#and even then hes like 'well the administration might be fine so lets just stay here then??' no you dumb fck the world is ending <3

[atomicami]

quick fix

contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader

- summary: in which joel and jerry have a constant rivalry with their contracting businesses. as a result, you’ve had to abide by your dad’s rule to stay away from jerry’s daughter, abby. you follow along at first, but when your TV stops working on the day you’re hosting a movie night, you might have to break that rule.

- content: smut MDNI, porn with plot, no outbreak/modern au, texas living, no sarah, joel & jerry are both alive (he’s not a doctor in this), contractor/engineer!abby (women in stem 🔛🔝), reader has a business degree, family and work drama, oral & fingering (r!receiving), squirting, kinda softdom!abby, reader and abby almost getting caught, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything

- author’s note: i’ve been wanting to do an abby fic with this specific pairing for a while now so i hope y’all like it! if this one goes well i might make a second part to it.

Your father was never the competitive type when it came to his job. Joel’s been known to be a humble person while still taking pride in his hard work. In all fairness, he did spend so many years of his life forming one of the biggest contracting companies in Texas alongside with his brother, and ever since you were a kid, you’ve wanted to take part in it as well. Business was running perfectly for your dad, he felt like everything was going according to plan every single day.

That is…until about four years ago, when a contractor from Washington moves into your neighborhood with his daughter with the intention of expanding his company to a second state. Joel didn’t think of anything at first when this happened. Texas is known to be one of the best states for business, he completely understood the other man’s intentions to come reside over here.

However, things started to go downhill a couple of weeks after the father-daughter pair moved in. You were at work with your dad doing customer calls for him. Things were going good so far until the phone began to ring from your end. You reach over to your desk and pick up the phone, holding it up to your ear.

“Miller Contracting, how can I help you?” You greeted into the phone. “You’d like to speak with Joel?“ Your dad was in the same room as you, working on some blueprints, lifting his head up towards your direction once he had heard his name. You had done the same, motioning for him to come over. “Yeah…Yeah I can put him on with you.” He was now by your side by the time you finished that sentence, taking the phone from your hands and answering it. “Miller Contracting, this is Joel.” he addressed into the phone, turning around so he’s slightly leaning back onto the edge of the desk.

“Mr. Jones! I was just workin’ on the blueprints for the project you wanted—wait, what?”

You remained seated at your desk next to your dad as the conversation kept going, seeing his expression change completely over what the client was telling him. You were even able to hear what the client had said through the receiver of the phone:

“I’m sorry Joel, but we’ve decided to go with Anderson Contracting to work on the project for us…We’ve heard so many good things about Jerry’s work in Seattle, and we really want what’s best for—“

Your dad didn’t even let the man finish his sentence as he immediately hung up the phone. You could tell that he was already fuming after finding out what had just happened. He was totally fine with Jerry settling here with his company, as long as he’d find his own fucking clients to work with instead of stealing his. Joel knew at that moment that in order to prevent himself from losing any more clients, he needed to take action. Ever since that day, he’s had a four year long rivalry with the other contractor, both of them making the attempts to see who can not only get the most clients, but also the best ones to work with.

Fast forward to today, and you’ve graduated from college this year with a degree in business administration, now dedicating yourself full time in helping out with your father’s contracting company. And as you’d expect, Jerry Anderson, the man your dad refers to as his competition remains living across the street from you with his daughter Abigail, who also stuck with the same plan as you after graduating college in terms of helping out her dad with his company as well. But given the bad blood that your dads have with each other, you two had to abide by their rule to not be anywhere near each other.

“Listen to me sweetheart, you stay away from Anderson’s kid, alright? Her daddy can take away as many clients as he wants, but I sure as hell ain’t letting his daughter take you away from me.”

“Abby, I don’t care who you end up with, as long as it’s not with Joel Miller’s daughter. Can you promise me that?”

And so you both did. For four years and counting, you and Abby have made the efforts to stay as far away from each other despite how difficult it may have been for you both.

However, you might have to be the one to break that streak when your living room TV stops working.

“So you’re sayin’ that it just won’t turn on?” Your dad asked you through the phone.

“Yeah…I don’t know what’s wrong with it.” You replied, pressing the on button of the TV remote again. You could see the little red light flashing on the remote, but the TV still wouldn’t budge.

“Did ya try flippin’ the breaker outside?”

“No…everything else in the house is working except the TV…I think something’s just wrong with the outlet that’s it’s plugged into. Do you think you can try to come by for a moment and fix it?”

You heard your dad let out a sigh through the phone. You already knew what he was going to say next.

“M’sorry sweetie, but I’ve been so caught up at work today…been trying to perfect a project for this client lately. N’ I don’t want Anderson to try n’ steal this one from me. I’ll try n’ see if I can stop by real quick durin’ my break, alright?”

“Yeah, I get it…I’ll just…try and wait til you get home. Love you dad.”

You sighed as you hung up the phone, completely helpless. It could’ve been any other day where the TV stops working and you wouldn’t really care about it. But today you were hosting a movie night with your girlfriends. You took the day off from work ahead of time to prepare and had already spent the past hour making a large charcuterie board that was currently taking up space in the fridge. You had been planning this movie night for weeks with your friend group only for it to possibly get canceled.

All because the stupid TV wasn’t working.

You looked back down at your phone, opening the group chat with your friend group to break the news to them. As your fingers hovered over the keyboard, an idea came upon your midst. You turned around to look through the window, eyeing the cream colored house that stood across from yours.

Now, at this very moment you have two options:

You could tell your friends that movie night will be postponed, and wait for your dad to come back from work to fix the TV outlet.

Or…

You could make the attempt to cross the street and ask Abigail Anderson, the girl you’ve been keeping yourself away from for over four years per your dad’s request, to come by and fix the outlet for you.

For some reason, part of you was leaning towards the second option. Except you really didn’t want to break your dad’s promise.

But then again…Abby does have a lot of experience with the actual hands on work in contracting. After all, she did graduate at the top of the class just like you, except with a degree in civil engineering instead. Not to mention she has her contractor’s license just like her dad and yours. Fixing an electrical outlet should be a piece of cake for her.

You hesitate for a moment, pacing around your living room as you try and gather the courage to leave the house and cross the street. This task shouldn’t take long…it’s just a quick fix, right?

Walking over to the front door, you take a deep breath and step outside, making sure to lock your door in case anything happens before crossing the street. Once you approach the driveway of her house, you see the two Ford pickup trucks parked outside. This meant that both Abby and her father were home right now.

You make it to the front door of Abby’s house, and hesitate once again before ringing the bell. You pray silently to yourself that it’ll be her answering the door, and not her dad. Once the door opens, you look up to your prayers being answered as she stands right in front of you, her eyes widening in shock once she sees you.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” she exclaims, trying to keep her own voice down to not get her father’s attention.

“Look, I know we’re supposed to be away from each other, But I really need your help.” You let out a sigh before continuing your explanation. “The outlet in my TV isn’t working, and I need it to be ready for a movie night that I’m hosting this evening… but my dad’s been too busy at work to stop by and fix it…could you please fix it for me?”

Abby shook her head in response. “I’m not even supposed to be talking to you right now, let alone be inside your house. Can’t you just call an electrician or something?”

Damn, why didn’t you think of that as an option? Could it be because you wanted Abby to be the one fixing the outlet for you instead of some random guy? Probably….

You shook your head, trying to come up with an excuse on the spot. “These electricians take forever to arrive, and my friends will be here any minute now. Please…? It should just be a quick fix….”

Abby opened her mouth to say something before she was interrupted by the sound of her father calling her from inside.

“Abby! Who’s at the door?”

“Shit…” she muttered, quickly looking over her shoulder before back at you. “Okay, I’ll do it…just stay there for a moment.” She briefly closed the door before soon returning after a couple minutes, now with her tool belt wrapped around her cargo pants. “I had to tell him it was Manny…you know that my dad doesn’t want me to be seen with you.” she said in a slightly stern tone as both of you began to cross the street to your house. Once the two of you arrive at your place, you look both ways, making sure no one else was seeing you two together before unlocking the door and stepping inside, Abby soon following after and closing the door behind her.

“The outlet’s over here…” You walk over to where the TV was, and push the display table away from the wall, revealing the hidden outlet that needed fixing. Abby stepped past you to get to the broken outlet and got down on one knee, already getting to work as she began to unscrew the plate. “This shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes. I’ll let you know when I’m finished.” You nod in response, heading over to the kitchen to set the table for when your friends arrive.

Those ten minutes fly by like thirty seconds, and you can already hear the sound of the TV playing from the kitchen. You enter the living room to see Abby flipping through the channels on the TV, making sure that everything’s working perfectly before handing you the remote.

“Thank you so much, Abby…” You turn the TV off and set the remote on the display table next to you before looking back at her. “I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem…” There’s now a brief moment of silence between you two. You notice her looking out the window and eyeing at her house. “I should uh, get going now…” She tells you this, but she doesn’t move. For some reason…Abby didn’t want to leave just yet. And you didn’t want her to either.

Noticing this, you start to feel a sense of boldness spike through and take a step towards her direction. “Do you think that…you could stay just a little longer?” Abby then turns her head and looks down to face you, noticing that you were just inches away from her now. The two of you realize that this is the longest amount of time you’ve spent together, and this is the closest you two are to each other right now. Who knows when this could happen again…Might as well take advantage of the time, right?

Abby doesn’t even respond to your question. Instead she takes the risk and leans into you, enclosing your lips with hers into a kiss. You can’t help but kiss her back and grab at the collar of her open muscle tank, pulling her closer to you. By instinct, Abby brings her hands down to the back of your thighs and signals you to jump. Once you do, she gets a grip on each of your legs as you wrap them around her waist. Abby brings you over to the couch and slowly sets you down before parting her lips away from yours and bringing her head down to kiss at your neck, causing you to whimper at her touch.

“Look at you…I’m barely even touching you and you’re already so desperate for me…” she murmurs in between kisses. “I wonder what your dad would think…knowing that his precious daughter is with me right now…”

Abby was right about that. What would your dad think of you right now? You promised him that you’d stay away from the daughter of the man that was competing with him and his business. And now she’s in your house, in your living room, planting kisses all over your body and marking you as hers.

All because you couldn’t wait for the TV to get fixed.

But was it really because you couldn’t wait for the TV to get fixed? Or because you couldn’t wait for Abby to fix the arousal that was starting to form in between your legs?

You snap yourself out of your thoughts once you feel Abby’s hands trailing down your body and stopping once they reach the hem of your shirt. She grabs onto it and pulls herself away to take it off of you, tossing it to the side once it’s off of your head. You reach over and do the same with her open muscle tank and remove it off of her before she goes back in to kiss at your exposed chest. But then…she stops. Why was she stopping?

You give her a confused expression as she pulls away to look at you, her blue eyes piercing through yours. “Listen…I’d be lying right now if I said I didn’t want to be doing this. I’ve been wanting you ever since I first saw you from across the street.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “But I need you to tell me, right now…Tell me you want this, and if you don’t, I promise I’ll leave and won’t come near you again.”

You were shocked over what Abby had just admitted to you. But then again, you understood why she would tell you this. This is by far the closest and most intimate you’ve ever been with her, and she didn’t want to go overboard or past your boundaries. She needed the green light. She was seeking the reassurance from you. She wanted to know if you were okay with this, because you both were about to break the rules, and there’s no turning back once it’s done.

But little did she know that you’ve been wanting the same thing. You’ve been wanting Abby in the same way she’s been wanting you. Hell, you’ve even touched yourself at night before with her on your mind. But she doesn’t need to know that. Instead, you just shake your head and grab onto her broad shoulders, pulling her in towards you for another kiss. “I want this, Abby, please…you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen.”

And before you know it, she’s stripped you from the rest of your clothes until you were just in your underwear. Abby was completely taken aback by the sight of you right now. “God…you’re so beautiful…” She mutters out as she begins to kneel down in front of you. “It should be a crime to keep this away from me.”

All you could do at this point was whine in response. The ache that was growing in between your legs was making it so difficult for you to even comprehend what Abby was saying to you right now. You desperately needed her to alleviate that feeling.

