say to a guy. That’s all.

Though, he did need to remember to have a talk with Adrie about setting her expectations and understanding Daddy could have friends without it leading anywhere, and that was okay.

“–some.”

Jumping, Eddie said a prayer that was not righteous, and thanked the stars he was not trimming closer to his eyes when his daughter scared him. “Jesus Christ, kid,” he exhaled.

“Handsome,” she said again.

Taken aback, he let the flattery sink in. Besides last week at the movies, he didn’t get compliments often, or at all, and to receive one now while his thoughts circled back to that familiar sting of ugliness with the way other parents looked at him tonight, Adrie’s kindness matured his grin into a real smile.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked in a mild, quick laugh. “That’s sweet.” He leaned over the sink and worked on his bangs again, snipping up into the strands between his fingers.

“Miss–ouse does.”

“What–?” Her words were incoherent from her fingers stuffed in her mouth. “Did you say..?” He dropped the comb and scissors, and spun around, eyes set on her. Adrie released a high-pitched shriek and ran from the doorway. “Wait! Adrie! She said that? She said that about me?” He chased her into the living room, dodging back and forth around the coffee table. Duping left, right. Catching her as she made a quick escape to her bedroom. “Tell me what you said? Did Miss Mouse say that about me? Did she call me handsome?”

Try as he might, threatening to tickle her until she repeated herself, Adrienne refused to tell him the secret you whispered in her ear.

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

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hopepetal · 5 months

Note

surely a ghost or deer mumbo?

Read the full fic here!!

See, Mumbo wasn’t too good at this whole haunting business.

Sure, he was a ghost, and sure, it was his job, but he was never really good at much other than technology. And biking. He was really good at biking. Not anymore, though. Not since he–

Well. Kicked the bucket, so to speak. He didn’t really remember how it happened? But it hurt. He knew that. And now he was stuck haunting the stupid house he died in. Likely for eternity. And that, in his opinion, was enough to make anybody angry.

So he threw things. He wailed. He mourned the life he had forgotten. He chased the new occupants of the house around. He caused the lights to flicker. He dropped the temperature of the room (not too much, though!). He played around with the new ghostly orbs at his fingertips.

After all, if you were dead, why not have fun with it?

And he did have fun. At least, until the occupants left and he was all alone in the house once more.

It was early in the morning (or was it late at night?) the next time the door opened, and in came four men that Mumbo didn’t recognize. They were chatting loudly, carrying strange devices, and that… well, that scared Mumbo. So he faded back into the shadows and watched them.

They began setting up in the front hallway, and the buzz of electricity made Mumbo feel empowered. Enraged, too, but that was another thing. He had been working on strong emotions in therapy, when he was still alive.

Oh! That was another thing he was good at! Strong emotions. He’d figured out after a few days dead that he could throw a plate if he was angry enough at it. So all he had to do was just focus, glare, and–

The decorative plate smashed to the ground, and a high pitched beeping made Mumbo wince.

“EMF 5!” One of the men called out, “Scar, you got box?”

“Yep! No problem.” The man the first had addressed– Scar– turned on a static walkie talkie of sorts as another set down a crucifix (ew), a book, and a strange machine that projected green light on the walls.

All of that sent shivers up Mumbo’s non-existent spine, and he would’ve taken a deep breath if he had lungs. Curious, he stepped forward into the green light, freezing when he heard the man called Scar shriek.

“DOTS! We got DOTS!” He fumbled to turn off the walkie talkie box thing, turning on his radio instead. “We got DOTS, guys!”

The other three chimed in acknowledgement over the radio, having left the house when Scar began to talk through the walkie talkie. Mumbo practically ran back into the shadows, wanting to get away from whatever witchcraft that light was.

Were these… ghost busters? Was he going to get ghost busted?!

…okay. Maybe don’t say it like that. Anyway.

The four began talking again, but Mumbo wasn’t about to stick around to listen. He fled from the hallway, hiding in the shadows once more.

(Ask game!)

#this one was getting too long but if youre interested in the concept feel free to lmk and I might continue it!#my writing #hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #gigs phasmo #anon ask #answered ask

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perdidosbucky-yyo · 20 days

Text

𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛

Pairing: Exotic Dancer!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader (no mention of gender or ethnicity)

Summary: Hi, you've reached [your name]. I can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message after the beep!

w/c: 3.7k

warnings: cheating (on reader), lots of cursing, smoking, heavy drinking, weed smoking, body image issues (I'm sorry), this is a smutty fic (but there’s no smut), dry humping. Please let me know if I missed anything <3

a/n: This is the first fic I've posted in years lmao, I'm a bit rusty, but omfg I enjoyed writing this so much, it's very self-indulgent hehe I hope you love it just as much as I do.

this is not beta'd, any and all mistakes are my own.

Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged🥺

7:51 PM

“Baby please, You know I’m an idiot…she means nothing” Jake whined through the phone.

As of 5 hours ago, he became your ex but kept on calling you, each call pleading for your forgiveness and saying the same stupid excuse “I felt you pulling away, what was I supp-”

Before you could interrupt him yourself, your best friend and roommate took your phone “Listen closely you little shit, if you don’t stop calling I’ll personally chop off your balls, fry’em up and feed them to your mother in a fucking salad… it’s Wanda by the way” she huffs as she hands you back the phone, “Colorful” you grimace.

Shoving you inside the car, with you and Wanda on the back, Bruce behind the wheel and Tony as co-pilot, “Why do you even answer his calls?” Tony asks while Wanda lights up a Marlboro, and gives you a drag “Because I want to tell him to go fuck himself… I- I just can’t seem to find the right words”, “That seems right” Wanda quips and you roll your eyes, “Don’t worry you’ll find the words when the time’s right” Bruce adds, “Dr. Banner is right, tonight is all about getting shit-faced” Tony adds.

You all clap and turn up the volume to the perfect song “I don’t wanna hear, I don’t wanna know” Wanda sings, the wind on her face, while Bruce shouts “WE LOVE YOU MADONNA”.

They were right, fuck Jack, tonight you wanted to let go, you weren’t one for parties or clubbing but you couldn’t stay at home feeling sorry for yourself, partying with your friends seemed like the perfect distraction “LET’S FUCKING GO” you shouted at the top of your lungs.

9:05 PM

“The Hush-Hush Hideaway?” you laughed as you finished your first beer after two cherry vodka shots, sounds like a place where 50 year olds would come to have an affair, “Alright, alright before you keep on talking trash, there is more eye to meet” Tony argues, to that Wanda snorts “are you seriously drunk right now? after three piña coladas?”, Bruce laughs “they’re stronger than they look” Tony defends himself as he stands up, signaling you all to head to the dance floor.

You honestly loved the place, the lighting was incredible, the atmosphere was hot pink with hints of dark red and deep purple, the ceiling was decorated with hundreds of disco balls shining down on you, the bar had tables so crystalline and so red, it looked like solidified blood, each one surrounded by the comfiest leather couches. There was also the dance floor which you were dancing on now, it had the perfect stage for dancers or any kind of show, the whole place had the perfect mix of chic and urban.

10:39 PM

“This round’s on me” Tony shouts over the loud music as he hands you what would probably be your 5th drink, stumbling around as you danced to a song that suddenly became your favorite, as you downed the liquid gold you took Tony’s hand and started giving him a lap dance of some sorts which made everyone laugh along with you.

And then everything went pitch black, for 5 seconds the music was over, lights were out, for a moment you thought you passed out but then a huge white light shone straight into the middle of the stage, “Girls Gays and Theys!” a deep voice over the microphone started, “is this a gay bar?” Bruce genuinely chimed in, making you giggle.

“Tonight we encourage you to let that wild side of yours out! Please give a warm welcome to The White Wolf” the voice cheered with excitement and the crowd roared and cheered back, “he must be really good looking” you sassed, and in that moment, red ropes descended.

Not a second later a man dressed in a kevlar suit swirled down as if swimming in the red fabric, wrapping himself in a cocoon in the air so the next second he rolled down to the stage, the top of his leathery suit gone, leaving his gorgeous toned abdomen exposed making the crowd go wild. The lights enhanced his beautiful body. “D-does he have glitter on?!” Tony shouted in awe, everyone absolutely going crazy over this tall, brown-haired, thick oh so fucking thick specimen.

On the other hand, you were finding breathing a difficult task, especially because his eyes were trained on yours, maybe it was the several drinks in your system or the empowering song that heightened everything, but his stare was intense, the ice blue of his eyes chilled your spine and for a moment you thought he was going to stop the show, come down and rip your clothes off… yeah you definitely felt tipsy now.

This man knew the power he held, not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, he had autonomy of every nerve and every muscle on his body, your heart and pussy were practically pulsing as you watched him dance. The magic was broken when you felt your phone ring in your pocket, taking it out, you saw it was Jake calling AGAIN, you knew your friends would tell you not to pick up, but part of you wanted to hear him out and scream at him, you didn’t know which one you were going to do.

Leaving the dance floor and heading to the bathrooms where you hoped it’d be quieter, you swipe to the green bubble “Please please forgive me” is the first thing the man says, making you sigh in frustration “S-top stop saying you’re sorry” but it’s like talking to a wall, you’re not even sure he heard you because he just keeps on whining.

??:??

You don’t know how much time you spent listening to him in the bathroom but eventually, you give up and hang up on him, splashing some fresh water in your neck you exit the room and bump into a rock-hard wall, but then unexpectedly the wall starts talking and you think maybe it’s not a wall.

“it was rude to bail” a grave voice rumbles in your ear through all of the noise, looking up you see it’s the white wolf, making you almost choke on air, but you were quick enough to react and raise an eyebrow in response “sorry?”.

Without even noticing, the man had cornered you into a wall “Don’t apologize, you can make it up to me” he said with a wild smile, “oh he’s good” you thought, then he looked at you as if he read your mind, “you look like someone in desperate need to have some fun… let me give you a hand” he whispered, his confidence made you forget he was a stranger, and oddly enough it felt like you knew him perfectly, the thought of spending your night with him made you shudder.

Taking out what looked like a big fat blunt from one of his pockets, he dragged the little bundle of joy from your exposed thighs, up your arms, slowly passing through your neck, and finally grazing your soft lips, his eyes never once leaving yours, he leaned in and the smell of cedarwood with a touch of french vanilla made your eyes roll.

Man, you’re really not keeping your cool, but he’s too beautiful for you to care, you might as well pucker your lips, but then he backs away, taking your hand and leading you to the backdoor between the kitchens. The sound of music and people dancing start to disappear until it’s muffled, “are we allowed in here?” you laugh as he lights up the joint and takes a big gulp, your heart pounds with excitement, this is exactly what you needed.

Your inner demons whispered that he really wasn’t interested in you, he looked like he was sculptured by frigging Michelangelo, he’d never want to be with someone as big as you, plus you felt sweaty from dancing most of the night, but honestly, it was more about the nerves you felt around him, but just as easy as the negative thoughts came, he batted them away with a single kiss to your cheek, near enough to the corner of your lips “lost you there for a sec” he teased.

As he handed you the joint, you took it with hesitance, “I usually don’t take marihuana from strangers, you got a name or does everyone call you the white wolf?” you teased, carefully eyeing him, realizing that he was still shirtless unconsciously making you bite your lip.

A lazy smile spread on his face “Waddaya mean you don’t know me? Pfft I’m your latest conquest”, it threw you off but he looked so sincere it made the butterflies in your stomach dance, “I’m Bucky” he laughed, he was so at ease with that pretty smile you couldn’t do anything but swoon.

Taking a drag of the blunt you breathe out the smoke through your nose as you offer him your name in return, not wasting a second he repeats it, slowly, maybe he was high but it seemed as though he enjoyed the sound of your name on his tongue, he savored it, your legs pressed against each other and you had to take another drag so not to seem desperate as you were for him.

He might be a stranger but deep down you felt unbelievable attraction, in less than 10 minutes of knowing him he made you feel powerful, and free, like maybe in a past life or somethin’ he was your soulmate… Pfft, you wanted to crack up at your own thoughts, somehow Bucky knew and started laughing, slowly leaning into you and crashing his lips with yours, it was sloppy but fuck you’d never been kissed like that, it was passionate, you felt wanted, right then and there you were ready and willing to let him swoop you off your feet.

12:59 AM

Bucky was showing you his best moves, his calloused hands gripped and groped your body as you both swayed your hips against each other perfectly in sync.

He was so smooth, the fogginess of the joint rumbled through your body, each touch, every one of his strokes felt like a wave, you were floating in a sea of music and his scent, nothing was wrong with the world, nothing could harm you because he was right behind you, worshipping you, telling you how he loved the feel of every roll and every curve, you couldn’t help but smile and he couldn’t help but kiss that beautiful smile.

Not long after your friends found you and you introduced them to the dancer who blew their minds, some of his friends joined you, and not long after you were the life of the party, shots and blunts came pouring, and just like you wanted you became one with bucky, you didn’t know where you began or where he ended, pain and misery were a strange and unknown concept tonight.

1:55 AM

Wanda had to drag you away from Bucky to chat with you a bit, she couldn’t hide that grin even if she tried “Dude I don’t even recognize you right now” you laugh with her knowing very well what she means, squeezing her wrist you stop the urge to squeal, “I don’t know how this happened but fuck he’s just so pretty I wanna cry” you both giggle, understanding the Rachel Green reference.

Turning to see Bucky you caught him already watching you, it looked like he was chatting with his friends but he wouldn’t look away from you, you realized he was waiting for you, and honestly you were eager to return to his embrace and intoxicating scent “Fuck Jack, you have men waiting in line” Wanda practically shouts as she pushes you back to the dance floor.

2:12 AM

After a while your social battery was low and you needed a break, so now you leaned against the wall in the back alley of the bar, a cigarette lit, resting on your fingertips as you recalled the events that brought you here tonight.

You didn’t blame Wanda for reminding you of Jake and what he did, after all, she was just hyping you, but now your mind was plagued, you memorized with detail how you found them, as some sort of self-punishment, why? you didn’t know, after years of therapy, you were still trying to unlearn self-deprecating thoughts that your family and society shoved in your face.

Jake cheating on you with a leggy blonde who was quite literally a Victoria's Secret model was a kick to your stomach, it made you realize that maybe every bad thought you had about yourself was true, and that was terrifying…

Realizing that the cigarette burned itself out, you stepped on it, but before you could come back inside Bucky opened the door and grinned “There you are, was worried I spooked ya”, to that you chuckled, somehow the laws of social battery didn’t apply to the handsome trapeze dancer “Never”.

Stepping outside and standing next to you, he takes your hand and starts playing with your fingers “What’s got my sweet doll so down?”, you expected the pet name to make you cringe but instead swooned. Lighting another cigarette you take a drag and blow it on his face, and he just bites the smoke, making you giggle, after a beat of silence you show him your heart.

“About… 11 hours ago, my boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, cheated on me” you sigh, trying with all your might not to shed a single fucking tear, Jake didn’t deserve them, “Gimme his address” he deadpans, a look so deadly in his eyes, that spark was almost snuffed, but just as quickly his attitude changed, “I’ll kill 'im with my bare hands, I’LL FUCKING KILL ’IM” he shouts with foux determination, making wild animal noises that are making you laugh so hard you can’t breathe “you’re not funny” you say out of breath.

His thumb cleans away a single runaway tear, his touch is so gentle at first you’re not even sure he’s holding you, he’s so close you feel his breath on your cheek and his nose caressing your skin oh so lightly, “you’re dreaming”, you think incredulously.

In a second his touch becomes rough as he grips your face with both his hands, holding you still so you can’t look anywhere but his eyes, “he’s a fucking moron” he spits out, almost insulted, “and I don’t mean a jerk or plain stupid, I mean he’s missing some fucking brain cells to let go of someone so insanely beautiful as you”.

Your heart’s pounding in your ears, you’re about to explain but he cuts you off “And I don’t even need to know him, to be sure of what I’m telling you right now” he scoffs, “Hell, I don’t even have to know you to be sure, in the very short time I’ve known you, you’ve been everything” bucky almost can’t believe he’s saying this to you, suddenly the tension is palpable and neither of you can breathe…

“You’re driving me insane” is the last thing he says before pushing you against the wall, with a grunt he grips your waist and your lips crash with his, in a fight for dominance your tongues swirl, it’s as if Jake or any other man never existed, washed away by the ocean that is Bucky.

You loved how vocal he was being, he moaned into the kiss as you practically humped him, he bit your swollen lips as a warning to slow down but it only turned you on more. You could feel your hardened nipples rub against his chest, and it drove both of you nuts, with all his strength he pulled away, leaving you dizzy and pulling him for more, he’s never wanted anyone the way he wants you but he would never have sex with someone so drunk, even if that person begged as nicely as you were right now.

He laughs as you start leaving hot open kisses throughout his neck and jaw purring like a cat, “Bucky please” you mewled, asking him for more, his hand flew to grasp your hair in a tight grip, nibbling on your skin as he reached your ear “We aren’t doing anything except kissing the fuck out of each other doll” he whispered.

You made for a grab to his groin but he was able to take your hand and hold it above your head “I want you nice and sober when I get you to cream on my cock”, he groans as you make a final attempt to lure him in, but you know he’s right, so you huff in defeat, a pout on display to make your feelings known, “baby doll what’s wrong? you look flushed” he teases as you gasp in faux offense.

3:45 AM

The bar kicked everyone out but you still had some party left in you and apparently, so did Bucky because he’s already got you piggyback riding him to his car, you said goodbye to your friends assuring them you trusted Bucky, his place was less than 10 minutes away and you’d send them your location.

Once you got to the car Bucky stopped in his tracks, “we’re drunk and high as hell” he stated, and like a bucket of iced water you realized he was right “Accurate statement” you snort, carefully dropping you on the ground he swiftly turned to face you “so we should… perhaps, maybe take a cab” he goofs around as he steals small kisses form you “or we can walk? your place’s near right?” you reply, everyone was already gone to ask for a ride but he liked the idea of having some alone time with you, so, he picked you up and placed you on his back “To the Batcave!” he runs as you hold onto him as tight as you could.

4:05 AM

You peacefully walked on the side of the street as cars passed by, one thing that you loved about walking at night was the lack of noise, the night wasn’t completely quiet, you could still hear the cars in the distance, people coming in and out of bars or whatever, the breeze was the perfect temperature and the city lights of New York were shone beautifully.

Hand in hand you walked with your latest conquest as he so eloquently put it, conversation flowing, “I got cheated on once, it fucking sucks” You both laughed at the obvious statement “I thought we were going steady and she got bored” he shrugged, “it was a while ago, but it definitely messed with my head” he whispered as he squeezed your hand, it brought him comfort and you as well.

“You know what’s fucking hilarious though? I was planning on breaking up with him…ok don’t judge me” you laughed, “but I just stayed with him because it was easier to stay in a mediocre relationship than actually fight for my happiness…plus he had a hot tub” you felt stupid for saying it, but he didn’t judge you, his face remained the same, attentive.

Bucky took your hand and kissed each one of your knuckles “I got a really nice bathtub” he murmured into your skin with a smirk, your heart fluttered to what he implied so you jumped and kissed his cheek, holding onto his arm for dear life, content with how the day turned out.

4:38 AM

After smoking yet another joint together you were now straddling your dancer’s lap on his bathtub “It really is a nice bathtub” You grinned between kisses and he laughed, his hands roaming your soft skin under your clothes, you were heaven on earth he kept thinking, he was about to kiss you again but was interrupted by your phone ringing, which made both of you sigh in frustration.

You knew who it was, Jake had been calling over and over for the last 20 minutes and Bucky had enough of the bastard, “Answer him” he ordered, to which you raised an eyebrow “I- can’t I- seriously?” you say almost shocked “You know what you wanna say to him, so say it” he encouraged with a soft smile.

Without thinking twice you pick up, “Finally! what took you so long to pick up?” Jake barks, you have the phone on speaker so Bucky could listen, and he already hated how the jerk talked to you, making him grip your waist with possessiveness.

“What do you want?” you ask almost uninterested, “Baby please forgive me” he cries as if you could ever believe anything he said to you, “I’m so so fucking sorry, what else do you want me to say?!”, to that you let out an unamused laugh “just stop fucking saying you’re sorry, time to put on your big boy pants and take responsibility” you snark, which oddly, turns on bucky beyond belief.

Like a magnet, his lips start leaving love bites on your neck, making you gulp, “Babe let’s be honest, in a month you’ll be begging me to get back together, we both know you need someone to take care of you, you can’t be alone, you need me” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and then you really were done with his bullshit.

“Listen closely you fucktard, stop saying you’re sorry, stop begging me to forgive you, you were a waste of my time and the only reason I didn’t break up with you sooner was because it was convenient for me to stay with your sorry ass” you bark.

You could keep going but now Bucky was humming against your pulse, finding it incredibly hot how you stood up for yourself, he peppered you with hot open kisses that made your mind even fuzzier than the weed, “And I can take care of myself ass” you hiss in delight, it was meant to be an insult but Bucky was making you feel so good…

“Fucking drop that call”, bucky growled into your neck loud enough to be heard over the phone, then sunk his teeth into your soft skin, making you moan, unintentionally into the phone, before dropping it and gripping Bucky’s hair for support as you rubbed against the bulge on his pants “Fuck I can’t wait to make you mine” he moaned, dreaming of all the possibilities, of everything he wanted to do with and to you.

Despite the chills you felt down your spine, despite feeling exactly the same way, you laugh, “Honey… do you think it’s gonna be that easy?” you coo, drunk in power, you devour his perfect pink lips.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #exoticdancer!bucky #stripper!bucky #sebastian stan #carrot's harvest #Spotify

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Dirty Work 13

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Ew, Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The taxi lets you out just outside the darkened estate. Your heart lurches as you stand on the curb, the car slowly rolling away as you stand in a cone of light beneath a street pole. You stare up at the ominous facade with its cavernous windows.

You want to believe it was just a faulty wire or some anomaly but you have to be sure of it. The gate is locked, just as you were certain you left it. You key in the code and shut yourself in. The hedges and looming trees lendthe property an unearthly feel as you creep along, aided only by slivers of moonlight.

You stop and look down at the phone clutched in your hand. You search for the flashlight app and shine it ahead of you. By habit, you go around the back, even as the chirp of crickets and hum of the night adds to your foreboding.

The beep of each digit pressed into the keypad pierces the night. The electronic chime is unceremonious is the nocturnal din. Inside, there is a haze of light from just down the hallway. Did you leave it on or did someone else?