“Abby…p-please…need you so bad…”

You heard the blonde let out a chuckle in response. “I know baby, I know…Let’s see what I’m working with, yeah?” She then reaches up to your waist and grabs at the band of your underwear removing it off of you in one pull before spreading your legs open, revealing your pussy to her. The view that was in front of her right now was a sight for sore eyes. You were completely soaked for her, she could easily see the wetness gushing out of your pussy and trailing itself down to the leather of the couch. You tried to hold back a moan as you felt Abby’s fingers gently press against your folds and slowly spread them open to get a better look.

“Fuck, you’re so wet…is this really all for me?” She asks in surprise, looking up at you. You nodded in response. “It’s all for you Abs, please….need you to fix this…”

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll fix it for you.” she murmurs in response as she begins to scatter more kisses on your inner thighs, slowly inching her face closer to your heat. “I’ll make it all better for you, yeah?” And with that she begins to insert one of her fingers into your tight pussy, causing another whimper to escape from your mouth. You were so wet for her that she was easily able to slide her finger into you without struggling. It didn’t take long for her to slide a second finger in. “Atta girl…you’re taking my fingers so well…I wish I could’ve fixed this a lot sooner.” Abby then leans in and wraps her lips around your throbbing clit, not stopping the movements of her fingers.

You grab onto the armrest once you feel the sensation of her mouth on your clit. Her fingers were curling themselves into your cunt so hard that it’s practically causing friction in your g spot. Feeling heavy in your head, you slowly bring it down to see the sight of her beneath you. You spread your legs out a little more to give Abby some room, with your right leg hooking itself over the armrest of the couch. She’s been so fixated on eating out your cunt that the movement slightly startles her a bit. With her mouth still sucking onto your clit she looks up at you once again and you could’ve sworn that her fucking pupils just dilated. Abby was getting completely drunk on your pussy, and you were getting drunk from the overstimulation she was giving you.

You feel Abby’s mouth briefly remove itself from your clit, quickly replacing it with her thumb to keep you stimulated. She then brought herself up to tend to one of your tits, gently kissing and biting onto it as she continued to finger your cunt senselessly. It came to the point where the all of contact that Abby was giving you right now was slowly starting to consume you. Your pussy began to clench and contract around Abby’s thick fingers, indicating that you were starting to get close. She immediately noticed and took her mouth off of your breast, and went back down to your needy cunt to finish you off.

“Abby…” you moan out to her, your voice getting tense. “I-I’m getting close.”

“I know you are, angel. I’m gonna help you get there, yeah?” She tells you reassuringly as she presses her free hand onto your lower stomach. “Just ride my fingers out for me, baby, just like that.”

Abby then brings her mouth back to your swollen clit as she speeds the pace of her fingers. You follow her instructions and grind your hips against them, desperately trying to approach your climax.

However, you start to get an unusual feeling deep in the pit of your stomach as you began to get closer. The pressure was more intense than what you’re used to, for some reason it didn’t feel right. You felt like your body was on fire.

This led you to tell Abby to stop right at the last minute. “W-Wait, Abby, stop I— Fuck!”

But it was too late. Your body already did its deed before the words could get through your mouth. Your cunt pulsed hard against her fingers before going completely overboard on its climax. You throw your head back in pleasure and shut your eyes, whines and whimpers escaping your mouth as you cum all over Abby’s mouth and fingers. Her fingers soon start slowing it’s pace right after. She then removes her mouth and fingers from your pussy, gently stroking your trembling thighs as you slowly recover from your climax.

“Fuck, Abby…that was—“ You slowly tilt your head back down and open your eyes, only to be shocked by the sight of the blonde in front of you, completely drenched in your release. “Oh my God…Did I just…”

She nodded in response, wiping the bottom of her chin with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I think you did…”

You start to feel your face heat up in embarrassment and completely avert your gaze from her. “I’m so sorry Abs…I-I didn’t even know I could do that…” She only shook her head in response. leaning in to give you a another kiss, which allowed you to taste a bit of yourself on her lips. “Don’t you dare apologize. You did so good for me.” Abby then brought her gaze down to your cunt, still twitching after it’s intense orgasm. She gently ran two fingers down to pick up the rest of your release before bringing them to her mouth, sucking them clean. “This was definitely worth the wait.”

You let out a giggle in response before leaning in to give her another kiss. “You were definitely worth the wait for me.”

Abby smiled back at you, before noticing something at the corner of her eye. She looked out through the window, her eyes widening in shock at what came across her vision.

“Oh shit…Isn’t that Joel’s truck?”

You quickly turned your head around to see your dad’s truck passing through the roundabout of the neighborhood. It looks like he was able to stop by from work after all. “Oh my God, I completely forgot I told him about the outlet.” You look over to Abby and began to pick up your discarded clothes from the ground. “You need to go, now before my dad sees you.”

The two of you scramble around the living room for each other’s clothes, quickly dressing yourselves again. You then sprint over to the kitchen to get a rag before coming back to the living room to wipe what was left of your release off of the couch. Once you do, you look up to see your dad’s truck now parked in the driveway. Thank God he was still sitting there and on his phone, probably talking a client out of doing business with Abby’s dad. You then look over to her, now fully dressed. “Come with me, I’ll take you out through the back.” You grab her hand and bring her outside to the backyard, opening the back fence for her. “Just go out through the left and cross the street, that way it won’t look suspicious.” She nodded in response, quickly turning back to briefly kiss you on the lips before heading out. This gave you the feeling that it wasn’t going to be the last time that this would happen.

But for now you felt a wave of relief wash through you. As Abby began to head back home you closed the fence and went back inside, only to hear the sound of the front door opening and your dad’s footsteps entering the house.

“Hey kiddo, m’home!” You heard him call out. “Was able to stop by real quick from work to check on the TV. Is it still not workin’?”

Well, Abby might be out of your hands, but now you’ve encountered a new dilemma: trying to explain to your dad how the TV got fixed.

author’s note: i pray that this doesn’t flop 🙏🏻

part 2 here

requested tags 🏷️: @aouiaa @whorn3y @pretty-prrincess-13 @elliewilliamskissr

2023 © atomicami | all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or translate any of my works.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us x reader #tlou2 #wlw #the last of us part 2 #abby tlou #abby x you #abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby anderson smut #contractor!abby #abby the last of us 2 #abby x reader smut #abby anderson x you

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | EX-bfs dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Word Count: 12.8k

Big big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing for me I appreciate it, bestie

Another big thank you to @bebe07011 for spitting ideas and giving feedback.

Warnings: Degradation/praise, eating out, public sex, daddy kink, and several scenes where smut is mentioned but not described. There is about 1k of words just from Dylan's perspective but its worth it trust me.

Eddie is a bit of a sugar daddy in this part, but its ok cause we all want him to spoil us anyway.

Author's note: Some of y'all are gonna make me cry with how kind you are with your words for this fic. I cannot believe how much this story has truly taken over my life. People have expressed sharing it with friends and I just cannot get over that. Thank you.

-

Your hands held a home-made cocktail on ice while The Princess Diaries played on the tv, a soft blanket covered your crossed legs as you sat with both Sky and Bethany in your living room, scattered along your couch.

Bethany often snuck a joint or two while she visited, the window staying open to minimize a smell with a 20-dollar fan in front of it to promote air circulation. It was nice to have a girls’ night, to order bags of chips and candy over SkiptheDishes, wear face masks, do your makeup for the hell of it, and just let loose.

Bethany made her way over about a movie and a half ago, and she was now explaining a stupid mishap from her office administrative position that quite literally pulled the company to a halt for 45 minutes. “I swear, you could not pay me enough to put up with those drivers.” She claims, taking an inhale from the joint in her two painted fingers.

Sky makes a sudden movement in her seat, reaching to the remote next to her to pause the movie. “Holy shit. Did I tell you I saw Eddie?” Her question is directed across you to Bethany, and you’re left wondering why the hell your boyfriend is the new topic of discussion.

“Wait, what?” Bethany asks, wide green eyes moving back and forth between you and Sky. “When and where?”

“Our date?” You interject her, a little weirded out by the turn this conversation has taken. “When Eddie picked me up, she was here.”

“Oh, I see.” She hums to herself. “Well, since she won’t show us a photo, please tell me what the man who’s old enough to be her father looks like.”

You roll your eyes at this, a cheeky thought occurring to you. “Well Dylan might be great; but he is a sequel. Ain’t nothing compared to the original.”

Sky nods, agreeing. “Eddie is… very good looking.” You shoot her a warning look, for some reason, her just alluding to his good looks makes you feel territorial. “Show her a picture if you don’t want to hear it, damn! Just telling the truth…”

“It’s not that I won’t show you guys,” you explain, unlocking your phone. “It’s that he doesn’t use social media, so he has no good photos of himself.” On the internet, at least.

“What, no throw back photos from Dylan’s insta?” Sky asks, mostly joking.

You go to Dylan’s insta, and you can’t view it. Fuck, you forgot. He blocked you. Even though he seems to be on better terms with you, simple reminders like being blocked from his social media or him refusing to tell any details about his life remind you he’s still nursing a healing wound. “Still blocked.” You look up, and their faces tell you they’re not letting up on it. “Fine. I’ll go to Eddie’s Facebook.”

Eddie added you as a friend the day after your date, adorably waiting as you went on your phone to accept it. The moment you did he went onto your profile and dove into your photos. His eyes were comically wide as he scrolled through them, and after the first few swipes he lifted his head to you. “You just put these on here? Fuck.” The photos weren’t even particularly bad, just you in a bikini on the beach or in a summer dress, he’s just that obsessed with you. You asked him if he minded and he shook his head comically, his dimples so prominent from his wide smile, he looked manic. “Oh, I never said to stop, sweetheart.”

Your thumb slides into Eddie’s profile, and while you were afraid of the calls from a judgemental relative about the relationship with him the word single on his relationship status still hits you hard in the chest. You move to his photos, past the useless profile picture that was his company logo of Munson’s Garage and swipe through the regular posts, past Dylan’s graduation from college, from high school, a picture of a nice car, an old one of his ex with Dylan, (barf), until you finally got through to a throwback, one posted in 2011.

It was taken in the 90s, so a picture of a picture of him sitting at an old kitchen table arm in arm with another dude. One of his feet was up on the table, and he was clutching a beer, lifting it to the camera. His friend was talking to someone off camera, distracted for the moment, his slightly freckled face in a scowl. His friend had brown hair down to his neck styled specifically in a swoop, and they seemed about the same age.

His friend was quite attractive, but younger Eddie made you fucking drool. God, he was so gorgeous. He wore a leather jacket under a denim vest, ripped blue jeans over his big black boots. Fuck. You almost didn’t want to share this photo.

You go to the next photo, and a giggle leaves your mouth as you see him posing with a friend, tongues out and devil horns on their heads as smiles peek through. The background is a stage at an Iron Maiden concert, and they both look ecstatic. It’s a different friend in this one with curly hair, but it looked like he had posted from the Iron Maiden concert. A few more scrolls told you that the throwback photo would be the best option.

“Ok.” You finally say, and both girls have been waiting so long at this point they’ve started scrolling on their own phones. “Guys. You wanna see it or not?”

You hand your phone to Bethany, indicating he was the one on the right. The possessiveness that hits you when you see her reaction, her wide eyes and jaw literally dropping, stunted you. “Holy shit. This is him from how long ago?”

“In the late 90s, I guess.” You tell her.

She hands the phone to Sky, who was asking for it repeatedly as soon as Bethany let out her reaction. “Oh, yeah. He was a cutie. Honestly, he’s hotter now.” Your teeth grit, and you take a deep breath in to calm yourself.

“How?” Bethany asks, gesturing to your phone.

“Ok. Enough. He’s very good looking. But he’s fucking taken.” You bark out, holding your hand out for the phone.

They both stop talking, your sudden anger very uncharacteristic of you. Usually when you find someone particularly good looking, you’d show them off, agreeing with your two friends when they would praise their good looks. This wasn’t anything like those times. Hearing their praises just makes you want to sink your teeth into Eddie’s neck and mark your territory the next time you see him.

“Woah, girl.” Sky says, laughing lightly to diffuse the tension. “Never seen that side of you before.”