You turn off the light on the phone and drag up the call app instead. Just in case you need to call for help. You proceed without flipping any switches, careful not to make a noise as you advance. You reach the entryway and turn to face the glow emitting from the broad archway.

You hold your breath as dread bubbles up to your throat. You stop short as the clink of a glass cracks the silence. Mr. Laufeyson’s back is to you as he sets down the short tumbler, a stray droplet clinging to the brim. He rescinds his arm and wipes his mouth with his cuff.

You could sigh. It’s okay. He’s only come home early. It’s not some sinister intruder or covetous criminal. It is only him.

You could go and he’d never know of your foolish panic. You lean back on your heel as you tuck away your phone. He strides to the tall glass cabinet and presses the door so it releases. He pushes it open and drags out one of the dark bottles. You sidle backwards, stretching an arm out to feel around you.

“What are you doing here?” He sneers and stops you in your tracks.

You gulp and blink. Speechless. Caught.

“Yes, you,” he turns and uncaps the round-shouldered bottle.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I…” you sputter and step out of the shadows, “the alarm.”

He fills the glass and clunks the bottle down heavily, resting the cap on top but not sealing it. He swipes up the tumbler and brings it before his mouth. His green eyes sparkle like emeralds in the low light of a single lamp.

“And you came oh so quickly,” he scoffs.

You rub your lips together, uncertain what to say. He seems unhappy. His early return is likely for unpleasant reasons.

He swigs and strides, his free hand patting his thigh in agitation as he paces. He spins and retraces his steps, mouthing to himself. You peer down the hall and back at him. You feel you’ve walked in on a very private moment.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I’ll go,” you say.

“Hm, you do not want to stay?” He challenges as he halts and faces you, his sole scuffing sharply, “I’m certain this place is preferable to whatever sty you reside in.”

“I only came to make sure all is well–”

“And why wouldn’t it be?” He pauses to toss back the last of his drink, liquor by the looks of it. “Were you neglectful in your duties, mm? Shall I take inventory?”

“Mr. Laufeyson, I was only… nevermind,” you shrug.

“Bah,” he waves you off and twists on his feet, once more strutting away. He shoves his hands in his pockets as he goes to stand by the mantel, tilting his head as he gazes along the ornaments. Just where the camera hides. “While you’re here, pour me another drink.”

You chew your lip and wring your hands as you come forward. You break the threshold of the den and near the round table beside the armchair. You peek at him as he toys with the globe, flicking it around with one finger.

“Do take your time,” he hisses.

You grab the bottle and lift the cap. You tip it carefully but still hit it against the top of the glass. The liquid glugs out and the scent rises to tinge your nostrils. You set the bottle down and take the glass, wondering how anyone can stomach it.

You go to him as he leans a hand on the mantel, his other on his hip as he huffs. He shakes his head at some irksome thought. You stand nearby but don’t dare disturb him. He frightens you as he turns and snatches the glass.

“You know,” he begins, stopping himself to drain half the glass, “the last thing I need to worry about is this place. I hired you for just that and I find you looking at me as if this house should be aflame.”

You look down and take a step back. He clucks and pivots, stomping around the sofa. You stay as you are, rigid and uneasy. The anger roils off of him and you are the only one there to hear it.

“My father… of course, couldn’t be happy for my visit. No, never is. I swear he must’ve despised my very birth,” he snarls, “but my brother, oh, he can do no wrong.”

He empties the last of the glass as you peer over your shoulder. He grips the glass tight and bares his teeth at it. His eyes are drawn to yours as if he can sense them.

“You’re still here,” he growls.

“Mr. Laufeyson, sorry, I–” you hurry around the other side of the sofa towards the door, “I was only–”

“No, no,” he stops you as he waves his palm, “another.”

He presents the glass in his other hand. You stare at it. There’s a cloudy tint in his eyes. As you approach, you hear him exhale. You take the glass and his fingers brush yours clumsily as he drops his arm.

You look at the empty tumbler and back to him. You don’t know how much he’s had or how much more he should. You don’t drink but you suppose he wouldn’t need more than a few glasses.

“Are you sure you should–”

“Are you questioning me?” He snips.

“No, Mr. Laufeyson, I only… it’s late and you’ve been traveling–”

“Don’t tell me what’s good for me,” he raises a finger to point in your face, “left alone for one day and you presume a bit much.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, not at all,” you swallow, “I will get you more–”

“No,” he grabs you before you can retreat, his hands on your shoulders, “why…”

His word dangles between you as his question remains unasked. Terror courses through you as he grips your shoulders tight, the size and strength of his hands locking you in place. You bat your lashes as you stare up at him. The liquor clings to his breath as it fans over you.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you squeak.

He holds on to you, almost trembling. He steps closer as he draws you in. He is almost hypnotised as he glares down at you. His hands slip away only to grasp the bulk of your hood instead, bunching it in his fists. He leans, teetering on his feet, looming over you.

You are trapped in your own shock. You cannot pull away, you can’t push him off, you can’t move. You’re horrified as you wonder what he’s thinking. As you fear what he might do next.

He is drunk, that isn’t a question, but is he dangerous?

“The light plays tricks on me,” he whispers before he lets you go, swaying as he turns and finds his way to the sofa. He flops down, leaning against the backrest. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. “You are correct, I am drunk.” He takes a breath and blows out with a groan, his lashes flicking open suddenly as he sits up, “go.”

You nod and put the glass beside the bottle. You march back to the archway and stop, glancing back at Mr. Laufeyson as he drops his head and cradles it in his hands. He looks almost pathetic as he slouches forward.

“I said leave me,” he snaps without looking up, “now!”

🧹

The night is short and fruitless. Your sleep is splintered with anxiety and the morning sees you twitchy and uneasy. As you get ready to leave, you wonder if you should even bother. That rotten feeling in your gut assures you you’ll meet no different than the previous night.

Yet, Mr. Laufeyson hadn’t fired you. He only told you to leave and you can’t afford to give up, though for the first time, you're considering it. As Leslie gets your father’s coffee ready, you’re reminded that you can’t. No, he needs you, he is only too stubborn to admit it.

You set off as the knot in your stomach draws tighter. You don’t sit on the bus, instead standing as your nerves get the better of you. You rock, leaning into the motion of the bus and your stop comes too soon. You drag yourself off and shudder as you look down towards your fate.

You’re on time. Five minutes ahead of expected. The gate code works, that’s a good sign. Your usual trawl through the gardens is hazy and dull. You don’t notice the blue jay winging or the lady bugs crawling on the brick. You can only focus on what comes next. You’re completely blinded by the unknown.

Inside, the house is as empty as the day before. Not truly. You know Mr. Laufeyson will show himself eventually. You hang your bag and put on shoe covers and gloves. It’s Monday, a cleaning day.

You begin if only for the distraction. Down the hall, into the kitchen, room to room, until you reach the den. There is no sign of the previous night’s run-in. The bottle is neatly back in the cabinet with the rest, the short glass is gone, and all appears as it should be. So why does it feel so off?

You work through the room almost ritualistically. You have a pattern and you stick to it. The familiar has always been safest.

As you near the table, something sparkles on the dark hardwood. You bend to pick up the small shard of glass, careful not to let it cut into your fingertips. You glance around to see if it broke off anything close by. No cracks, no chips. It’s clear and tiny. Almost indiscernible.

You cup it in your hand and take it to the kitchen to put in the bin. Something so small can cause a lot of pain. You shake off your palm and let the lid close.

“Ah, I see you are working hard,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice rolls through you.

You tense and turn slowly from the bin. You keep your head down as you cross the kitchen, “yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

As you try to pass the counter, where he stands, he steps out to block your path. You stop and back up, your gaze stuck to the tiles before his leather shoes. He stands close enough for his warmth to cloud around you.

“Coffee,” he states the single word and in an undeniable demand.

He’s never asked for that before but you can figure it out. It must be a test. Or a lesson. He’s reminding you of your place. You can’t just barge in after hours, even if you are trying to help. Well, that’s the thing, he only wants the help he asks for so you better stop thinking so much.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

You turn and go to the cupboard. You don’t know where anything is. You clean but you don’t cook or go through anything. You open one door; wrong. The second; wrong. On the fifth, you find a bag of coffee.

As you unfold the top, you reveal aromatic beans. You stare at them. You make coffee for your father all the time but you buy grounds, not whole beans. You look around for a hint. You’ve seen people grind beans on television but they don’t exactly show the grinder; it’s always just a loud noise in the background before the balding blonde brings the metropolitan cast their wide brimmed cappuccinos.

You flinch as Mr. Laufeyson struts around the bend of the counter and slides a square device across the granite. He pushes it in front of you, crowding you again. You thank him and stare at the grinder. What do you do now?

You take the little scoop from inside the bag and spoon up a heap of beans. You hover them above the rest as you touch the grinder, turning it as you examine it. He sighs and taps a silver button. The lid pops up and reveals a compartment. You pour in the beans and close the top.

“Are you truly so ignorant?” He accuses.

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson,” you utter, not bothering with an excuse.

“It is a simple task. They train teenagers to do it,” he scoffs.

You nod and press the button that reads ‘grind’. You hold it, happy for the noisy reprieve from his criticism. When it’s done, you look around again. There’s a machine but it looks a lot different than the drip machine in your own kitchen. You go over to it and feel along the upper part, searching for a catch. Surely there’s somewhere to put a filter.

He nears again. He slides a drawer out and takes out a little metal canister. He pushes a button to open the top of the machine and wiggles it over it to say, it goes here. You open your hand and he lets you have it. You return to the grinder and scoop out the ground beans into the little canister.

You return to the machine as he taps his fingers on the counter. You slip the canister into place and close the lid. The screen lights up and shows several options. You don’t know which one to choose. He huffs and selects ‘bold’. You stare at his tie in shame.

“How can you not know how to brew a coffee?” He sneers.

You shrug, “sorry, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Mm, there is much you don’t know, isn’t there? Much I know which you wouldn’t,” he snickers, “oh but I know something about you. Something… interesting.”

You furrow your brow and look up, not far, just at his throat. His hand slips across the counter and he looms over you. His gaze bores into you as he hangs over you like a shadow. He pulls back and turns to lean on the counter, lifting his wrist to adjust his watch. He’s certain to turn his hand to show it off.

“What I know is that you’re a liar,” he states, “and sneaky. And nosy.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, I only came last night because the alarm–”

“Last night? What do you mean?”

“Uh…” you blink and look him in the face. “You don’t remember?”

“Ha,” he snorts, “of course I do. You were concerned after I triggered the alarm. So be it. I am not talking about that,” he faces you as he smirks, “you like to hide, don’t you?”

You frown and shrug. You don’t know what he means. He laughs and once more touches his watch.

“I know exactly how you came upon my watch that day,” he announces, “and I suspect you discovered a few other curious sights.”

You blanch and shake your head vehemently. Your cheeks are on fire and your whole body is buzzing. You could disintegrate right then and there. You almost wish you could.

“I didn’t– I didn’t see anything at all. I just– I just– Mr. Laufeyson, I wouldn’t ever– you’re my boss. I was afraid but I couldn’t see out from under the bed.”

“But if you could…” he hums.

“No,” you insist, “no, I wouldn’t want to.”

“Wouldn’t want to?” He echoes dully.

“I understand, I was wrong to not say anything but I was only trying to clean–”

“Wouldn’t want to?” He repeats even louder.