“Well, I didn’t even know she existed until a waitress looked at Eddie on our date and I wanted to throttle her,” You admit, grabbing the nearly empty cocktail and taking a sip. “I just…I don’t know why I’m so territorial over him, but God, the thought of him with someone else makes me sick to my stomach.”

Bethany holds her hands up in surrender, “Alright, we won’t compliment him anymore. But you did good, girl. You did mighty good.”

-

As per usual, the girls'-day-in resulted in the three of you falling asleep in the living room, blankets and pillows scattered across the three of you. The sun cascading through a window by the couch wakes you up, disgruntled, as you pat around for your phone. The screen greets you harshly, your notifications indicating you have three messages from Eddie, two from a manager at work, and the several random ones, which you clear out, not caring about Instagram stories for the moment. Eddie texted to say he was going into work for a few hours. The next two messages indicated if you were there when he got home, he wouldn’t be against it.

Basically, he just told you to please be there when he got home. Fuck, the feeling of him reaching out first was enough to send a wide smile to your face, staring stupidly at your phone. You message him back, letting him know you’ll be there.

The messages from your manager were one from two hours ago, asking if you’d be able to come in for 10 o’clock– Which was thirty-five minutes ago– and the second asked if you were able to come in at all. You quirk your eyebrow, glad your read receipts are off for her, because you’re planning now to text at 3 o'clock to let her know that, oops, you just saw this. No, you’re not going in on your day off, you’ll be spending it with your ridiculously hot boyfriend.

You leap from your couch, running into your room to pack another overnight bag. You’re out the door before the others even stir.

As you pull into Eddie’s driveway, you notice Dylan’s truck there, but Eddie’s is still gone. You wonder when he’ll be back, because although Dylan is civil towards you, interactions with him are still stunted. You open the front door, grateful Dylan tended to leave it unlocked. You drop your overnight bag and pillow off at the staircase, its usual spot, before you trot off to the living room where Dylan sits watching tv.

As you plop down next to him on the other side of the couch, Dylan looks to you, startled by the movement, but his eyes roll in exasperation when he realizes that it’s you. “Hi.” You sing-song to him, knowing you’re annoying him, but having fun with it anyways.

“Hey.” He deadpans, watching the tv instead of looking over to you.

“Oh, wow you’re almost caught up.” You say, indicating to a show that you had recommended he watched a while back.

“Turned out to be a good show.” He comments, sounding annoyed.

“Well, how about that?” You retort, and Dylan rolls his eyes before a small smile lands on his face.

Progress.

Less than an hour later, the front door closes, indicating Eddie’s homecoming. He walks in, and as you pay attention to a particularly good episode in this series, you hear a big stretch come from him. “Hi, Ed!” You call out, finally turning towards him.

Fuck. Holy shit.

A few grease stains paint Eddie’s hands and chin, and he’s wearing a pair of blue coveralls from work with a patch on his chest of his name. The grease monkey suit shows off his muscles beautifully, both sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair is tied back into a messy bun, and you’re sure he forgot about the reading glasses on his head. Oh god, he is mouth watering.

A throw pillow hits your face, completely startling you. You whip your head around, glaring at  the culprit. “Little drool.” Dylan mouths, pointing to his chin.

“Oh, little drool?” You mock, getting up to hit him with the pillow hard. He chuckles, fighting you off.

You push his shoulder off, shuffling into the kitchen. You turn to see Eddie moving around the kitchen, making himself a quick sandwich. “Hi baby!” You greet him, reaching out for him.

“Oh, hi baby.” He says, following up with an air kiss. He breaks into laughter at your scowl. “Sorry, you don’t want this grease on you. It smells terrible and it’s not fun to wash off.”

“But there’s no grease on your lips.” You point out, staring at those pretty pink lips of his.

“Baby, I cannot kiss you without touching you and there is grease all over my hands.” He chuckles, holding them out.

You want to point out that he’s getting things dirty with grease in the kitchen, including his sandwich, by his own logic, but you have a feeling you won’t get away with it very easily. “Fine. Come see me when you’ve had a shower then.” You tell him, attempting to waddle back to the living room.

“Ah, ah.” Eddie tuts, grabbing your hand. “Come with me, after I shower, I need time with you in my bed.”

“In your bed? Or, in your bed?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing suggestively at the second option.

“If you didn’t know the answer by now, clearly I haven’t done my job right.” He says in a lowly, his eyes darkening in an instant.

Eddie turns around to the sandwich he made as if he hadn’t said a word, grabbing it quickly before tugging on your hand to take you up the stairs.

He hops into the shower, you scroll through your phone on his bed as you wait, somewhat impatiently, your panties already uncomfortable from his stroll into the house in his work uniform.

Fuck, he was hot. You thought about him. His muscles, the slight glisten of sweat, and your phone was tossed aside before you even realized your hands were roaming over your body. You close your eyes, the image of him busy at work on his back on one of those…rolly things in your head. His forearms flexing, the look of concentration on his face.

Your hands itch for your center and you can barely hold back anymore, thankful you opted for a pair of stretchy shorts. Your fingers graze your center easily, rolling around in small circles as you picture the easy access his coveralls would give you, showing up with a dress and no panties and just riding him in his office. Fuck, maybe you wouldn’t even make it there. Goddamn, the images were too hot, your panties finding their way around your ankles as you grind up against your own fingers.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes fling open to see your boyfriend in his towel. You were so wrapped up you didn’t even notice the water from his shower turn off. He’s staring, open mouthed and eyes dark, and Jesus… This was a fantasy of yours from the beginning. You continue, staring half lidded back at him, hand grabbing up at his bed frame when it started to feel so fucking good.

Eddie’s towel drops when his brain catches up, jumping into his bed to lay next to you. “Couldn’t even wait, huh?” He asks, and you let out a whimper as he lightly kisses your neck. “Just couldn’t fucking wait.”

“You were so hot—” you gasp out, moving faster on yourself now. “—in that goddamn uniform. Wanna…wanna ride you in it.”

The very indication that you were playing with yourself because you found him that hot in his uniform is too much for Eddie to process. He nearly moans, leaning for another kiss on your neck. His hands are itching to help you, itching to take off the rest of those clothes that hide your gorgeous body, but he holds back, needing to know more about it. “What—what were you thinkin’ ‘bout, baby?”

“You, in the uniform…” you tell him, your hips starting to move when your want grows. Why isn’t he helping?

“C’mon, baby. I wanna touch you but I just gotta know.” Eddie tells you, his voice gruff.

A gulp moves through your throat before opening your mouth to tell him. “Your dick out of the uniform, and me with no panties and a dress at your shop, riding you anywhere…your office, the rolly thing, god, just you in that uniform…Ed…”

Goddammit, was that an idea Eddie certainly had before. He has wanted to show you around his workplace, but also christen it with you, and he had had the exact idea with his uniform and you in a dress, to boot. “Fuck, my horny, eager little slut, hey?” Eddie asks, watching your closed eyes as you continue to work yourself.

“Please…please touch me?” You ask him, the torture of his voice there but not actually helping you is too much. “Want…want you.”

“Hmm. Horny little slut didn’t wait for me…I dunno if she even deserves my help.” He bluffs, wanting nothing more than to reach out and feel the slick of your wet pussy.

You nearly cry out in protest, not calling him on his bluff. “I’m sorry, couldn’t help myself…you’re just so…fuck…you’re so fucking hot, Ed.”

He leans in to kiss you and you accept it gratefully, a smile against his lips. As his lips move against yours, deepening the kiss to easily work his tongue against yours, his hands land on yours against your pussy delicately, gently pulling your fingers to the side. He slides a digit in and you whimper into his mouth, your hips thrusting up. “Oh, so fucking desperate.” You nod your head, agreeing with him. You’re desperate for more. Even with Eddie on your mind, your fingers never even compared to his.

He leans into your neck, the scent of his aftershave and body wash strong but oh-so-goddamn good. He slides your shirt up your torso smoothly with his free hand and pulls it from your neck fiercely. You feel his hand somewhat desperately go around your back to unhook your bra, and as it falls casually over the edge onto the floor, he moans at the sight of your exposed tit, your nipple just begging to be touched.

He leans in to mouth the bud, and you whimper at the sensation. He pauses, breathing heavily and open mouthed onto it. You gasp, his hot breath sending waves down your body. “Fuck, so pretty.” Eddie mutters to himself, dark eyes watching your face as you get closer.

A desperate hand of yours tugs him up to your face, desperate for more of his wet and hypnotizing kisses. “Fuck me.” You gasp, suddenly feeling that his fingers weren’t enough. “Need…need your cock. Please.”

Eddie’s mouth opens at the prospect of you simply begging for him, and you can feel a shift in his energy as he starts to kiss you deeper and hungrier. “When you beg so sweetly, how could I possibly say no?” He hums, his hand framing your face.

He finishes yanking the last of your pants off your ankles. As he settles himself in between your legs, he can’t help himself. He leans down, taking one long lick along your folds, for just a taste. You whimper in response, knees springing up to your chest. Eddie chuckles, crawling up slowly until his chest lines up with yours, the tingle of him against you too much to handle. Slowly, he moves into you, and as he stretches you open, your eyes roll back and your toes curl. Eddie watches the utter bliss that takes over your face.

“Oh that beautiful face you make, sweetheart.” He grunts, smoothing his hands over your forehead. His words make you pulse around him. “This fucking tight little pussy wrapped around—” he stops, grunting as you continue to pulse around him. One hand moves down to your hip, caressing it softly he uses the leverage to buck into you.

A hushed swear comes out of you, the simple pleasure from his cock alone sending you into euphoria. Eddie continues slowly, enjoying every inch of your heat around him. “Your pussy…god how did I live without it?”

You clutch onto him, staring up into his darkened brown eyes. You open your mouth to respond in kind, but the particularly harsh rut into you leaves your mouth gasping open and your eyes fluttering shut in pure heaven. “Oh, that’s it.” He mutters, hips moving faster. “That’s my cock-drunk little whore.”

Your nails scratch down his back, and he moans in response. “Eddie, your cock. There’s…I…please.”

“I-I know, baby. I know.”

He collapses onto your chest, and you feel his cock twitch into you as your orgasm takes over your body. His hand carefully sweeps your sweaty forehead as he watches you recover, your eyes losing their haze as you return to earth. “Hi.” He mutters, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Hi.” You smile. For once, he does take his dick out of you right away, despite your protests. However, you can’t protest any further when he comes back and wraps his arms around you with his chest pressed against your back, his still steadying breaths lulling you into a quiet nap.

Somehow, you know that his arms are always going to be the best place in the world.

-

About an hour later, you’re snuggled against his side, legs intertwined as Eddie watches his show and you work on a crossword puzzle. “What’s a six-letter word for angry?” You ask him, stumped for a good minute.

“Uh…grumpy? Heated? Hmm…raging?”

“Raging! Fuck, I couldn’t get that one. Thanks, baby.” You tell him, receiving a kiss on the head as a response. “Why’d you go in for work, Ed?”

“Other than making my baby horny?” He jokes, muttering it into your hair. “Well, one of my best-known clients called and my men know that when he calls, they need to call me in, because his car is just—” he cuts himself off, holding out the OK sign. He continues talking about the mechanics/politics of handling a car like this in his job. The caliber, the horsepower, the specialized engine, and everything else.

It’s not like you know a whole lot about cars. Most of what he is saying comes out as gibberish. But you listen to him, watching as he gets more and more animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he excitedly explains his morning. You watch him, a soft smile creeping up your face as he describes…what, you weren’t even sure, to you.

He stops as he notices the peculiar look on your face, your eyes glazed over. “What?” he asks, wondering if you caught even a word of his story.

“I love you.” It comes out before you even realize. But it’s true.

With your whole chest, you love him.

Eddie inhales sharply, and he looks at you like you had placed each star in the sky just for him. Because you did. “I-I’ve been wanting to say that to you since I first saw you.”

His words feel both impossible and like they make the most sense in the entire world. Because since day one, you have been captivated by him in every sense imaginable. Taking the time to get to know, see and love every inch of him before recognizing that yes, this is love.

This all occurs to you within a second, because Eddie’s hand is framing your face and you feel his lips on yours, deep and caring to a point that takes your goddamn breath away. Your tongue collides with his, and his fingers are so gentle as they cradle your face it barely feels like he’s holding it. He tastes so good, like the air you breathe is suddenly useless, and all you need to do is breathe him. His fingers intertwine in your hair, he gasps as his forehead collides with your own, clinging onto you for dear life.

“Will you say it?” You ask, realizing he still hasn’t.

“I fucking love you.” He says in a low, soft voice. He uses a hand to force you back and you open your eyes to look into his beautiful brown ones. “I love you.”

Your chest inflates rapidly, like all the emotion just bursts into it. A giggle escapes your lips, the smile on your face seeming to be permanently etched there. He tugs you into the tightest hug, and you feel his heart beat rapidly against your own as your arms fling themselves around his torso, burying your head in his neck.

God, it’s like you fit perfectly there.

He slouches down, ignoring the book you dropped and the forgotten tv show, and lays you down, chest to chest, his arms wrapped around you as you curl into his chest. He nestles his nose into your hair, breathing you in, feeling the breath, the life in you as you breathe in sync with him.

Any sense of time, responsibilities, or the outside world become muted and pale in comparison.

It’s just you and him.  

-

The sizzling sounds of bacon for dinner mixed with Eddie’s humming to some oldies fill the kitchen. Every time he turns around from the stove to grab something, he shoots you a smile that captivates his face, something that you wholeheartedly return each time. The acknowledgement that this is love somehow didn’t feel like it had tied you to anything or that any new expectations were put on either one of you. You simply want his company and he, yours.

You scroll through your phone absentmindedly, though the sight of his hips in his low sitting sweatpants are much more enticing than anything your phone’s algorithms have to show you. Playfully, Eddie keeps dancing a little too hard to the music, head banging and swinging his hips to even the softest of Dad Rock.

God, it’s Heaven. As Eddie serves up a few plates, Dylan comes down dressed in one of his better date night outfits.

“Ooh, hot date?” You ask him, leaning forward onto the kitchen island.

Dylan’s brows furrow, stopping mid stride. “Yeah. Not talking to you about that. You’re still my ex. And you’re still seeing my dad. Weirdo.”

Eddie sends a glare his way, eyes darkening in a split second. Dylan rolls his eyes, sneaking around him to grab a bite of bacon. Ignoring it, Eddie places a plate in front of you with eggs, bacon and toast, and you thank him as he leans in for a kiss.

“Love you.” Eddie mutters, and you smile into his lips and feel him do the same.

“L-love?” Dylan spits out, his voice exasperated. He shakes his head, still chewing on the bacon. “Fuck right off.”

“Dyl.” Eddie starts, leaning forward as he takes a bite from his toast. He has a devious smile on his face, chewing on his idea. “Quiet. The adults are talking.”

If you had expected something out of pocket, it certainly wasn’t that.

The brown eyes Dylan shares with his father widen in pure exasperation. “What?? Dad, I’m six months older than her!”

You barely keep in the laughter that bubbles out of your chest. Eddie grins at you and lets out his own chuckle. “That’ll teach you to be an ass, huh?”

Dylan doesn’t respond, just grits his teeth and yanks one more piece of bacon before leaving through the front door.

-

Dylan Munson got dealt a dirty fucking hand from whoever the fuck is in charge of this shit.

It was only a mere nine weeks ago when you made your way across the mixer to say hi to him that he thought things were going his way. The more he saw you, the more he thought that this had to be leading to something. It made sense to him, but as he had started mentioning long term plans or anything of the like, he could feel you clam up. Every time he mentioned something requiring commitment, your shoulders tensed up, your face winced by only a smidge, but when it became a regular occurrence, Dylan realized you might not have been ready as you thought you were.

He was willing to accept it. So, he took matters into his own hands. Honestly, he would’ve been fine paying the daily fee for parking, but he knew his dad was there, and he was excited to introduce you to him. Boy, what a shit show that turned out to be.

As he woke up to an empty bed, he had expected you to be downstairs. Instead, he was faced with a bowl of cereal without the milk, and he couldn’t tell how long it had been there. He searched the whole house. Your bag, clothes, and shoes were still there, so he knew you couldn’t have gone far. Turns out, he was right. You didn’t. You went two doors down from his own.

The sight of you and his fucking dad in the white sheets was already too much to bear, and then the stab of betrayal from his own father hurt more the initial shock of yours, tugging angry tears from his eyes as he ran to his room. The torture of hearing your whimpers, a sound he knew well, while downstairs trying to cheer himself up was fucking brutal.

When you finally left, his dad came home with a terribly apologetic look on his face as he walked through the front door. Dylan refused to hear a damn word out of his mouth, dismissing all his claims of ‘holding back as long as he could’ and ‘I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before.’ Shit just hurt.

A day later, Dylan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He screamed at the top of his lungs, the anger finally kicking in. His dad did yell back, but mostly at the choice words aimed at you. It hurt for a moment, as it felt like he cared more about someone he had met last week, his (now ex) girlfriend.

When you and his dad showed no signs of slowing or stopping any time soon, he realized this would become a new normal. Didn’t mean he liked it.

He came home after a relatively long day at work to you and his dad sitting and watching a movie comfortably. His knee jerk reaction was to swear angrily, but the look on your face stuck with him. You had never relaxed with him. You were always looking around corners or there was some part in your body unable to lean into him completely.

As you apologized awkwardly on his bed, his hurt finally felt acknowledged by you, and fuck, he needed to hear that he didn’t do anything wrong. He genuinely started to wonder if he did.

Most of his nights he spent going out, his friends asking where the hot new girlfriend he was bragging about now was. He just said you cheated on him and it was over and they called you a bitch and moved on.

Yes, even Ethan. (The one friend you actually liked)

He drowned his sorrows in alcohol, always making his way back to the house where his ex was expected to be at any given time. God, it was so shit.

After your apology, though, he had to admit, you looked good together. It seemed like his dad’s smile just hadn’t left his face for days, and goddamn, was it annoying to admit that you were good for him. That remaining anger seemed to itch at him, unable to forgive or forget, a buried hatchet with an X to mark the spot.

Ethan eventually brought his girlfriend to boys’ night out, which was met with disgruntled groans from the collective group. Ethan’s girlfriend invited a friend who would be joining, and Dylan fought hard not to roll his eyes.

An hour into the night, a drink, and a few good dances in, Ethan’s girlfriend brought her in, and Dylan stopped dead in his tracks. Okay, no one said she would be fucking gorgeous.

If Dylan thought you were out of his league, then Maya wasn’t even playing the same game. His heart pounded out of his chest, and he knew he had to grab this girl a drink and get her number, now. As he pulled into an easy conversation with her, the hairs stood on his arms as it felt electric just being near her.

Maya met his enthusiasm, agreeing to a date within the first hour of conversation with him. One of his buddies mentioned Dylan had been cheated on by his most recent girlfriend, and Maya was floored. If any girl was lucky enough to have him, how could they even think of cheating?

As Dylan rode home in the backseat of his friend’s truck, drunk on her undivided attention and, well, plain ol’ drunk, something his dad had said came to mind. “I can’t explain it, I just had to know her. In every sense of the word.”

He felt the same way about Maya. Everything about her drew him in. Her smell, the way her jeans hugged her hips, the shine of her red hair. God, she was fucking beautiful.

As he smelled bacon on the way down the stairs, he decided to grab a piece on his way out to his first date with Maya, jitters galore. You asking him about the date was kind, but still too weird for him to gush about the gorgeous girl from the bar he met when that ‘gorgeous girl’ was once you.

Love you, his dad said. The word struck him, it occurred to him he doesn’t truly understand how much you and his father cared for one another. The L word didn’t come easily to Munson men, after all. Dylan walked to his car, disgruntled as the interaction rolled over in his mind.

What a mess he would be bringing her home to, if he ever got lucky enough.

-

Since you worked the next day, you had to go home for the night. The lingering kisses at Eddie’s door were too much to bear.

Too much for Eddie, too. You get a text about twenty minutes after you get home, Need you.

You grit your teeth, you need him, too. Working four days in a row sounds manageable, at least it usually does. Without Eddie to come home to or to wake up with, it’s nearly torture. You ignore Skylar’s comment of codependency. Fuck co-dependency, it isn’t that you depend on him too much, you just need him too much. You need to come home to him, to sit and watch tv with him… It’s the domestic bliss you miss.

Somehow, just reading a book at the end of the night without his even breaths has you on edge. You shoot him a text letting him know you’d be there soon.

As you walk through the doorway of Eddie’s house, he welcomes you and you hop into his arms, inhaling his shampoo as soon as you get close enough to, his familiar scent bringing you an indescribable feeling of safety.  “Need you to stop leaving for so long.” He mutters, feeling nearly crazy for missing you so much while you were gone.

You hum in response, staring into his pretty eyes as they stare down at you lovingly, resting your chin on his chest.

“Move in with me.” It’s impulsive.

You blink, unable to register what he just said. “Uh, what?”

He chuckles, hoping the stunned look on your face is a good thing. “It’s stupid for you to keep moving back and forth between here and your apartment all the time. Move in with me.”

It’s a tempting offer. Could you do it? Realistically, could you bring your things in, set up your skin care routine in his bathroom, have a horde of snacks at your disposal, bring Bethany over for sleepovers…is it possible? He watches as you think it through, and his heart skips a beat as he watches it falter. “I-I can’t. Not yet, at least.”

His head tilts curiously, eyebrows furrowed. “Hmm?”

“I’m still tied to my lease for another three months.” You can’t abandon Sky, not after all this time. “Skylar would be pissed if I just up and left her to either scramble for a new roommate or for a new apartment.”

Was that it? “Oh,” Eddie says, relieved. “I can pay that.”

His answer momentarily stuns you, and a gorgeous laugh escapes his lips as he takes in your slack jaw and wide eyes. “W-what?”

He leans in, kissing your lips sweetly. “Sweetheart. I’m not gonna wait another ninety days when I can just pay it now and get you here tomorrow.”

“You’ll pay my half?” You ask, eyebrows raised, a light smile on your face.

“What’s your rent?”

“1800 for the apartment, we both pay 900 plus utilities.”

He does the quick math. “Oh, so 54 (hundred) to buy the lease out? Yeah, I’ll pay it. Might relieve Sky from being pissed at me for stealing her roommate.”

The casualty of his words drench your underwear, his urge to take care of you sending a heat to your center you can’t explain. You lean in, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip, showing your appreciation. “Can-can we go upstairs?” You ask him, out of breath.

Eddie smiles, taking in your lust-blown eyes and slack expression. “You know that’s not why I offered, right?”

The overwhelming happiness bubbles up from the inside and you shoot a wide smile up at him, chin resting on his chest again. “I know. Still, baby. Want you. Please,”

Eddie smirks, framing your face with his thumbs lightly. “When you say it so nicely, how could I ever refuse?”

You tug him by the hand and start running up the stairs. A yelp echoes through the house as Eddie grabs at your ass near the top, and when he lies down on the bed, you can’t get his cock down your throat fast enough.

-

To say the least, Sky couldn’t find it in her to be angry. She was going to miss you, more than she could describe as her roommate. She also had a three month warning to find a new roommate or a new apartment and had ample time to put at least some money aside while she didn’t have to pay for rent. She really had nothing to complain about. Still, she was gonna miss you.

As soon as the lust of him offering to take care of you died down, you went into overdrive, remembering how stressed you were when you had to move in your current apartment, a lease you’ve renewed twice now. You started making a list of things you needed, working between your phone and a random spiral notebook you found in a junk drawer. How many boxes did you need to get? If you used both Eddie and Dylan’s trucks how many hours would it take to move down the stairs-only building you had?

“What’re you working on?” You hear his voice over your shoulder.

“Oh, just working out the kinks of moving. My car won’t be enough, I’ll need your guys’ trucks to help. I also have my own furniture to worry about. The entertainment center is hers, but the couch is mine. My dresser, my bed, my bathroom shelf, all my bathroom junk—”

“Baby.” He interrupts you, a hand sliding up to your neck. “Relax. I can hire someone to take care of all of this for you. Just focus on packing your things and directing the men around on where to put them.” He places his hands delicately beneath your chin. “Ok?”

Fuck, you might just blow him again.

“Ok.”