You snap your mouth shut and frown. You don’t know what to say. You’re embarrassed. You should’ve just told him yourself. Before you can apologise, he throws his hand up and sidesteps you.

“You may bring me my coffee,” he orders harshly, “be certain to knock.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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ziggyzolch · 1 month

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Queen Bee-atch Ⅷ (Regina George x Reader)

Warnings: hospital. i think thats it.

✮✮✮

Mechanical whirring and beeping with the sound of Regina’s leg bouncing filled the waiting room. It was coming up to 6 hours since they’d taken you in for surgery.

“Can you stop?” Janis snaps at Regina, who rolls her eyes.

“I’m not complaining about how disgusting it is that you’re picking at your nails in public!” Regina retorts, but stops her leg bouncing anyways.

The tension was palpable, almost unbearable.

After a moment of silence, Regina’s leg starts again.

“God!” Janis gets up to walk away, when she bumps into someone. “Janis!” Your mom gives your friend a hug, “Where’s my daughter?” Janis scratches the back of her head. “She’s in that room,” She points, “But they aren’t letting us in yet.” Your mom raises an eyebrow, “Us? Is Damien here?” Janis steps to the side, revealing Regina behind her.

“Oh. Hello.” She doesn’t offer the same warmth as she did with Janis. Regina awkwardly waves and introduces herself, internally cursing at herself at how lame she was being.

Your mother turns back to Janis with a smile, saying something in Arabic. Janis stares while Regina attempts to hold in her laugh.

“What?”

Your mothers smile falters, “Aren’t you Lebanese?” Regina bursts out in laughter, covering her mouth at Janis’s glare. “Uh, no. I’m a lesbian. Your daughter misheard me.”

A look of realization crosses over your mothers face before she recovers, “No matter, let’s sit, yes?” She places a hand on Janis’s shoulder, guiding her to take a seat next to her while she sat in between her and Regina.

Regina was shocked at how calm your mother was for a woman whose daughter had her leg snapped in half. Even Janis was freaking out.

“So, Regina, how do you know my daughter?”

Janis answers, “She bullied her for like two years.”

Regina attempts to lean over your mother to slap Janis's leg.

Your mothers jaw clenches, “So why, pray tell, are you waiting for her looking like you’re about to soil yourself?”

Your mother’s tone was accusatory, making Regina stumble over her words. She takes a breath, glares at Janis then starts, “It’s true, I was horrible. But I have since made up for it!”

“Hm.” Your mother grabs a magazine from the little cupboard next to the couch, effectively ending the conversation.

“How are you so calm? No offense.” Janis asks after a couple seconds of silence.

Your mother sighs, placing the magazine down.

“My daughter is not a…careful person. She’s been in the ER more times than I can count.”

Regina chimes in, worry evident in her voice, “Why?”

The woman smiles, making Janis and Regina look at each other in confusion,

“Have you girls not seen how clumsy she is? Last week, I watched her bump into two different walls 5 seconds within each other.”

The conversation is interrupted by a doctor peeking his head out of the room you were in, announcing to them that they could now enter. The first thing they hear when they go in is your laughing,

“Hey, Breakfast Club.”

They all groan, refusing to laugh at your joke. Regina approaches you first, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed and caressing your cheeks, “Poor baby. How are you feeling?”

Your mother raises an eyebrow at Regina’s behavior, but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m chilling. I could take over the world, probably.” You start giggling as the doctor walks up to you, writing something down on his clipboard.

“The surgery went well. We’ll keep her here overnight to monitor for any infection.”

Your moms eyes widen, “Can someone tell me what happened exactly?”

You sluggishly turn your head towards your mother, “I saved the universe.”

The woman rolls her eyes, taking a seat on the other side of the bed. Janis gives her a run down of what happened, while Regina’s eyes stay fixed on you.

“It was an open tibia fracture, so it’ll take her 6-12 months to fully heal.” The doctor says before exiting the room.

“She’s gonna be a huge pain in the ass for the next 6-12 months.” Janis jokes, walking towards your bed. You flip her the bird, laughing when Regina and your mother reprimand you at the same time.

Your smile drops when your mom gets up, “Where are you going?” Your mother sighs, checking her phone and adjusting her jacket, “I have a work thing. Janis, I trust you to keep her entertained. Regina,” She looks her up and down, “I trust that you won’t let her jump in front of any more buses.” Your mother ignores Regina's sputtering, making her way out.

You roll your eyes when you hear her on a phone call the second the door closes behind her. “What a byotch.”

✮✮✮

It’s been an hour since you fell asleep, Regina and Janis had refused to leave you alone, and the tension was back. They hadn't made eye contact since your mother left, despite sitting opposite each other on either side of you.

Janis’s phone ringing broke the uncomfortable silence. She sighs and answers her phone,

“Hey Damien, yeah she’s okay…” Janis exits the room for the rest of the call, not wanting to wake you up. Regina looks down at your clammy forehead, moving your baby hairs to the side. “Idiot.” She mumbles with a smile.

Janis walks in to find Regina placing a kiss on your forehead. She rolls her eyes, announcing her presence by pushing the door closed harder than necessary.

Regina pulls away, opting to hold your hand instead. “How did this even happen?” Janis questions as goes back to her place on the bed. Regina raises an eyebrow,

“Uh, bus?”

Janis groans, “No, how did you guys happen.”

Regina lets out a breath, “I…honestly don’t know. She’s too forgiving for her own good.”

Janis scoffs before Regina corrects herself, “No! What I mean is...I did everything to make up for it, but I feel like it wasn’t enough for her to forgive me y’know?.”

Janis sighs, nodding, “I sat on her old guitar once by accident and broke the neck, she refused to let me pay for a new one. Even paid for food after.”

She looks away, “I’m sorry, for the whole scheming thing, by the way.”

Regina huffs out a laugh, “I guess we’re even now.”

✮✮✮

“Honey, are you sure you can go to the school from here?” Your mother asked as she helped you out of the car, handing you your crutches and adjusting your dress. “Yeah, Regina said she’d pick me up from here, either way I could just get an uber.” You reassured her, adjusting yourself on your crutches. Your mother looks at you for a moment before slapping her hands together awkwardly, “Alright. Stay at Regina's tonight, yeah? I have a date coming over.”

You watch her drive away before making your way into the building. This place was a maze! After wandering around aimlessly for a while, you finally made it to your destination. Ignoring the stares, you took your seat in the audience. Watching the two teams solve math questions faster than you could comprehend was surprisingly entertaining. Cady and a girl you couldn't care less about approach the stands at the front of the stage. Your heart beats wildly as you watch Cady stand in silence while everyone leans forward in anticipation.

“The limit does not exist!”

You cheer loudly, using your crutches to pull yourself up. Cady looks up to find you attempting to raise an arm up in celebration. She raises both thumbs at you, laughing when you almost fall over. She bids goodbye to the team, walking towards the exit.

“What are you doing here?” Cady says as you slowly approach her at the doors.

“I figured you’d want some support. Also Kevin posted that he had a ‘mega hot chick’ in his team on his story. Figured it was you.”

Cady huffs out a laugh, walking with you towards the parking lot.

“Janis told me what happened while I was gone, by the way,” Cady’s smile drops. You’re quick to reassure her, “Hey, it isn’t the end of the world!” You adjust your crutches to pat her on the shoulder, “Have you seen the way these people move from one gossip to another? You’ll be fine.” Cady smiles, eyebrows scrunching in thought, “Thank you. When did you get so wise?”

You blink, “Since I got hopped up on painkillers, babeh.”

Cady’s laugh stops at the sight of Regina’s trademark convertible. “Come on, losers!” Regina parks her car, getting out to help you into the passenger seat and placing your crutches in the trunk. Cady stays in her place before Regina rolls her eyes, walking up to her and lightly pushing her towards the backseat. “Don’t be weird. I made a promise to be nice, don’t make it any harder on me.” Regina says while getting back in the driver’s seat.

“You look beautiful,”

Regina blushes at your compliment, leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek, “Flatterer.”

She buckles you in before herself, then starts driving. You were about to ask Cady about life since taking blame for the burn book, when you catch her leaning her head out the car, letting the wind blow through her hair. You decide to let her be.

✮✮✮

You were in the bathroom with Cady, the door muffling the horrible music playing at the dance as you attempted to pull out your eyeliner. Regina ordered her to stay with you while she went to make up with Gretchen and Karen, despite your reassurances that you’d be fine.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.” You say, groaning when you drop your eyeliner.

Cady goes to pick it up, “You’re the least mad at me, I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”

You attempt to shrug, “True. I’m bad at holding grudges.” You shuffle around awkwardly, “Can you help me with my mascara?” She smiles at you, nodding.

“You gonna talk to Janis?” Cady’s smile falters slightly,

“Yeah, I guess I have to.”

“Don’t worry,” You pause until she finishes the first eye, “Janis holds grudges hardcore-”

“Oh great.”

“But! She’s chill after an apology.”

Cady finishes up with your other eye before capping and placing your mascara in your handbag. “We’ll see. You really do look beautiful, by the way.”

You offer her a half-smile, “I’m on crutches with an ugly, obnoxious, lime green cast,”

She picks at a loose thread on her jacket, “I’m sorry,”

You shrug, “No need, I basically broke my own leg. Also, I’m on way too many painkillers right now to care.”

The conversation is interrupted by Damien storming in,

“Hey! Regina told me you were in here. Come on! They're announcing the queen-" Damien catches sight of Cady, "Oh, hello.”

Cady shuffles on her feet. You roll your eyes and nudge her to walk with you as Damien rushes back out.

You follow Damien to the front of the crowd, using your crutches to push people out of the way. Cady had opted to stay at the back, not wanting to bring attention to herself.

Regina spots you from the stage and blows you a kiss. You’re attempting to conceal the blush on your face when someone smacks your back. “Ow! What the fuck, Janis.”

Janis laughs, adjusting her tie, “Looking good dude, your cast lowkey ruins it though.”

You sigh, “Yeah, they shouldn’t have let me pick the color. I was high and thought it’d be funny.”

You look at Damien and Janis, “You both look dapper, by the way. Straight out of a 60’s sitcom.”

Your attention turns towards Principal Duvall as he announces the winners. You pretend to gag when Shane Oman wins, making Regina crack a smile.

Her smile drops when Cady’s name is announced. Janis laughs when she catches Cady squinting at the harsh spotlight shining on her, making you nudge her shin with your crutch in warning.

“Woo! Cady!”

Janis and Damien roll their eyes at your cheering. You smile throughout her whole speech, laughing when Damien dramatically gasps at her breaking the crown and handing the pieces out.

Regina winks at you and shows off her piece of the crown, making you giggle until you feel something bounce off your forehead.

“Shit! Sorry…” Cady mumbles.

She finishes off her speech and approaches your group. “Hey, so…are we still in a fight?”

“Are you still an asshole?”

“I don’t think so?”

Janis smiles, “Then we’re good”

You bounce to the best of your ability, “I am over the moon-”

“Alright-” Janis holds you up when you almost topple over.

“Over the moon.” You repeat.

Your glance behind Cady, “Hey, I think someone’s waiting for you.” She glances behind you, “You too.”

You turn to find Regina smiling warmly at you, “Hey,” You hobble over to her, “Hey, yourself.”

She looks at your crutches, trying to figure out how to dance with you when an idea pops into her head. You screech, dropping your crutches as she lifts you to wrap your legs around her, holding the bottoms of your thighs.

“Regina!” She smirks, ignoring you and spinning around. You tuck your head into her neck, mumbling. Regina slows, switching to slowly swaying you, “What was that, baby?”

You lift your head up, “You’re my favorite person.”

Regina’s smile is impossibly wide as she leans in to kiss you. You pull away when you hear Janis yell at you to ‘Get a room!’, catching your breath while Regina lightly rubs her nose against yours.

“Hey guys, I broke a spotlight, we gotta dip.” You barely process what Janis says before you catch her and Damien sprinting out of the school. You turn back to Regina, giggling when she attempts to pick up your crutches while holding you.

Cady catches her struggling and walks up to you, her man-candy walking alongside her. Regina lets out a breath of relief when they offer to help. Aaron holds you up as Regina places you down to pick up your crutches and hand them to you.

“Thanks.” You smile up at Aaron.

“No problem, Gerard.”

Cady and Regina laugh when you turn to them, wide eyed. “I’m sorry babe, I used it once around them and it stuck.” You groan, “Ugh, let’s just go.”

✮✮✮

“Okay. How’s the weather right now? Don’t look up!” You were all gathered in Regina’s backyard, sitting in a circle. Karen keeps her eyes trained on you as she pushes her boobs together. You raise your eyebrows in amusement. “It’s like, kind of cloudy a little.” You glance at the sky, giving her a thumbs up when it is, in fact, ‘like, kind of cloudy a little’.

Regina pokes your stomach, making you giggle and everybody else roll their eyes. You raise an eyebrow at Cady and Aaron. “What are you guys annoyed about? You’re basically having sex in front of us right now.”

Cady’s face goes red as Aaron barks out a laugh, “She’s literally just on my lap, you were the one face-fucking Regina.” It’s your turn to blush as Regina laughs, crossing her legs and pulling you into her lap.

She hands you a toaster strudel from the snack tray, looking away and blushing when you moan at the taste, “God these are so good,”

Gretchen perks up, “My father invented those, y’know.”

“Yes, Gretchen, we know.” You slap Regina’s thigh. She sighs and apologizes to Gretchen, unable to stop her eyes from rolling to the back of her head.

“We’re back!” Damien and Janis come out of the house, holding guitars behind their backs.

You angle your body slightly to face Regina. “You have two fucking guitars!” She laughs as Janis hands you one, plopping down next to you while Damien hands her the other one.

You signal to Janis to start playing something, you’d follow along. You let her strum for a while, eye brows furrowed trying to figure out what song she’s playing. She must've adjusted it to be playable on acoustic or something.

Damien seems to catch on before you as he starts singing,

“When I was…a young boy…”

Everybody starts laughing. This nickname was going to be the death of you.

You start reluctantly strumming along with Janis as Damien's singing intensifies. Regina sways you slightly, shocking you when she joins in on the singing.

You stop in the middle of the song, using 'overexertion' as an excuse.

You put the guitar aside as Janis and Damien get up to bow, while the rest start filing into the house.

You twist your body around, making Regina adjust her position so you could straddle her. “You’re more emo than me, Blondie.” She gasps dramatically, “I don’t think so, Gerard-"

“I love you.”

Regina giggles, “You’re such a lesbian.”

You groan, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. She tuts, lifting your chin up,

“I love you too.”

✮✮✮

A/N: That's the end! Thank you so so sos sososososososos much for reading. sorry if i bungled the medical stuff, so tired didnt proofread. anyways, I might do one-shots for this universe, or other stuff if you guys have requests. but thats it for now! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3 <3

Tag list: @itzyyyyyydaaaaaa @modernsapphicism @cheesysoup-arlo @ladyqueenxoxo @charleeeesworld

#regina george x reader #regina george imagine #mean girls imagines #mean girls 2024 #fanfic #wlw #regina george #mean girls #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #regina george x you #mean girls the musical #regina george is a lesbian #wlw fiction #regina george icons #x reader

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athforskz · 2 months

Text

Of Ex's and Oh's - Lee Felix

Masterlist

Requested by anon

Pairing: Felix x reader (afab)

Non-idol au

wc: ~5.8k

Type: Angst, smut, strangers to lovers

Warnings: Previous heartbreak, cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, semi public? (The door is open but no one interrupts) cunninglingus, fingering, edging, unprotected piv, aftercare.

Let me know if I missed any!

semi-proofread

a/n: Your bestie’s name in this is Luna. Chan also makes an appearance.

Enjoy lovelies!

Beep beep

A deafening car horn could be heard outside of your home indicating that your friend, Luna, had just arrived to pick you up. You grabbed the oversized and overpacked suitcase before making your way out of the door and to your friend’s car. She squealed in excitement once you opened the backseat door to stuff your bag next to hers. When you finished struggling, you sat next to her on the passenger side with an exasperated sigh. “I can’t believe you actually managed to drag me out of the house for this.” You said while turning to Luna.

“Oh c’mon, a trip will do you some good! I couldn’t let my best friend continue to rot in her bed for another 6 months.” She started the car back up and began the drive to the airport.

“I was not rotting. Just healing…?” You questioned your own statement.

“Y/n, you broke up with your ex over half a year ago. All you did was go to work then go home and lay in bed. You even stopped hanging out with me. If that’s not rotting then I don’t know what is.” She had a point. Nothing you did after the breakup with your long time boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend was healing whatsoever. Still you wanted to take things at your own pace. You’d get back out there eventually, or so you had kept telling yourself for the past couple of months. You know all Luna wanted was to help you get back to your old self. The person you used to be before the toxic breakup, before you had even met your ex in the first place.

“Okay, maybe I get it. But why Australia of all places? You couldn’t have picked like Paris or something?” You questioned.

Luna shook her head as she pulled into the airport parking lot. It was a short drive from your place. “Well, Australia is beautiful this time of year! Not too cold, but also not blistering hot like it is in the summertime. And Paris is just so… cliche. We needed something different for our first trip out in god knows how long.” She finished explaining.

“Sounds like you did your research at least,” you credited her.

“Not to mention, Australians are sexy!” She wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You face palmed shaking your head, “Luna, that is not what I need right now!”

“What? I’m just saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under somebody else.” She shrugged like it was no big deal. You rolled your eyes as you got out of the car after she had parked.

Hooking up with a stranger was the last thing on your list. You weren’t the promiscuous type and definitely didn’t plan to start during the trip.

After grabbing the bags out of the back you both started your trek through the airport. Passing through security went smoothly and you silently thanked the heavens you didn’t forget your passport. Another 30 minutes passed and soon you were seated on the airplane next to your friend.

“How long is this flight again?” You asked while fishing out headphones from your carryon.

“Hmm, only about 15 hours or so.” She answered.

You choked, “ONLY 15 hours?!”

“Hey, it was the best deal for a straight through flight.”

All you could do was let out a groan in response. You put on your headphones and listened to some calming music. Mind as well get comfortable during this long flight, maybe catch up on some sleep.

Contrary to your intentions you barely got any sleep by the time the plane finally landed. The seats were just way too cramped and uncomfortable. Luna, on the other hand, slept like a baby the entire flight.

“Ugh I can’t wait to get back to the hotel and relax.” You chimed to Luna while you both waited to retrieve your bags.

“Oh yeah about that..” she trailed. You simply raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to continue.

“That hotel we looked at was way out of our budget for the nights we picked so I booked us an Airbnb instead.” She finished.

“Okay, that’s not so bad. I thought you were going to say you forgot to book a place or something.” You wouldn’t put it past Luna to have forgotten something as important as booking a place to stay. She was rather forgetful when she got excited about trips.

Finally, the rightful suitcases had arrived allowing you and Luna to catch a cab to leave the airport. On the ride to the Airbnb you could tell that Sydney, Australia was beautiful. It may have been nighttime but the way the lights lit up the city was something out of a storybook.

About 20 minutes later, you had arrived at the destination. Upon looking at the small house it was cute, nothing too fancy. You grabbed your belongings from the trunk of the cab and thanked the driver before racing up to meet Luna on the doorstep. She punched in the key code to open the door. Immediately upon entry the interior was warm and inviting. The house sported an open floor plan with a modern kitchen and living room towards the front of the house. You both made your way past the living room down a hallway that led to two bedrooms and one large bathroom. Luna didn’t hesitate to pick her room, throwing her bags down on the bed as her claim. The rooms were decent size and had a pretty similar vibe overall. Only difference was, Luna's room had an extra window.

You dragged your bag into the room that was left to you and plopped down on the soft bed.

“Hey, Y/n! Can you order some food?” Luna called out from her room. As if on queue your stomach growled.

“Yeah! What do you want?” You pulled out your phone and opened up a delivery app, punching in the address to your temporary place. There were plenty of options to choose from as you scrolled.

“I don’t know, you pick. I’m down for whatever. Just make sure it gets here quick.” She answered. You giggled, assuming your friend must have been as hungry as you. Who wouldn’t be after such a long flight? You decided on a simple dinner of Thai noodles for the both of you.

“Food should be here in 20-25!” You yelled out.

“Perfect. Now which one should I wear?” Luna had appeared at your door holding up two different outfits: a mini dress in one hand and a matching two piece set in the other.

“Are you prepping for tomorrow or something?” You inquired while pointing to the mini dress.

“Nope. Tonight.” She smiled innocently at you while returning to her room.

“Tonight?! You’re going out? It’s already late.” You followed her.

“Correction: WE are going out. And it’s not late, it's only a little past 9pm.” She retorted.

“Luna, we’ve been traveling all day and I’m tired, all I want to do is eat and get into bed.” You had your arms crossed over your chest.

“We’re only here for 4 days, Y/n. Come on, it’ll be fun! Pleaseeee?” She pleaded with you.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Alright, alright fine. But I’m not taking care of you tonight if you get shit-faced drunk.” You gave in to her begging. Luna jumped over to you to entrap you in a tight hug. “We are going to have tons of fun, you’ll see!” She promised.

Maybe you’d feel a bit more up to it after you got some food in you. Retreating to your room, you rummaged through the clothes in your suitcase to see what outfit you could throw together. You settled on a bustier cami top with black lace detailing, flowy mini skirt, and strappy heels.

Luna and you were in the bathroom doing hair, makeup, and chitchatting when you heard a knock at the door.

Must be the food, you thought.

You went to retrieve the meal and set it on the kitchen counter. Luna came out shortly after to join you. You both ate rather quickly, enjoying the meal before finishing getting ready. By the time you had finally gotten dressed you were even sleepier than before. The full tummy hadn’t helped like you thought.

Nonetheless, you had made an agreement with your friend to go out, plus you were already ready to go. Luna insisted on taking a few pictures to remember the occasion before setting out.

True to her habits, Luna had forgotten to tell you that you’d be walking to your destination. While it wasn’t freezing cold, the night air was still chilly. You had silently cursed your shoe choice while walking. It wasn’t far thankfully, only about 5 minutes. Once you both made it, you stepped into the bar, immediately being welcomed into the nightlife. The music was loud and the smell of alcohol filled the air.

All of a sudden you felt uncomfortable, you pulled at your skirt making sure it stayed at about mid-thigh and covered your chest with your arms. You hadn’t been out to a bar since before you started dating your ex. He hated when you went out, always making remarks that you dressed ‘too slutty.’ Your brain was filling with thoughts of him and all you wanted to do was find a way back to your room to curl in bed.