And you did just that. You shared your list to Eddie’s phone, who called a smaller moving truck with three men to assist, hired an organizer to assist in organizing what you do or don’t need and who will handle selling your furniture, and finally, paying the rest of your rent to your front office without blinking an eye to get you out of the lease.

Soon, you were on the driveway on a hot day, watching as all the boxes containing your clothes, shoes, makeup, and other junk went up the stairs to Eddie’s (and now your) bedroom, a few staying downstairs.

He stands next to you in a white muscle shirt with a band you don’t know pictured on the front and some sweats, hands on his hips as he watches the movers go back and forth between the house and the truck. He radiates authority, each mover couldn’t be much older or younger than you, but they all look to him with respect, all of their words followed by the word ‘sir’.

“Sir, huh?” You ask, teasing him.

Eddie slightly grimaces, rejecting it. “Yeah, they insisted.”

“Dunno, kinda suits you.” You tease, and you walk back to the house, missing the audible gulp that comes from his throat, imagining it. You, on your knees, begging for him, calling him sir…

“Sir?” One of the movers asks, getting his attention. He flicks back, seeing the clipboard held in front of him. “Need you to sign.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” He mumbles, picking up the pen to sign.

As he signs his name, Dylan pulls up, taking in the men, the truck, the boxes on the floor visible past the open front door. “She’s moving in?”

Eddie looks at him, apologetic. He had asked you yesterday, and since then, he hasn’t had time to sit down and tell Dylan in person. “Sorry, bud. Kind of just happened all at once.”

Dylan thinks of his new girlfriend’s apartment, the night he had just spent wrapped up in her sheets. “I-I get that.”

Eddie blinks, expecting more of a push-back. “So, dad. I met this girl.” Oh, that explains it. “She’s…” the smile that lands on Dylan’s face is peaceful, and Eddie feels both curious and reassured. “Anyway. I wanted to bring her over for dinner to introduce her. Is that okay?”

A firm hand lands on Dylan’s shoulder, bringing him for a hug. “Of course, bud. When did you want to bring her over?”

“Friday at 6?”

It’s Wednesday, so that gives you both ample time to unpack and get the house ready for a dinner guest. “Friday works. Bring her over.”

“Hey, do you guys need any more help with the boxes?” He asks, running into the house.

Eddie doesn’t answer as he stands, stunned at the change in his son over the last, what, week?

The next two days make Dylan realize although he was in a much forgiving mood, he’s going to need to move out and fast. Just when he thought the two of you were bad, he didn’t realize how much worse you’d be when you moved in. In hindsight, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t see it coming.

Soon, he texted a friend he knew who was looking for another apartment about maybe moving in together after realizing your moans were not coming from your bedroom as he grabbed his keys and booked it for the front door.

You were on Eddie’s laundry room floor, wrapped in his arms, with only your shirt around your torso and his hair halfway out of its ponytail. You were still in the middle of recovering; Eddie edged you twice before finally letting you finish. “Did you hear the front door close?” Eddie asks, still breathing heavily as he does.

“N-no.” You gasp, moving your head up to face him, his chest hair tickling your chin. “Were we that loud?”

Eddie laughs, letting a thumb pet your face lightly. “Have you ever tried to be quiet, sweetheart?”

You shut him up with a kiss, slippery, but filled to the brim with everything you had. “Shut up.”

“I love you.” He mutters as you wrap yourself in his arms, and you whisper it back into his chest. “We do have company coming over, so we should probably finish unpacking.”

You groan lightly, but Eddie takes your hands and forces the two of you onto your feet, your knees lightly buckling. “I have so much stuff! There’s so much left to unpack.”

“Oh, I’m sure unpacking yourself into the second half of the walk-in is so hard, baby. C’mon, I’ll help you out.”

Again, Eddie’s house looks humble from the outside, but it was nothing to snark at. As he made more money, he slowly upgraded and renovated instead of just moving into a bigger house. The one upgrade that wasn’t really for him, but a constant reminder of what he lost, was the his-and-hers closet he had made for his ex, something she only enjoyed for six months before leaving him. He was excited to see your dresses, skirts, pants, and underwear in his closet, and especially your smell. Basically, he was excited for your invasion of the house.

You walk over to his–your–room where there are still boxes sitting, waiting to be unpacked. You start unpacking the one labeled dresses/skirts. As you start laying out a pile, separating the skirts you knew you weren’t gonna wear from the ones you would, Eddie sidled up beside you, pulling one you knew looked good on you up from the pile you weren’t gonna wear. “Hey, hey. Why haven’t I seen you in this one?”

You hesitate in your answer, pulling two more dresses out before answering. “Dylan fucked me while I wore that.” You admit, and he drops it immediately. He pulls another one up, hands moving over the silky blue fabric. Damn that one looked great on you. “That one, too.”

He drops it unceremoniously, hands moving to his hips. “Which ones hasn’t he touched you in?”

You put your hands on the much smaller, less appealing pile. “These.”

Eddie sighs, scratching his head. “Alright. We’re going shopping.” He announces, placing the pile of your old ‘rejects’ onto the floor.

“Huh?” You ask him, not sure you heard him correctly.

“Yep. Just leave all the clothes in a pile right there, and on Saturday I’m taking you shopping.”

“Baby, I work Saturday.”

“So call in.”

After Eddie helps you settle in for the next day and a half, you spend a good portion of your Friday in the kitchen, working in tandem to make supper together. You place plates at the dining room table Eddie and Dylan barely used, straighten up the napkins and the utensils when Eddie comes from behind you, and you feel his cock press right up against your ass. You grind back into it, closing your eyes and whimpering.

“Ed, they’ll be here in like,” you let out a sigh, “half an hour.”

He turns you, giving you a dirty kiss and gripping your hips harshly. “Then we better get moving.” He slips your dress up your hips and your underwear down.

“Hmm…take off your pants.”

He slips his cock in, bending you over the table, making you gasp. “Already off, baby.”

-

Dylan pulls up in his truck, now having to park in the same spot you did in the street since you took over his spot on the driveway. “So, this is my house.”

“For three more weeks?” Maya asks, teasing him.

He lets their hands intertwine, leading her to the door. “I did grow up here.”

“Yet your dad is kicking you out.” She says, eyes narrowed.

“No, not kicking me out…” He drifts off, when Maya’s green eyes silently ask him, he dismisses it. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.” He unlocks the front door, and as soon as it’s open, a very peculiar, very annoying sound is heard echoing in the house.

“Fuck, Ed, oh shit.”

Maya’s eyes go wide, it takes her a second longer to understand what they were listening to than it did for Dylan. Dylan shuts the front door, shoving his hand into his pocket for his phone. He dials his dad right away. “…Hello?” Eddie asks after three rings.

Dylan puts him on speaker. “Dad, wrap it up, we’re here.”

“Shit, sorry. Give us five—” the sound of your giggles interrupts him, “sorry, ten minutes. W-we’ll call you.”

He hangs up.

Maya’s face is the picture-perfect expression of what the fuck. “Dyl, when you said your family dynamic is odd…”

“I meant it. C’mon, let’s go for a walk to the corner store.”

Maya is taken aback, but she easily falls in line as Dylan holds his hand out for her. “Can’t believe the first thing I heard from your dad was that.”

“Darling, I have never meant it more than I have right now.” Dylan assures her, and she can see how much he means it in his brown eyes. “My dad has met my girlfriends in worse situations. Just be glad we didn’t see anything…’cause that was not coming from their bedroom.”

-

Eventually, you had to go upstairs to find a new dress to wear, Eddie having completely soiled it during your tryst as he phoned Dylan to let them know they were in the clear. Turns out, the two of you had time blindness when it came to one another, because neither of you were even close to done when Dylan had called.

As you climb down the stairs, there’s a knock on the door, and Eddie meets you there in time to open it to face Dylan and his new girlfriend. It was an intriguing feeling, opening the door to Dylan while Eddie’s arm was behind your back. Like a couple welcoming their son home. It was…bizarre to say the least. “Hey, sorry about—”

“It’s fine, dad. Rather not talk about it.” Dylan insists, his arm around a pretty redhead.

“Sure. Come on in.”

They step in, Maya taking a look around at the place as she does. “Maya, this is my dad and his girlfriend, Y/N. Guys, this is Maya.”

You weren’t used to Dylan being suddenly so cool with you and Eddie being together. He’s never out loud said that you were his dad’s girlfriend before without rolling his eyes or gagging. Whatever he had with Maya seemed to bring him some peace.

Thank god, you didn’t know if you could handle more eye rolls from Eddie’s 25-year-old teenage son. “Maya! Nice to meet you.” You hold your hand out to her, which she accepts graciously.

You remember meeting Eddie as a father to Dylan, and while your thoughts were occupied, whatever you were expecting for Dylan’s dad, it certainly wasn’t Eddie. You could see it clear in her face she wasn’t expecting this metalhead, either.

“Hi, Mr. Munson, nice to meet you.” She extends her hand to Eddie, and Eddie just about loses his mind.

“Ew. Don’t. Call me Eddie. Please.” Eddie gags, the same reaction he had when you addressed him that way when you first met.

“Oh. Sorry. Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles back, purposefully dressing himself down as a parental figure. You could tell he was poising himself differently for them. Whether it was self consciousness over the last time he met a girlfriend, or making it clear to Dylan he had no plans for a second contender, it did the job.

“Alright, the dining room is this way.” You extend your hand out down the hall, leading the way out of a somewhat awkward situation.

The four of you sit at the table, both men at the heads of the table while you and Maya sit across from one another. Eddie picks up the salad bowl, plating himself quickly and handing it over to you. “So, Dylan. Tell us how you and Maya met.”

They both start the story, eager to share. “Oh, can I tell, Dyl? You always get to.”

“Fine by me.”

Maya giggles softly before facing you and Eddie. “Well, my best friend sort of ditched me to tag along to guys’ night, and I refused to be ditched, so I got myself ready and ended up being fashionably late. When she invited me, I was already done for the night, pajamas and all but I got dressed up out of pure spite.” You chuckle, that’s something Bethany would do. “I got to the club, and suddenly I saw Dylan, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone else for the rest of the night.” She looks over to him, her eyes soft and her pink lips in a sweet smile. “He just drew me right in. We talked for so long we didn’t even realize it was time for last call.”

“Wow.” You comment, taking the last bowl in rotation from Eddie’s hands, the stir-fry vegetables. “Sounds like you guys have a great connection.” You look at Dylan at the last word, hoping he receives your message.

“Oh, we truly do.” Maya grins, Dylan shooting a wink at her in response.

Eddie grabs your hand under the table, and you hold it, petting at the tough skin and colliding with his rings.

“Our first date was incredible.” Maya mentions off-hand but doesn’t elaborate. If it was anything like your first date with Eddie, you knew better than to pry further. “So Dylan told me how you guys met, tell me about that.”

You and Eddie share a look of surprise at how casually she mentions it. You weren’t expecting her to know yet, in fact you were wondering if Dylan was going to tell her at all. Eddie lets out a chuckle. “A shitshow, let’s just say. When Dylan found us, it just became real messy in here.”

Unfortunately, Eddie missed the continuous waving Dylan was doing across the table to stop, please!

“How would meeting online make things messy?” Maya asks, the story Eddie had just told her and the story Dylan explained not exactly lining up.

“What?” Eddie asks, now unsure himself.

Your hand meets your mouth in understanding, facing Dylan with his head in his own hands. “Baby, I don’t think he told her, yet.”

“Nope.” Dylan musters out, annoyed.

“Oh.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Maya asks, watching everyone’s facial expressions one by one.

Dylan sighs, not ready to explain this part. “They didn’t meet online. Remember, my ex? The one who cheated on me?”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Of course I remember that bitch.” She says, giving you a look that says, ‘am I right’.

Dylan sighs, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Uh, Maya?”

“Hmm?”

“That’s her.” He says, pointing to you. “She cheated with my dad.”

Maya looks at you, dumbfounded, as you wave with a tight smile on your face. Being called that cheating bitch behind your back was certainly a new development from him. Not the…greatest feeling in the world. She looks to Eddie, who isn’t smiling, somewhat insulted on your behalf, but gives a friendly wave nonetheless.

“O-oh.”

“I said my family dynamic is different, didn’t I?”

“I thought you meant with how young she is…”

“There’s that…and there’s this. It used to hurt me a lot more, but honestly, since I met you, I don’t really feel that pain anymore.” He says to her. “I wish we could’ve had this conversation in private, but I guess I didn’t warn them.” A new hardness reaches Maya’s eyes as she looks at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by it. “Don’t be mad at them, because I’m not anymore. Well, mostly anyway. My dad said when he met her that he had to know everything about her or he was going to lose his mind.” You look to Eddie, and he winks at you slyly as you mouth the words I love you to him. “I used to think that was bullshit… But when I met you, Maya, I felt the same way, and I realized I couldn’t blame them for pursuing it if it was half as strong as what I felt when I saw you.”

The ice in Maya’s stare all melts the gloss in her eyes. “That’s still super messed up.”

“One hundred percent.” Dylan looks over to you and Eddie, and you’re wondering if the two of you were supposed to leave the table and give them privacy. “But now…they look good together. They’re good for one another. She puts this smile on his face that I never get to see anymore, and she seems more happy with him than she ever was with me.”

Your phone buzzes in your chair under your thigh. A text from Eddie. For the record, no one feels as strongly for anyone as I do for you. No one ever will.

You look at him and he nods once, his lips in a firm line. Your hands reach for his, interlocking with his. “Maya, I know you didn’t mean to but I would appreciate you not calling her a bitch.” Eddie tells her, parent voice on. “Now that we have all that out of the way, Maya, tell us what you do for work.”

-

Maya was a peach, and she seemed great for Dylan. As she helped clear the table she asked Dylan a question and it led to him announcing he was moving out. Out loud, Eddie gave him a proud hug, telling him it was a great idea.

To you, Eddie pumped his fist in celebration. As you washed the dishes that night, insisting Dylan and Maya go enjoy a movie on the couch, Eddie comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “When Dylan finally moves out, I’m fucking you on every surface in this house. I might just tell you to stay naked for easier access.” He leaves a wet kiss on your neck, and you’re left to imagine the possibilities as he adjusts himself while clearing the rest of the table.

True to his word, as Saturday dawns, Eddie wakes you up two hours before you start work and tosses your phone to call in sick for it. You text your manager at his request, and as soon as you hit send, Eddie sends you to his bathroom to get ready for a shopping day. In your first outfit, a pair of shorts and an oversized sweater, Eddie looks up and down at you exasperated and tells you to go get all dressed up and put some makeup on.

When your hands land on your hips at this he backtracks hard. “Of course you can wear what you want, baby! I just know that you love to get all dressed up, and I thought it would be fun for you. That’s all. We’re going to be trying on lots of clothes and I want my girl feeling her best.”

Okay, he has a point. An hour passes by, Eddie moving around you as he gets dressed up himself, less dramatic than his date night outfit, but dressed up all the same. As you finish, a wing on your eye, he comes behind you, looking over your shoulder for something. “You know I used to wear eyeliner all the time?”

“I…no?” You stutter, turning to face him.

“Might put some on today.” He mutters, slightly teasing you.

“If you don’t want to scare the general public, maybe we’ll save it for a date night, Ed.” You yank the pencil away from him, terrified that if you look away for one second, he’ll go overboard.

“Not even a little on my water line?” He asks, and you suddenly realize that yes, he does want some makeup for the day.

“I don’t see why not.” You shrug.

Now you walk hand in hand in the largest mall in town, starting the journey down the large aisle, leading Eddie. But eventually, Eddie ends up leading you, knowing exactly which stores he wants to go to. In the first store he takes you to, you look around the racks timidly, putting away anything you see over 20 bucks. In less than five minutes, Eddie comes by with a pile of clothes in his arms. “I’m gonna get a dressing room started, ok?” He pauses, noticing the 45 dollar dress you just put back. “Ooh, can you hand me that?”

“No, it’s too much.” You insist, looking at the large pile of clothes he has. You thought he meant like, three or four items at the most.

“I didn’t ask how much it was, sweetheart. Hand it over.” He tells you, to which you do. Only five minutes later, as you have only picked out two or three more dresses yourself, does he swing by and tug you to the biggest dressing room, the walls decorated with clothing.

“I-I’m not trying all of this on, am I?” You look around, it would take you at least an hour, and that’s if you hurried.

“Yep. And you’re showing me every piece.” He says, before closing the door on your stunned face.

“Eddie, this is way too much.”

“No complaining, just show me the first one!” he yells to you, no real bark behind his command.

The first dress you wear was a bit revealing, an open back, up to your thighs with a cowl neckline that shows cleavage. He smiles at you, leaning his elbows onto his knees in the seat offered in the dressing room. “Nice… Do a spin.” You roll your eyes, spinning for him slowly and timidly. He whistles lowly. “Man, I’m good. Next!”

He asked for a spin in everything you modeled for him until he didn’t need to, you did it for him. With each new piece, you were learning to not care if you were in a store with him, posing for him as he assessed each piece. Some you thought looked decent on you, he put in the no pile, while others you thought were a sure no, he put in the yes. He told you ultimately, it was your decision and if you felt uncomfortable, you could put one in the no pile, but he knew your body better than anyone. If he insisted it looked good, it must’ve looked good.

At the last piece you put on, he can’t seem to decide, asking an attendant for her opinion. She says she thinks the shirt looks amazing on you but isn’t sure about the style of pants. “Yeah, I chose them just to see if you’d wear it.” You shook your head no, feeling uncomfortable in the business type pants. “Cool. Get dressed in your clothes, we have more stores to hit up.” You toss the shirt to him after yanking it off, and by the time you make your way to the register, the attendant is already handing over two oversized bags to him.

“Eddie, this is enough clothes, I really don’t need anymore!” You insist as he directs you to a store only three spaces over.

As soon as you walk in, they see the big bags Eddie’s carrying and immediately offer their assistance. Eddie rolls his eyes, knowing he only ever gets the star treatment if he’s walking around with the occasional designer bag. (He likes their underwear). “Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but the women’s side of our closet is huge, and you didn’t have nearly enough clothes to fill it anyway.”

Our closet. You’re so fixated on the use of the word our that you don’t realize he’s waiting for you to talk. “Doesn’t mean I need more.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what it means!” He turns to the employee who’s been following him around and hands her the bags. “Be a dear and hold on to these, will ya?” He turns back to you, resting one hand on the rack beside him and staring down at you intensely. “Baby. I want to spoil you. Let me. Please! Pick out some clothes you want, I’ll pick some out, too, and you can try them on.”

“You’ve spoiled me so much already!” You insist, gulping at the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re all I could ever ask for.”

“That’s exactly why I have to spoil you.” He retorts, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I love you. Let me show you how much. I have a stupid amount in savings. I kind of want to chuck some out just to keep me humble.”

You giggle at this, finally, fully giving in to his madness.

Madness, it is. As you go from store to store, he gets about two more bags full from each one, and you’re sure some of these outfits will never see the light of day after you see how he looks at you in them. About ten percent will just be something you put on for about two seconds before he takes it off you. He’s buying dresses he knows he’ll be the only person to ever take them off or see you in them.

At one point, he runs back to his truck to put the eight bags he got tired of carrying around away, coming back to meet you in the store he left you in. It wasn’t much of a clothing store, but you had a basket of things you were planning to buy for yourself. Earrings, a knick knack for your desk, a cute notebook and the like. (There was a shirt you found for Eddie that you got just for the hell of it.) You're waiting in line, and you’re digging through your purse for your wallet when Eddie comes behind you, wallet out, card in the machine. “I—”

“Baby. Your money is useless today. Let me.”

You roll your eyes, and the cashier’s wide eyes at his pet-name for you catches your eye, a laugh escaping you. “Yeah, sorry. Guess I forgot to mention my boyfriend is also in his 40s.” You giggle, having just gushed about how Eddie was spoiling you to him.

“What? 40s? I’m clearly in my 20s.” Eddie asks, acting offended.

The poor cashier looks genuinely frightened, holding up his hands in surrender. “He’s joking. He is. Likes to make people squirm.”

“Oh I love to make you squirm—”

“Eddie!” You berate him, yanking him out of the store as he lets out a bout of laughter. He catches his breath, still laughing as you cross your arms, waiting impatiently for him to stop.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you made it too easy! C’mon, two more stores, then we can grab food.”

“Can I pay for food?” You ask, holding his hand.

Eddie smiles, petting your hand with his thumb. “Of course.”

The second to last store he brings you to is an underwear store. Eddie lets you do all the picking, following closely behind and offering any commentary when you ask for it. For once, he doesn’t insist that you model for him, claiming that just seeing you go through the lacier drawers of panties was torture enough. You walk out with a wardrobe’s worth of new underwear, bras, and a little bit of lingerie. It was the first time you were there to see the total, your eyes widening as Eddie takes out his card.

He smirks at your stunned expression. “Oh, this isn’t even the highest bill, sweetheart.” The transaction goes through and the kind lady behind the desks offers the bags to him. “This isn’t even half of it.”

The bill was at about 700 dollars, so the very idea drove you insane that he had already collected every receipt and refused to let you see them.

He brings you to one last store, wall to wall, covered in clothes. He goes a little ham this time, and you notice he focuses on basics. Sweatpants, sweaters, shorts, and under shirts. There’s one thing he chooses that has you struggling to get the zipper up, and eventually you call out for him for help after a good five minutes of fumbling .

He opens the curtain delicately so as to not reveal anything, and you look at him helplessly as your hand can’t reach the zipper sitting low on your ass. His fingers are light to the touch, as one hand rests on your shoulder, one on the zipper as it goes up to your neck, your hair held by your hands. You can’t help the shiver that runs through you as your hair curtains down around your neck, and you turn to face him, holding your hands out to silently ask him what he thought.

What does he think? He thinks that this fucking dress looks so good on you that it would be a crime to get you to start trying on those shorts and sweaters. Hell, you knew your size, you were probably good to go. It was much less revealing than any dress you tried on, a number he’ll probably get you to wear on your next date. He couldn’t help himself, surrounded by the privacy of the small room, he leans in to kiss you sweetly, one hand going up to frame your neck. “Baby.” He mutters, his voice sounding desperate. “You look…fucking gorgeous.”

You smile into it, your hand tracing the seam of his shirt along his torso. “Thanks. Help me out of it? I still need to try on all these clothes.”

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, surprising you. A slight whimper escapes you as he backs you into the wall against a few clothing articles hanging there. “I will absolutely help you out of this dress.” He says, his voice husky and a touch of arousal lands in your underwear as you realize why. “But then I’m going to get my cock in you.”

“In-in here?” You ask, highly aware you’re in a public space.

“Mmhmm. Be quiet and no one will suspect a thing.” he says, hand slipping under the skirt of the dress to start palming at your folds over your panties. You whimper at the touch into his mouth, focusing all your energy on not alerting the kind sales lady that you were hooking up in her dressing room. “Oh, good girl, keeping herself quiet.”

“It’s…it’s hard.” You whimper, the light touches over your panties not enough, but still causing more arousal.

“So am I.” Eddie chuckles, watching your face as he teases you. He slips the hand into your panties, letting them drop on the floor. “Oh, so wet, huh?” He asks you, eyebrows furrowed as he plays with the slick on your folds.

“Mmhmm.”

“Does daddy buying all the pretty clothes make you all hot, baby?” He asks, voice in your ear and fingers rubbing at your clit gentle, but enough to start you to your destination. You nod your head, because on some level, this was a big turn on for you. “Oh, you horny little slut.”

“Good girl…” You whimper, and Eddie leans back from your shoulder. “Good girl. Please?” You ask him, the slut shaming wasn’t doing it for you.

“Oh, you wanna be called a good girl, huh? Daddy’s good girl?” You nod, your eyes closing as he starts to rub at your clit faster.

“Feels…feels good, Daddy…”

“Daddy’s gonna make you cum, and since you’re a good girl you’re not gonna make a fucking sound. Okay?” You nod, holding a whimper in your throat from the finger he slides into your heat. “Oh she’s close.” He mutters to himself, placing gentle kisses on your neck. “Fall apart on my fingers so I can fuck you, my good girl.”

Your mouth is open in a silent scream, an orgasm shaking through you as you wither against the dressing room wall.  