Luna noticed your turmoil and grabbed your wrist to pull you to a less crowded area near the bar. She placed a hand on your cheek and looked into your eyes asking the silent question if you were okay. You simply nodded your head, not wanting to ruin your best friend’s night already. She turned to the bartender ordering a couple of drinks for the two of you.

You looked around the place, trying to calm yourself down. It was packed for sure, people dancing and spilling their drinks all over the floor as they bumped into each other. Just then, there was a tap on your shoulder. You jumped, startled but quickly settled when it was just Luna handing you a shot.

“It’s your favorite! It’ll help you loosen up!” She yelled over the loud music.

You took the shot from her hand and clinked it against the one she held in her own before the both of you simultaneously drank. Your face scrunched in disgust. Tequila was not your favorite but it was effective.

After splitting a full sized mixed drink with your friend you did seem to feel a bit more relaxed. You weren’t buzzed, let alone drunk by any means, but the drinks did help in taking away the impending anxiety. However, Luna was a bit of a lightweight and you could already tell she was feeling her alcohol by the way she danced.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back!” You told Luna, leaving her on the dance floor to return to the bar to get another drink. After this one you’d cut her off. Upon reaching the bar you accidentally bumped into someone.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t see you there.” The man steadied you with a hand on the small of your back. He simply smiled at you with a shake of his head.

“Don’t worry about it!” He told you. His voice was deep and when you looked up to meet his gaze your eyes widened. He was easily one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. The way his blonde hair framed his freckled face had you mesmerized. His smile was so warm. You pulled your eyes away from him before he thought you had been staring too long. You nodded as if silently apologizing again and turned to order your drink.

You quickly retreated back to find Luna after getting your order. You found her on the dance floor, talking to a guy. She was always outgoing, but got even more friendly when she drank. You stood next to her observing the man, he actually seemed nice, he wasn’t giving off any creepy vibes and was genuinely interested in their conversation. It didn’t take long for Luna to notice you by her side, “oh this is my bestest friend EVER! Isn’t she hot?!” Your face flushed, did she really just?

The man laughed at your horrified expression at your friend’s question. You face palmed in response. The three of you continued with casual conversation, you eventually found out the man’s name was Chan. After a few minutes you excused yourself to go to the restroom. When you got back, Luna and Chan were dancing. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on her waist. You didn’t want to intrude and act as a third wheel so you kind of just stood awkwardly a distance away.

Little did you know a certain blonde man was eyeing you from his seat at the bar. As if in a movie, the crowd of people parted and you turned to meet his gaze for the second time that night. The lights in the bar started flashing to match the beat of the music, the beginning of ‘Carnival’ starting to play. A smirk played on his lips as he finished his glass of whiskey. He got up and made his way over to you.

“Wanna dance?” He leaned down slightly to whisper in your ear. How could you say no to him? You wordlessly responded to him by pulling him closer and swaying your body to the music. You could smell his cologne and the alcohol on his breath. He himself was intoxicating by his presence alone.

“What’s your name, Angel?” He asked as his hands caressed your sides.

“Y/n, what’s yours?”

“That’s such a pretty name. I’m Felix, nice to meet you, gorgeous!” He kissed your cheek. Your body stilled for a split second as a blush creeped up.

Do Australians normally greet like this or is he just bold? Maybe he’s drunk?

He asked a few more questions to get to know you a bit better and in turn you got to know him. You found out that Sydney is his hometown, he’s 23, and he came here with his friend, Chan. You told him that your friend, Luna is currently off somewhere dancing with Chan. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve had such a good time getting to know another guy. You felt comfortable with Felix to say the least.

What would he say if he saw you with another man? Thoughts of your ex popped into your mind again. You quickly pushed those thoughts aside not wanting to ruin the moment.

Another song that you particularly loved came on and you turned around to dance on Felix. Now you were the one being bold. Felix was pleasantly surprised and took the opportunity to put his hands on your hips to dance with you. The sensual tension between you two had increased as the song went on. Felix placed his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder laying a gentle kiss there as he breathed you in. You reached a hand back to run through his soft hair.

The night continued into the wee hours of the morning. You and Felix had built plenty of tension in the time you had danced together. You had realized it had been a while since you checked on Luna. As much as you didn’t want to stop dancing with Felix you needed to check on your friend. You excused yourself from his hold to find her practically hanging onto Chan.

“Oh my god, Chan I am so sorry! Luna, how much more did you drink?” You apologized to the man and took your friend from his hold to stand her up straight. All she could do was smile and laugh. Her pupils were blown wide, definitely a sign she was drunk. She stumbled back, but Chan helped you steady her.

“She only had one other drink after you left.” Chan told you.

“Dammit, Luna, I told you no more! Come on, we're going home.” You told her while holding onto her upper arm.

“We can help you!” You heard two voices instead of just one. You looked over to see Felix coming to stand next to Chan. You raised an eyebrow at the both of them.

“It’s fine, it’s only a short walk from here.” You stated.

“You walked here and you think she’ll be able to walk back?” Chan questioned while pointing at your ill-balanced friend.

He had a point. They both seemed nice enough and trustworthy so you took them up on the offer.

The four of you made it out of the bar. You tried getting Luna to walk straight but it proved fruitless as she kept tripping. Chan took Luna from your hold and hoisted her up to carry her on his back. Luna screamed and laughed at first in her drunken state. You watched as your friend was having such a good time getting a simple piggyback ride. Chan was playing into it, twirling in circles every once in a while and running ahead with the biggest smile on his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics.

Felix was walking right next to you brushing the back of his hand against yours. He kept quiet most of the walk back but would give you a reassuring smile when you looked his way. You’d soon realize he was keeping an eye on the surroundings making sure your little group was safe.

A short bit later, you all had reached the house you and Luna were staying at. You unlocked the door and ushered the others in before you.

“Do you mind carrying her to her room, Chan? It’s down the hallway on the right.”

“Sure thing.” He kept her on his back and made his way to her room. You could hear her squeal once he dropped her down on the bed. Chan made his way back out to the living room to meet back up with you and Felix.

“Pretty sure she’s going to pass out any second now.” Chan said.

“Thanks again, Chan and Felix for walking us back.” You were grateful for their help.

“Ah shit…” Felix whispered while looking at his phone, “All the ride shares are offline right now. Guess we’re hoofing it, Chan.” He patted the older man’s shoulder as they turned towards the door getting ready to leave.

“Wait! It’s like 3am, how far do you guys have to walk?” You asked concerned.

“Probably like an hour walk at least. Wouldn’t you think?” Felix looked at Chan, he nodded his head to confirm.

“Absolutely not, you guys are staying here until you can get a ride.” You said matter of factly.

The boys looked at each other for a moment then back at you.

“It’s really no big deal, we can-“ Chan started,

“No, no I insist. It’s the least I can offer for getting us back safe.” You interrupted.

They put their hands up in defeat. You let them know they could make themselves comfortable on the couch and that you’d be in your room if they needed anything.

Normally, you wouldn’t have even let two men you just met at a bar come into your makeshift home but you were on vacation, they were nice, and you needed help with Luna.

You went into the shared bathroom to brush your teeth and change into your sleep shorts and top before settling into your room. You kept your door open in case the boys or Luna called out for you. A few minutes had passed and you were sat on the bed brushing out your hair when you heard a knock on the doorframe. It was Felix.

“Sorry to intrude, I was feeling kind of lonely since Chan fell asleep on me out there. Mind if I come in?” He seemed shy all of a sudden. You offered a soft smile and pat a spot on the bed for him to come sit. He came over to sit at the edge and looked at you sheepishly.

“I think we’ll be here until sunrise when the ride shares are operational again.” He admitted.

“That’s okay, you guys are more than welcome to stay.” You reiterated while continuing brushing your hair.

Felix was silent for a moment just admiring you. You got up after a while to get some makeup wipes to clean your face. He followed your movements, watching the way your top rid up slightly to show off the dimples on your back.

“How come I’ve never seen you around here before?” He finally asked.

“Luna and I aren’t from here, we came to visit for a getaway.”

“A getaway? Like a vacation?”

“You could say that. She was tired of me ‘rotting’ after my breakup.” You were truthful with him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” He apologized.

“Don’t be, it’s been 6 months and I need to get over it. Easier said than done though.” You sighed as you got back on the bed, sitting crisscrossed with your back against the headboard. Felix seemed more relaxed now and sat opposite you in the same position.

“Is that why you seemed distant at times tonight?” His inquiry made you slightly cringe.

“You noticed, huh?”

“How could I not? You would tense up and stare into space randomly while we danced.” He gave a light chuckle.

“My ex just plagues my mind sometimes. I wish I could get him out of my head.” You averted your eyes and shook your head.

“I can help you with that… if you want.” He proposed. Your face twisted in confusion, you had no idea what he was even offering.

“How?”

He approached you slowly and leaned in giving you ample opportunity to move away but you didn’t.

“By making you forget,” he said while brushing his lips against yours. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked up into his brown eyes. All you could do was nod your head and then he fully connected your mouths. All the tension that had been building throughout the night had led up to this moment. Finally kissing Felix felt so right, it sent sparks throughout your body.

His hands came up to cup either side of your jaw, his thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks as the kiss deepened. One hand trailed down to your neck giving an experimental squeeze, not enough to choke you but it still elicited a gasp to escape you. Felix took the chance to push his tongue into your mouth and you welcomed it gladly. Already your mind was becoming fuzzy from just kissing him, you couldn’t imagine how else he’d make you feel.

Felix moved your body down to a more comfortable position as he trailed open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. His hands moved under your shirt caressing the skin on your waist.

“Can I take this off, Angel?” He asked in a low sultry voice. You nodded.

“Words, Angel. I have to hear you say it.”

“Yes, please,” you whispered.

“Good girl.” He praised before removing your shirt. You didn’t wear a bra to bed normally so your breasts were on full display for him. He leaned back taking in the sight of you. Felix had been staring so long you began getting self-conscious and covering yourself up with your hands, but he stopped you before you could.

“Don’t hide this beautiful body from me.” He kissed your knuckles then returned to kissing down your throat and collarbone. He cupped your breasts in his hands and squeezed them simultaneously, feeling your nipples harden under his palm. You arched your chest trying to get his hands impossibly closer, but he pulled one hand away quickly replacing it with his mouth. He gave a harsh suck, making you moan out softly. Felix continued his actions, giving the same attention to your other nipple.

You laid helpless to his mouth’s attacks under him as you reached up playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Felix continued his descent down your body nipping, kissing, and sucking down your tummy and not forgetting to pay attention to your hips too. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your soft sleep shorts and dragged them down your thighs, off of your legs. He was now left staring at your panty covered core. You lifted your legs so your knees were pressing up against your chest. Presenting your cunt to him.

Suddenly, Felix took off his shirt before grabbing your thighs roughly and dragging your body down to the edge of the bed where he kneeled to be face to face with your center. His left hand rubbed the underside of your thighs and your ass as his right hand pulled your panties to the side. A string of your wetness connecting to the fabric of the undergarments.

“Mm you’re practically dripping. I’m going to enjoy making you a mess.” His voice was somehow deeper as he spoke and that alone made your hole clench around nothing. Felix kissed along your right inner thigh, stopping to blow air over your clit, then going to kiss your left thigh. The sensations were making you squirm.