“Oh, that’s my good girl, such a good listener. Now, turn around and hold on to those hooks.” You do as he says, and as you brace yourself with your hands awkwardly against the hooks decorated with hangers, he zips the dress off you, lifting it over your head and nearly forgetting to muffle his own moan when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He lets his pants fall around his calves, and as his cock pushes you, you let your jaw open and eyes close, doing everything you could not to moan out loud.

He slowly bucks into you, and you close your eyes and lean against the wall headfirst while the scent of store clothes invades your senses. Soon, Eddie leans forward, forcing your torso up against his back as he places his ringed hand around you like a necklace. He kisses at the skin he can reach sweetly, eyes open as he watches your reaction to everything he does to you.

While the prospect of being caught by someone was hot, Eddie found himself watching for your visual reactions than listening for your audible ones. Hmm. He didn’t realize he had begun to rely on them. “How’s Daddy’s cock?”

“G-good.” You whisper, leaning into his chest with your head back against his shoulder.

“Gonna cum in you.” He mutters. He starts fucking into you a little harder, and it has to be perfectly timed because if he went all the way in, the sound of his balls against your pussy would be a dead giveaway.

“How’s everything in there?”

“Speak.” Eddie commands you, and you have to tear yourself from outer space for a moment.

“Great, thank you!”

“Just a reminder we try not to encourage two people in one dressing room.”

“She was just needing help with a zipper. Almost done.” Eddie pipes out, sounding relatively normal for someone seconds away from cumming.

“If you need any help or sizes, let us know.”

 “Thanks…” Shit, that sounded out of breath.

“Cum in me.” You whisper, and Eddie does just that, slowly fucking his way through his orgasm, his cheeks flushed, shirt clinging onto the sweat.

You nearly protest as he takes himself out and tucks himself back into his pants. At this point, you were so turned on you kind of wanted to blow him while you had him in the room. You hold his face in your hands and connect your foreheads. “Is it bad I still want more?” You mutter under your breath.

Eddie swears softly, his boner fighting harshly against his slacks. “Fuck. No, I do, too.” He tugs your naked self into his arms, kissing your hair softly. “But…she was suspicious. Unless we want to get kicked out, we should quit while we’re ahead.”

“Can I blow you when we get home?” You ask him, turning to grab your own clothes off the floor.

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs the clothes scattered around the dressing room. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

It took multiple trips from Eddie’s truck to bring in all the bags. You truly didn’t realize how many pieces of clothing he had bought you until you saw it all scattered on the closet floor, all ready to be reorganized. Eddie starts hanging them, and you notice the outline of his cock in his slacks. He was still throbbing.

“Can I?” You ask, sitting pretty on your knees and looking up at him.

“Fuck, I’m never gonna say no to that.” Eddie answers, placing a hand under your chin.

You undo his pants, giving him a hungry look as his cock springs free. “You’re still hard?” You ask, knowing you’ve gotten food at the food court and walked around the mall a bit more before coming home.

“Mmhm.” You smile, jerking him lazily as you eye the length hungrily. You have the idea to tease him more, but the need to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue is too much. Eddie swears loudly as you take him in your mouth, gripping onto the center console for accessories and underwear. “Fuck”

You slowly bob your head up and down, staring up at him through your eyelashes as you relax your throat and allow your nose to meet his stomach. His hands skim through your hair, moving your head lightly, and again, you find it ridiculously easy to submit to him.

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet, head thrown back in bliss as he feels the spit gather at his base. His stomach starts to tighten up a little bit and under your hands, his thighs are tense. Somehow it spells out to you he’s close.

You prepare yourself, moving your head faster on your own accord, opening your eyes at him again to watch for his reaction as you double down. A goddamn whimper escapes his throat as you continue, and suddenly it’s your goddamn mission to make him make that sound again. “Fuck, baby. Fuck…” Without any warning, the warm salty taste of his cum hits your tongue and you moan around him as he rides through his orgasm.

For once, as you wipe your mouth, you can tell he’s the one that needs recovery. You move to your feet, waiting for him to catch his breath. “Need some water?” You ask him, somewhat joking.

“The fuck was that?” He asks, his face in awe as he looks at you.

You give a cheeky and quick little kiss to the hand on your cheek. “Wanted to make you feel good.”

“Jesus Christ—” he tugs you into a hug, habitually kissing your hair. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Uh Ed.” You push lightly on his chest to get out of the hug, giving him a look of disbelief. You look gesture around the closet to the half of the clothes still not put away. “How are you the lucky one?”

Eddie’s face breaks into a wide smile, his dimples prominent, his smile lines deep. “You keep thinking that, darling.” He laughs, tugging you back into his arms.

As you stand there against his chest, relaxing into him with your eyes closed, the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it. You put away my clothes since you know where everything goes.”

“I did design this closet.” He retorts, pointing a finger at you.

You walk down the stairs to the front door, seeing a tall figure facing away through the smart glass. You open the door to a gorgeous set of brown locks, perfectly coiffed. The figure turns around, and clearly doesn’t expect to see you standing there. “Hey, Ed- whoa.” You recognize his face, but you aren’t sure where from. You subtly fix your hair; suddenly aware you had just given head to your boyfriend. “Uh, sorry, little lady. Is Eddie here?”

“He’s upstairs in the closet. Can I help you?”

The stranger smiles kindly, and you notice the freckles on his face are like constellations. “Oh sorry! I told him I’d be coming through town, but I forgot to say when. I’m Steve, Steve Harrington.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

Taglist for Really Drives Me Mad: @yunnie-f1 @hollster88 @corrodedcoffincumslut @daisyridleyyyy @daniellabrandt @lail1010 @alicentswife @names-were-taken @bl4ckt00thgr1n

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you smut #older eddie munson #older eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #older!eddie x reader

[ghostofskywalker]

One Night To Change Everything

Commander Wolffe/Fem!Reader

Fictober Day 13 of 31

Words: 827

Summary: To everyone else around him, Wolffe's affections for you were as clear as the highest-grade Corellian Vodka. It was just the commander that needed a little help to see it.

Clone Troopers Masterlist

Wolffe didn’t have romantic feelings. He was a high-ranking commander in the Grand Army of the Republic, he just didn’t have the time for them. And he certainly didn’t have feelings for the 104th’s civilian administrator, no matter what Sinker and Boost tried to say to him.

It wasn’t that he hated you, that couldn’t be further from the truth, but he didn’t do romance. Not only could clones get into a lot of trouble if they were caught engaging in romantic relationships, but he never even considered that with you. You were someone he thought of as a friend, and yes, you were very beautiful, but he didn’t have those kinds of feelings for you.

Or at least, that’s what he told the men under his command every single time one of them said something about how Wolffe needed to “make a move.”

They had practically dragged him to 79’s after you had agreed to go out and let loose for a little while they were on leave, and there really was no use trying to back out. Sinker and Boost were excellent on the battlefield, and their iron courage also extended to going head-to-head with their commanding officer. Plus, if he was being truly honest with himself, he enjoyed nights out with his men, and he wanted to make sure that you were safe as well. Maybe that last part wasn’t the whole truth, but it was all he was willing to admit right now.

But that pointed self-ignorance didn’t last long, because as he sat in the booth at 79’s and watched as you were approached by several of his brothers from different battalions, Wolffe finally had to admit that maybe Sinker and Boost were right about how he felt about you. It certainly didn’t help that you had left behind the drab officer’s grays that he had always seen you wearing while on the flagship. Your outfit now was in no way inappropriate for the setting, but it suited you in a way that the Republic-issued uniforms would never be able to hold a candle to, and he couldn’t stop staring.

Fantasies passed through his head of finally taking your hand and kissing you. They were more intoxicating than the drink in front of him, but there was still something that kept him from acting on those feelings. Maybe it was fear of getting rejected by you, the fear of what might happen to you if your romantic tryst was uncovered, or wanting to avoid the inevitable teasing of the rest of his squad, but all he could do is sit there and stare.

He didn’t even truly register the sight of you walking in his direction, but moments later you were there, taking a seat next to him in the booth. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you said as you took a sip of your drink. “I came over here to ask you the same question actually.”

That definitely caught him off guard. “Why?”

“Because we’ve been here for half the night already and you haven’t left the booth,” you said. “I wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Most of the times we come here I stay to the background anyway, just in case anything happens.”

You nodded. “And as honorable a duty as that is, I feel bad that you’re sacrificing your night out.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “I like knowing my men are safe, and it seems like they’re behaving tonight.”

You smiled, a sight that Wolffe immediately committed to memory. “That’s great news, because I really came over here to ask you for a dance.”

There was no other person in the entire galaxy that could have convinced him to leave the booth and head over to the dance floor, but he followed you like a puppy. You gently took his hand and began to slowly coax the dancer in him out from behind the shield he kept up all the times.

The music changed so many times, and with each new song he felt more comfortable. As something slower came across the speakers, you moved closer to him, and his hands found your waist. “See?” you asked, a smile on your face. “Isn’t this much more fun than sitting at that booth all night?”

“You were right.” Maybe it was the one drink he had all evening, maybe it was the euphoria of dancing with you, but he did something then that he would have never had the courage to do before. He leaned down, moving to kiss you on the cheek, but you moved at the last second, pressing your lips to his.

It was something he’d never forget, and even though he knew that his troops were likely whooping and cheering from the border of the dance floor as they watched their commander kiss the 104th’s civilian administrator, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

- the end - 

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#ghostofskywalker.fictober #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #clone trooper x reader #commander wolffe fanfiction #star wars x reader

[the-whispers-of-death]

High School Teacher AU

So the results from this poll was to do the AU with both my OCs & the 141, but I want to clarify that while I might do Teacher!141 x Reader if asked, this AU is mainly a Kali x Stone AU. The 141 aren't really the main focus (though that's not to say they'll only appear rarely).

Anyways, I wanted to first to an introduction of all of the characters (because I finally named my newest OC). We're going to talk about what class they're teaching, a little bit about them in this AU.

We're going to do this by grades (because some of them are teaching the same subject ((ie history)) but they're different classes). It's important to note that this is a U.S. high school, not a British/UK one. Also, some of them still have their callsigns because those callsigns could easily be written as a nickname they got from students.

Okay now onto the cast:

Peter Williams, Personal Fitness (Grade 9)- Coach Williams is well-loved by the students and is a former Marine. He's not very strict, very much lenient, hence why the freshmen love him. He has a knife scar that goes through his left eyebrow and all the way through his left eye (but didn't blind him). He is known for gushing about his wife and daughters (though some students and faculty believe that Mr. Greene is actually his "wife").

Arun "Hellstorm" Khatri, Environmental Science (Grade 9)- Mr. Kahtri is a former Naval pilot and is known as "Hellstorm" because he once "rained hell" down on a teacher who humiliated a student by making them stand outside the classroom with a sign detailing how they misbehaved. That being said, he is known for looking like he's perpetually bored due to his face usually being neutral and his voice monotone.

Kyle Garrick, Creative Photography 1 (Grades 9-12)- Mr. Garrick is a former SAS soldier who moved from the UK to teach kids how to get into photography. He teaches Creative Photography 1 only because he primarily works with film instead of digital cameras. Students often gush about how he makes them love photography and how his tips help them become better photographers.

John MacTavish, 2D Studio Art 1 & 2 (Grades 9-12)- Mr. MacTavish is a former SAS soldier and he moved from the UK to help American kids either start their artistic career or better improve their artistic skills. He's very out-going and he's a hit amongst the students. Don't tell the administrative faculty, but he often puts on movies for the kids on slow days.

Fariz "Heartthrob" Shah, Nutrition & Wellness (Grades 9-12)- Mr. Shah is a former Marine and he got his nickname due to being very charismatic. He is said to make all of the faculty swoon and even some students (though he stays away from students, even if they're eighteen). He teaches his students the joys of cooking.

Ashok Kumar, Chorus 1, 2, & 3 (Grades 9-12)- Mr. Kumar is a former Marine and he is extremely tall at 6'8". He walks a fine line of being demanding in terms of choir performance while also having days where his classes are just watching movies to relax. He and his senior chorus class go to Disney every year to perform. His choirs have won more trophies than the football team.