“Felix, p-please,” you whimpered. As if answering your pleading, he flattened his tongue against your cunt licking a long fat stripe from your entrance to your clit before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking. This caused your back to arch off of the bed and a rather loud moan to rip from your throat. Felix detached his lips from your clit to shove his tongue in your pussy. His tongue was covered in your slick as he fucked it into your hole. Your juices covering his lower face and dripping down his chin as you gushed. Maybe he should have put a towel down with how wet you were getting, but it’s too late for that now. Felix retracted his tongue so he could focus on swirling it around your bundle of nerves. You could feel your abdomen tighten as your impending orgasm was washing over you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your vision went white for a few seconds. Felix practically sucked your pussy clean with lewd wet sounds filling the room.

You were still coming down from your high as he stood to his feet and quickly did away with his pants. You were finally able to see Felix in all his glory. Toned abs and thighs, his body was breathtaking, his cock even prettier as it was erect at attention. You went to push your panties down but he stopped you.

“Leave them on, you look good in them, Angel,” he admitted with a smirk.

You did as he wished, leaving them on. You had relaxed fully on the bed as he got on his knees between your legs. Felix reached over you to grab a pillow from the head of the bed and placed it in front of his thighs. He then grabbed your hips pulling you down so your ass was in his lap and your lower back was supported by the pillow. You propped your legs up on either side of him as you felt he’d be keeping you in this position for a while. Felix took his cock in one hand, pumping it slowly while his other hand came to rub over your pussy. He gave it a couple of light taps with his fingers making your body jolt from the slight overstimulation. Your body is still sensitive from the orgasm his mouth gave you.

“Hnn c’mon just fuck me already.” You were getting impatient as your neediness grew.

“Patience, Angel. I’ll give you what you need.”

His hand adjusted your panties making sure they’d stay in place at the side. Then he placed two of his fingers at your entrance pushing them in agonizingly slow before pulling them back out slightly, making a whimper leave your lips. Felix picked up the pace pumping his fingers into you in synchrony with pumping his cock. He was scissoring you open, prepping you for the stretch of his cock. The way your moans became more whiney coupled with your cunt clenching around his fingers he knew you were about to cum again.

“I can feel your body, you’re gonna cum again aren’t you?”

“Y-yes! Please lemme cum, wan’ cum for you,” you babbled out as your hips bucked onto his fingers. Felix kept fingering you, hitting that gummy spot that drove you crazy. He got you so close, right to the edge before he pulled his fingers out. Effectively ruining your orgasm. You whined out in protest. Your high gone from grasp. All you could think about was wanting him to get you there again, to take your body over and over again.

Right before you could complain about needing to cum, Felix was rubbing his cock through your wet folds.

“Hmm, your pussy is s’ pretty. All soaked for me. You’re gonna take my cock so well aren’t you, Angel?” He looked into your eyes as his tip was pressing to your hole, but not yet breaching entry.

“Yeah, s’ well. All f’ you.” You were barely making coherent sentences anymore as if forgetting how to talk. Felix let out a dark chuckle, this is exactly how he wanted you.

His cock finally pushed in and he gave his hips an experimental roll to make sure he was slotted deep within you. You moaned out at the stretch of his cock as the walls of your pussy engulfed his member completely. Felix gave you time to adjust as he picked up your legs that were previously at his sides to put them over his shoulders, landing gentle kisses to your calves to help you relax. After a bit he started thrusting into you at a slow and rhythmic pace. He swore under his breath at how good you felt while you struggled to keep your moaning under control so as to not wake your friends. The sounds of wet skin smacking against each other didn’t help either.

Your hands reached out to grab at his legs underneath you and you couldn’t help but dig your nails into his thighs causing him to hiss in return. He steadily picked up the pace while reaching his hand down to rub at your clit. You let out a loud cry of pleasure and he quickly leaned over to capture your lips with his. Swallowing up the moans you were desperately trying to let out. Now that Felix had you somewhat muffled, his pace turned relentless. Pounding into your sopping cunt to hit that sweet spot, his balls smacking against your ass. You tried pulling away to catch your breath and let out your screams but he kept you in place. His arms on either side of your head and mouth slotted against yours. Drinking in every moan, whimper, and scream. Your legs started to shake and he felt your pussy clench hard around his cock as you came again that night. You had never had such a euphoric orgasm before, probably because he edged you. Felix finally removed his mouth from yours and quickly pulled his cock from your soaked hole. He fucked into his fist a few times before hot cum spurted out onto your stomach. His head leaned back as he let out a deep groan.

You were still suffering from the aftershocks of your orgasm, breathing heavy and vision blurry.

“Felix… oh, Felix.” Is all you could mutter out.

He was panting but smiling wickedly as he looked down at you.

“Yeah, keep saying my name, Angel. That’s all you need to know.” He kissed the corner of your mouth, proud of the delirious state he put you in. Felix got off of you to find something to clean you up with. He soon came back with a warm washcloth and wiped the sticky mess from between your thighs and his cum off of your tummy. He disposed of the soiled cloth then returned back to your bed. He smiled as he saw that you were already sound asleep. A job well done on his part. He climbed into bed, pulling your body up in a more comfortable position to cuddle in. Felix kissed your hair before nuzzling his face into your neck and passing out not too long after you.

Morning came and the sun's rays shone through the window hitting your face. You stirred awake still in Felix’s hold. You could feel his soft snores fanning over your neck. The previous night’s scene replayed in your head making a blush apparent on your cheeks. You’ve never felt so completely satisfied as you did in this moment. Before you could daydream any longer you’d thought it’d be best to get up and check on your friend.

As you tried to sneakily get out of Felix’s grasp he pulled you back even closer to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He was awake and his morning voice was so deep you barely recognized it as Felix.

“To put on clothes and check on Luna.”

“She’s fine, Chan’s got her.” He said.

“Chan is probably still asleep too though.” You remarked.

“Hm, good point. Just five more minutes at least. You’re so warm.” Felix pleaded.

You couldn’t say no to him so you settled in for a few more minutes. You turned over to face him and tangled your legs together under the blanket. You and Felix admired each other in a comfortable silence. Felix started to lean towards your lips but you pulled back covering your mouth.

“Nuh uh, I still have morning breath.”

Felix let out a half-hearted laugh, “and I still have the taste of your pussy on my tongue, but you don’t see me complaining.”

Your jaw dropped at his comment and you playfully hit his shoulder.

“Don’t say shit like that!” You whisper-yelled.

“It’s true. Matter of fact, I could go for seconds.” He said before quickly disappearing under the duvet already yanking your panties down your legs, actually taking them off this time.

“Felix! No get up here, right no- ah!” A squeak left your lips as he kissed your clit.

“Well I need to kiss something since you won’t give me your mouth.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. Before you could protest again he got to work on essentially making out with your pussy. Your sweet moans like music to his ears.

Damn this Australian man, he was going to be the death of you.

Thank you for your lovely request anon. Hope it lived up to your expectations!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!

Taglist: @doitforbangchan

#skz #stray kids #lee felix #felix #lee yongbok #felix yongbok #mdni #18+ mdni #bang chan #skz chan #skz felix #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #felix x reader #felix x you #felix x y/n #skz angst

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thedevilrisen · 6 months

Text

Prompt Celly - Day Three

Trevor Zegras x Y/N

Description: "Is now a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?" ... "god, here -hold my hand"

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Would be greatly appreciated if you could reblog. I love talking to people so say 'Hi' if you want to. Feel Free to send in requests as well. I'm happy to write for most hockey players.

Warnings: None, I don't think! It should be all fluff and a bit of friendly banter.

-Sincerely thedevilrisen.

"I wasn't being mean-"

"MEAN! TREVOR, you put slime on Jamie's head to wake him up! What part about that isn't mean."

"I-well." he stuttered, smiling.

"How would you feel if I put slime in your hair huh! How 'bout it?" I said smugly, pushing open the door to the apartment block's lobby, sighing at the warmth and holding open the door for my boyfriend of close to 3 years now. We met shortly after he moved to California to play hockey.

Shucking off my waterproof jacket with a sound similar to two pieces sandpaper grinding against each other I draped it over my arm as Trevor walked through the open door behind me, waiting politely so I could straighten out my t-shirt.

Looking up and smiling at him, I offered him my upturned palm which he playfully grabbed and swung around as he pulled me closer so I stood comfortably under his arm.

"All good?" he asked looking down on my small frame.

"All good!" I repeated stretching the 'l' sound in all enthusiastically.

"Ok then, c'mon let's get upstairs I'm starving." he dragged as we started walking toward the elevators.

"What are you going to about that then?" I smiled, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"I'm hoping my beautiful girlfriend will cook me something delicious." He spoke cheekily looking down at me as we approached the lift panel. Pressing the up button and waiting for the lift to come.

The elevator on the left chimed and the doors rolled open smoothly. We walked in onto carpeted floor, I scanned to tag and pressed the button for the 10th floor listening to the methodical beeps and watching the numbers change.

Until with a jolt, the lift stop suddenly and the all the lights but the ones illuminating the buttons cut.

"Trevor. What happened." I tried to ask without a waver in my voice.

"I think the lift just broke." He mumbled, pulling up the flashlight on his phone and clicking the open door button to no avail. "That doesn't work." He spoke quietly to himself walking to the doors, pocketing his phone and trying to pry open the door with his finger. Grunting softly from exertion he turned back to me and look at my tear filled eyes in the dim light emitted from the panel of numbers.

"Is now a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic." I whispered, voice wavering significantly more than I wanted it to.

"I-maybe." He spoke quickly, seeing the water in my eyes start to trickle down my cheek, "god, here- hold my hand." he offered said hand to me and with both of mine gripped onto it for dear life.

"It's all good sweetheart. I'll call Jamie and he can come get us out." He spoke gently. To terrified to speak I just nodded, still gripping his left hand. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened opened his contacts, hitting Jamie's name and putting it up to his ear.

"Hey Mate, uhm." with a jolt, and a squeal from me, the lift fired back up and continued its journey up to our floor. "Oh, uh never mind. Can I call you back.. thanks, alright talk later bud."

When the doors opened I tore out of the lift and down the hallway to out apartment, fishing the keys out of my pocket I jammed them into the lock.

Slamming the door open I threw my coat off, kicked off my shoes and moved quickly to the living room sofa where my weighted animal was. With a vice grip on the stuffy and a few deep breaths I locked eyes with a concerned looking Trevor and deadpanned.

"We are taking the stairs from now on."

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deliciousangelfestival · 4 months

Text

Unspoken Bonds | 1 - B.Barnes

Character: Bucky Barnes x Doctor!Reader

Warning: NSFW; SMUT; PIV sex; fingering; oral sex, rough sex; multiple orgasms; spanking; established relationship; anything else I failed to mention.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , -

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

The sterile atmosphere of the operating room enveloped you as you stood beside the surgical table, ready for the high-stakes procedure.

The room hummed with anticipation as you prepared for the challenging surgery on the pregnant patient with a tumor near her baby.

Nurses passed instruments with practiced precision, and the anesthesiologist monitored both the mother and baby's vital signs.

As the first incision was made, your voice cut through the silence. "Scalpel," you calmly requested, your steady hand extending for the tool. The room buzzed with efficiency as the surgery unfolded, a ballet of expertise choreographed by the young surgeon.

Hours passed, and tension gripped the room. Your focused expression betrayed no sign of fatigue as you navigated the complexities of the delicate operation. Amidst the beeping monitors and hushed whispers, the team communicated seamlessly.

Finally, after seven intense hours, the moment arrived – the successful removal of the tumor.

You sighed in relief, a subtle smile breaking through your composed demeanor. "Sutures," you instructed, bringing the surgery to its triumphant conclusion.

In the recovery room, the patient stirred awake. You approached her bedside, a warmth in her eyes. "You did great. The tumor has been successfully removed, and both you and your baby are safe," you reassured the patient.

The grateful mother's eyes welled with tears as she held her newborn for the first time. "Thank you, Dr. Y/N," she whispered.

You nodded with humility. "It's my job. Just doing what I love," you replied.

In the hospital lounge, hushed whispers followed your departure from the operating room. Colleagues gathered, their voices lowered as they dissected your success with admiration and skepticism.

"Did you see how smoothly she handled that surgery?" one doctor remarked, grudging respect evident in his tone.

A nurse, however, chimed in with a skeptical undertone. "I heard she doesn't collaborate much. Always on her own.”

The conversation continued, weaving through a tapestry of gossip and half-truths. In the corner, the hospital director's grandson, Kyle Anderson, nursing his jealousy, added his commentary. "She's not as good as they say. Grandfather's just protecting her because she's alone."

Others nodded, some exchanging knowing glances. The lone wolf reputation clung to Dr. Y/N, the whispers amplifying your isolation.

The hospital director, Jonathan Anderson, aware of the murmurs, supported the talented surgeon.

In the quiet solitude of the changing room, you peeled off your surgical attire, the lingering scent of antiseptic filling the air. As you reached for your coat, Dr. Mitchell, a colleague, approached with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Y/N! That was quite the surgery today. We should go for a drink to celebrate, what do you say?" he suggested, a genuine attempt to bridge the gap.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed with a message: "Can we meet?"

A momentary softening in your expression hinted at a hidden world beyond the hospital walls.

You politely declined the offer and explained, "I've got other appointments tonight."

Quickly typing a reply to her heartfelt message, "9 p.m. Usual place. Wait for me."

Mitchell, accepting your response. He saw you smiling. He thought the person who texted you must be close to you.

What kind of person can make a lone wolf like you smile like that?

Your leg strides to the parking lot, then enter your sports car.

You rushed to the hotel, eager and nervous. With a quick swipe, the door opened, revealing a softly lit room. There he was, Bucky Barnes.

Wearing nothing but dark grey sweatpants. Smooth, tatted skin exposed. Bucky is lying on the bed reading a book.

As you approached, he greeted you with a smile of confidence and playfulness.

Bucky's playful charm effortlessly swept away the hospital stress and gossip that plagued your mind.

He nuzzled your cheek, “I guess your surgery went well?” He kissed along your cheek, then down your neck. He gently takes off your clothes.

You hummed. Enjoying the kisses from him that made you relax.

In a minute, all your clothes are on the floor. Bucky gently carried you to the bed.

Tonight, you just want to be close to him. Being with him makes you forget everything at the hospital.

“Uh, huh…!”

The air in the spacious room grew heavy with impassioned cries.

With his firm, large hands, the man firmly gripped your breasts, eliciting a heated gasp that escaped your parted lips. His eyes glistened with anticipation, flickering like a candle flame in a breeze as you trembled and clung to the man’s shoulders.

Lowering his head, Bucky sensually licked your swollen nipple with his warm, velvety tongue.

The room was filled with lewd noises as the man suckled on your breasts, causing your arousal to intensify.

The sensation of his thumb’s firm tip pressing against your clitoris overwhelmed you with pleasure.

Then Bucky squeezed your legs into an M-shape and buried his head in your pussy to give your oral sex.

He opens his mouth and tastes your pussy; he uses his flexible tongue. You shuddered in excitement after feeling his mouth and tongue on your pussy, you were too sensitive, and your body was shaking in excitement.

Then you felt his cock enter your hole. He slowly inserted himself inside you. At that completed union, both of you let out low gasps. “Mmm…”

Finally, he filled you up. You've been waiting for this.

As soon as Bucky entered you deeply, he lofted your hips and began to thrust.

You felt as if this intense and comfortable pleasure invaded your entire body and limbs.

Your legs wrapped around his waist to make it easier for him to move in and out.

Your seductive actions made his eyes darker. His penis thrusting more fiercely inside of you.

Bucky frowned slightly and let out a low gasp, "So tight."

When Bucky is ramming his big cock into your pussy, he also spanks your ass.

He spanked your ass cheeks using the palm of his hands. Bucky found out you like to be spanked because he felt your pussy become so tight that clamping his cock so tight.

You were fucked roughly; in this position, both of you are very tightly connected, his strength is very strong, and his cock can penetrate deeper inside you.

You felt so satisfied that you cried.

You cried in delight.

This is what you want. Get fucked that made you forget everything.

When Bucky was about to ejaculate, he pushed his cock inside your tight cunt and ejaculated all his semen into the condom.

After he shot all his semen and calmed down from his orgasm, he came out satisfied.

You orgasmed three times and felt that you were one step away from heaven.

You reached your hands to him and said “Hold me.”

Bucky chuckled and happily gave what you asked. Only Bucky could see you being cute and vulnerable at the same time.

Both of you finally took a break and slept for a while. Then Bucky felt a little movement beside him and saw you sitting on the bed, reading the book he had looked at earlier.

The book was for a big doctor's exam. You were nice enough to share notes and give advice to help Bucky understand the medical stuff.

The relationship between you two is a bit complicated. Simply put, you're like the best doctor, teacher, and supportive figure – a bit like a sugar mommy – all rolled into one for Bucky.

How did you two meet?

For Bucky, you're the answer he's been looking for.

Flashback Start

Bucky met you while working as a hostess at the exclusive club, Elysium Haven, which is only accessible to selected customers with expensive annual fees.

The hostess salary, however, paid well for Bucky, who juggled multiple jobs to cover his college tuition and his sister's surgery.

One day, the manager tasked him with accompanying a new guest recommended by their VVIP patron. Upon entering the private room, Bucky was surprised to see you.

The female customers he encountered typically wore dresses, but you were different – donning scrubs and Crocs shoes, indicating that you were a surgeon.

This detail didn't escape Bucky's notice, especially since he was studying to become one.

Bucky introduced himself, and you simply nodded, appearing quiet.

The older man, whom Bucky knew as the VVIP Dr. Jonathan, laughed. "This girl, if I hadn't dragged her out of the hospital, she would have set a record for working a month without leaving. If she complained, it would reflect badly on the hospital. That's why I brought her here. Hahaha."

Bucky was amazed to hear that. He glanced at you, but you didn't say anything, choosing to sip your wine.

Jonathan sighed heavily, looking at you, who remained silent. He felt a sense of pity towards you. If you weren't born as an orphan without influential family ties, perhaps you wouldn't be bullied at the hospital that he owned.

What made it worse was that his grandson, Kyle, was the one tormenting you. Other young doctors followed Kyle's orders and always left the challenging surgeries for you to handle.

Hoping that you would fail, the hospital aimed to put all the blame on you. However, their actions became a double-edged sword. Due to the numerous surgeries you had to undertake, you emerged as the best surgeon the hospital had ever seen.

Jonathan looked at Bucky and said, “I'll leave her to you,” before exiting the room.

Once Jonathan left, Bucky waited and approached you, asking, “Can you perform a surgery for my sister?”

Your eyebrows raised at the unexpected request.

Bucky went on to explain his sister's case. Doctors had declared her sickness impossible to be treated through surgery.

"Impossible?" That was the word you liked to hear in this line of work. You questioned him, “Do you have her medical records?”

As a diligent medical student, Bucky always had his sister's files. Every day, he spent hours in the library, searching for answers. He grabbed his phone and showed you the file.

You carefully examined the records – photos, X-rays, blood tests – and remained silent for a long time.

Bucky anticipated that you would echo the sentiments of other doctors, deeming the surgery impossible.

However, to his delight, he heard, “The reason why other doctors said they can't do it is that they don't have the equipment and brain like me. It's difficult, and it will take 9 hours.”

Your confidence surprised Bucky; little did he know you were a surgery enthusiast, always seeking challenging cases to stimulate your brain.

Suddenly, Bucky felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him when you asked, “But how are you going to compensate me? My skills are expensive.”

What Bucky responded with caught you off guard, “I will pay with my body.”

You chuckled, unable to believe you had encountered someone as peculiar as him. Issuing an order, you said, “Stripped.”

Bucky knew he had sold his body and soul at that moment. Standing up, he slowly removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his well-toned body and six-pack.

As he was about to unbuckle his belt, you intervened with a firm “Enough.”

Bucky stopped, thinking you didn't like what you saw. He blamed himself for not working out for a month.

You didn't say anything. Instead, you gulped down the wine in one go, letting out a satisfied moan, “Ahh…”

You wiped your lips with your hand. Bucky couldn't help but see your actions through his eyes, making you appear like a vampire.

You stood up and headed out from the private room. However, before leaving, you said, “Bring your sister to Metropolitan General Hospital tomorrow at 9 a.m.”

You gave him a final look, “Remember what you just said.”

After you were gone, Bucky knelt on the floor, feeling the burden lifted from his shoulders.

He knew he had just sold his body, but the price he had to pay was to have his sister healthy again.

You fulfilled your promise, and Bucky brought his sister. You immediately booked surgery within the same week. His sister underwent the surgery and regained her health, now able to run again.

As he anticipated paying the price, you didn't seem interested and never mentioned it. However, he later learned that you had only slept with him to vent your frustrations. You sought his company whenever you were stressed, angry, or frustrated.

Then, to his surprise, you again gave him an allowance higher than any salary from his part-time job. Some people might roll their eyes if they discovered the story between him and you.

But for Bucky, you were an angel who saved him.

Flashback End

Bucky tightened his arm around your waist and sighed.

You asked, “What's wrong?”

Bucky said, “The man who could be your husband is a lucky guy.”

You flicked his forehead, making Bucky scream, ‘ouch,’ then gave you puppy eyes. You chuckled, blew on his forehead, and gently kissed it.

You looked at the ceiling and said, “If I had the courage to talk to another man. I would consider myself lucky to be with you since you're out of my league.”

Bucky's heart almost jumped; it was his first hearing of your confession.

Truth be told, he had started to develop feelings for you, especially after you saved his sister.

He never mentioned it, knowing you were way out of his league. That's why he studied hard to become a doctor, hoping to have the chance to stand beside you.

‘Ring’

A phone rang, and Bucky knew it was your phone.

You never missed a call; as usual, it was an emergency requiring you at the hospital.

You said to the phone, “Give me 30 minutes.”

Bucky knew nothing could hold you back.

You kissed his lips and said, “Thank you for today; go back to sleep. And good luck for today's exam.”

Bucky smiled and said, “Thanks, and be careful.”

After you took a quick shower and left, Bucky found a message on his phone – a significant amount of money had been deposited into his bank account. It was from you.

Bucky sighed heavily, grappling with the overwhelming generosity you consistently showed him.

In his eyes, you were far too good for him, and the weight of your kindness settled on his shoulders as he contemplated the depth of your unwavering support.

Bucky never thought this calm day could turn into a thunderstorm.

When the thunder comes.

Six months later, he found himself staring at you, pale and motionless. Now, your life depended on the rhythmic beeping of the machine beside you.

His once steadfast and vibrant presence now lay fragile and vulnerable. Bucky clenched his fists, a surge of determination coursing through him. He swore to himself that he would find the person responsible for putting you into a coma.

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