John Price, World History (Grade 10)- Mr. Price is a former SAS soldier and he moved to America as a favor to the principal of the high school whom he had fought alongside with. He is considered to be a rather fair teacher, stern but not too strict. He's vying to be the favorite history teacher among the tenth graders, often clashing with Stone/Mr. Mishra who also teaches tenth graders.

Vasanti Singh, IT Systems and Applications (Grade 10)- Ms. Singh is a former information systems technical and she took this teaching job simply because it was easy enough to let her mind rest. She's known to goof around, being a hit among the students and the other faculty members. Most students take her class because they think it'll be easy, oh how wrong they are.

Simon "Ghost" Riley, Weight Training 1, 2, & 3 (Grades 10-12)- Coach Riley is a former SAS soldier and he is known for being a hard-ass. He's really strict and has made kids cry, but he was the best out of all of the potential candidates so he got hired. His nickname is due to him being able to just disappear without anyone noticing. He lowkey has animosity towards Coach Williams because he doesn't understand why Coach Williams is so easygoing with the students. He pushes his students to be the best they can be. He has declined offers to become the new football coach, despite his leadership potentially being the key to improve the football team.

Nathan Greene, AP Pre-Calculus (Grades 10-12)- Dr. Greene is a former Marine and he has a PHD in mathematics. He could be teaching at a college and be a professor, but he loves to help improve younger students' love for mathematics. He is rumored to be Coach Williams' "actual" wife as he once popped his head in the gym and asked "how their girls were doing" while referring to Coach Williams' daughters. He has a son and most faculty members who believe Coach Williams and Dr. Greene are actually married swear up and down they can see similarities in both Dr. Greene's son and Coach Williams.

Vikram "Stone" Mishra, United States History (Grades 10-12)- Mr. Mishra is a former Corpsman and is a complete mystery to most people. He has managed to hide his first name from most faculty members and all of the students, as the scantrons they take in his class only refer to him as "Stone Mishra". No one knows where the nickname comes from, but every adult refers to him as "Stone". Students are in awe of his countless old battle scars, enough so that they take his class despite knowing how strict he is. He is often told to be the strictest teacher on campus.

Ivan Kohli-Petrov, AP English Literature & Composition (Grades 11-12)- Mr. Kohli-Petrov is a former Marine and is a man of few words. Despite being mostly silent, his teaching has helped the school's overall test scores improve with how much he makes his class seem more fun. Most juniors and seniors say he makes reading more fun than their previous English teachers. He's not known for his friendliness, considering the looks he gives whenever someone asks him how the right side of his body got severely burned.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #task force 141 oc: stone #task force 141 oc: ladder #shadow company oc: kali #shadow company oc: sarabi #shadow company oc: simba #shadow company oc: nala #call of duty oc: heartthrob #call of duty oc: hellstorm #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #high school teacher au #just an introduction to this AU #stone x kali #kali x stone #there will be some 141 x Reader stuff if y'all want #:)

[electricbluebutterflies]

Hands rubbing together to warm them up + damerey kiddos

It is 2023 and I am formally back in this spiral and... doing my usual vaguely-post-canon thing that didn't happen several years ago due to Assorted Unrelated Personal Bullshit. Turns out I missed these babes. PG-ish, pre-relationship, and also on ao3.

She’s cold. She hates this.

There is, admittedly, a lot of life that Rey hasn’t experienced yet. An extended stay on an ice planet is not nor will it be the weirdest, but it’s still…

“Warm enough?”

There’s a lot more she needs to get used to, really. The fact that people care about her – both on a peripheral level, where it is very important that someone of her position have adequate clothing for every stop on what one of her friends described as the victory tour, and the existence of said friends, the fact that there are other living beings she trusts completely and-

Rey turns to look at her designated minder, who looks even less thrilled than she is about this particular adventure. “I will be. Eventually. Maybe.”

Normally this is the part where she’d add some little comment about how her comfort doesn’t matter, as long as she’s functional she’ll deal, but she’s learning to moderate that around certain people. Well, one specific person who absolutely refuses to listen to her and-

It’s not personal. It’s deeply personal. She’s not used to duality.

What she’s figured out, in these months of closure or whatever, is that the official reason they’re stuck together is the droid apparently has separation anxiety and that’s definitely a new one by her standards, and the unofficial one is that someone somewhere in Resistance administration figured that two chaotic humans would cancel each other out. This is… not exactly what’s happened, but it’s kept both of them out of trouble better than she suspects any other scheme would, and-

“So, not warm enough and going to pretend otherwise because you’re a self-sacrificing-“

“Like you’re any better!”

This is the part she’s gotten used to, the too-public verbal sparring matches that are still… affectionate, somehow. She heard all the rumors long before they got to this point, and she knows there’s no harm meant in whatever too-perceptive accusations might get thrown around, and-

“I think I’ve at least figured out layers,” Poe mutters, giving her an unimpressed look. “Whereas you…”

“Don’t… don’t make my inexperience into-“

“Worried, not amused. You look frozen.”

“I feel worse.”

“C’mere.”

She takes half a step closer and is unsurprised when his gloved hands wrap around hers, moving just slightly in repetitive motion, very careful not to touch the little strip of exposed skin between glove and jacket sleeve and-

“We’re getting you better gloves,” he murmurs.

“These are fine. They do fit. That’s more than-”

He gives her that look she’s starting to recognize as a specific flavor of… not exactly disappointment, that would imply more harm than she thinks he intends, but…

“Do you know how bad it looks for them if you get frostbite?”

“No?”

“Disaster. Complete petty disaster. We do not want that, understand?”

“Since when do you-“

Her voice cuts off as she processes the accusations that want to fall out that… aren’t quite accurate, really. Almost everyone she’s met in this world has been kind to her, at worst in awe and confused, but this man is…

“I’m sorry,” she says just a little too soft. “I know you care. I’m not sure why, but-“

“I have a droid who likes you more than me, you kinda saved the galaxy, and…”

“And?”

“I like you. Does it have to be more complicated than that?”

Yes, she thinks, yes it absolutely does have to be more complicated, but… she has months of evidence that it may not be. He’s been consistently kind and protective in a different way than anyone else, but it hasn’t gone any clear direction yet. No comments about her appearance, let alone-

“You like me,” she repeats, and the words taste right in her mouth. “That’s…”

“I didn’t mean to-“

“I don’t mind. I’m just… unsure what you want me to do with it.”

“Right now… nothing? I’m not sure I should’ve said that but-“

“Probably better to get it over with. Gives me time.”

“No pressure, okay? I’m not-“

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“What, is that not helping?”

Rey rolls her eyes in a way she hopes comes off as flirtatious and okay she’s never wanted to do that before and-

“I trust you,” she says, glancing down at their hands. “That isn’t…”

“Still-“

“We can fight about this when I’m not an icicle. Deal?”

“Deal.”

#ebf writes fic #damerey #NOT queue-posting this because functionally new babes

[enigmaart]

PT2: MOON SUFFERS IN SILENCE:

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

Thank whatever god exists out there he's not allowed to leave the hospital, because if he was, he'd have no excuse not to go to the funeral. At least, not in his eyes.

The family was in pieces over it. They cried over his body for hours and had to be forced to leave by security. The father couldn't believe his ears. He thought it was fine. The night before he had just talked over the phone with his son and his doctors.  His heart seemed stable. He was in good condition. What happened? Why hadn't he been informed of any complications?

His mother was worse for wear as far as Moon's heard. Refuses to leave the house, only gets out of bed to go to the bathroom, eat, and sometimes go to Markis's room and just lay in his bed for hours on end.

His sisters were pretty much taking care of themselves and each other while their parents, moreso their dad, made funeral arrangements. The middle schooler had to walk across the street from her school to his so she could collect certain documents and other items. She cried when the school administration gave her her brother's notebooks he left in his locker.

It was a bright, sunny day when they actually buried him. How ironic. Such perfect weather to bury your child in.

Despite being his murderer, Moon couldn't help but wish he could've said goodbye to his best friend one last time. After, that night, he quickly replugged the machine and left the room to inform the doctors of Markis succumbing to his disease. The doctors and nurses rushed to the scene. They demanded to know what happened. He explained to them that Markis knew he was dying quickly, and ordered him to hold his hand and stay with him while it happened, so that's why he couldn't inform the doctors. And you know the most messed up part? They believed him, just like that. If he's ordered to do something, he has to do it. He can't control that. He's just a machine. He can only do as he's told. It's not his fault the kid died. And he lets them say these things right in front of him, perhaps either out of comfort of not having to take responsibility for his actions, or out of fear of being outed as a liar, because Moon isn't stupid.

If anyone ever found out the truth, he would have to be decommissioned.

A caretaker killing a child?! And it expects us to believe he made it do it?! Straight to the scrapyard for Moon! And he'll be replaced with something new, something that they will put through even more tests than him so they can deem it "less dangerous" for humans. He didn't want that to happen. So he won't say a thing about it.

No one must ever know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, you think that his death was a little, I don't know, unexpected?"

He catches his breath.

Two doctors, Dr. Marshal and Dr. Okiyati, walking down the hallway. Are partnered often. Probably are partners. He's seen them before, neurologists. Working away at brains and why they seem to fail you at the worst of times.

It was Dr. Okiyati who spoke first.

"Well, yea" replies Dr. Marshal, "most deaths that take place here are unexpected, aren't they? Poor souls don't even get to see their parents before they go."

"Well, I mean, yea, but, don't you think he went rather, erm, quickly?"

Now Dr. Marshal stops to look at his partner confusedly. "Dude, what are you talking about? The cardiologists said that he was expected to go anytime now. Is it really that shocking?"

Yes, thought Moon in his head, it shouldn't ever be this easy to discuss something like that.

He was in an office tending to some work in his headpsace by filing some of Markis's data in the archives. He wasn't moving, and his head was down, so anyone could assume he was just powered off to conserve energy for today. Not that it mattered much if he powered down or not, they said whatever they felt around him.

"Look," says Dr. Okiyati, " you might not think anything of it, but the vascular specialist told me that there was evidence of suspension of breath. You know what that means, right?"

Moon thinks he's gonna be sick.

"Okay, so the kid tried to kill himself, but it obviously didn't work thanks to life support."

"Exactly, so what went wrong this time?"

Moon panics. He knew someone would think it was suspicious, but he didn't think he'd be caught this quickly.

"...dude what the hell are you on? The kid's heart failed him, that's that. Nothin we can do about it now. So come on, we gotta take care of the patients we still have."

"Alright, alright."

And so they end the conversation there and move on. Completely ignorant to the emotional turmoil Moon is having right now.

He swears up and down he was relieved, at least, he thinks that he should be relieved. He didn't get caught. He wasn't going to be decommissioned. Yet.

...so why was he not happy?

Why does he feel this way? Like things just aren't right?

...because they aren't. Because after last night, nothing will ever be the same for him.

Because he realizes that he wants to get caught. He wants someone to take him away and decommission him for what he did. He knows he deserves it. So why won't he tell them the truth? Why won't he just get it over with?

...

...

...

Because then where would Sun be? Without him?

Where would all the other children, the ones he's supposed to make better, be without him?

Would they be better off? The hospital could always just order another robot caretaker to be built upon hearing of what really took place that horrible night. Sun probably wouldn't be able to look at him anymore.

...

But he didn't want Sun to hate him. He didn't want to leave him behind. He didn't want to leave the kids - his kids - behind.

So that's that. He's a selfish liar. That's just who he is now. Before that day, he could look his little friends in the eyes knowing he was a kind guardian to them, a gentle soul who would help them through long recoveries. Now he can barely meet them knowing how easy it would be to bring about their demise. But he can live with it. He can live with the guilt. As long as he can live this sweet dream for just a little while longer, he'll be okay. If someone discovers the truth, than that'll be it. He won't deny it. For now though he won't say a thing. Just to keep his happy life here normal.

He doesn't have to tell anybody anything until they finally suspect him.

No one. Has. To know.

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《

TADA!! THE BOIS MOST SADDEST MOMENTS, FINALLY RELEASED OUT INTO THE WORLD! Now i actually gotta start making a storyline for this au lol

#fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sb #fnaf dca #fnaf security breach #fnaf moon #fnaf au #fnaf children's hospital au #children's hospital au #tw medical #tw child death #tw death

[belovedrival]

Random Sunday thoughts.

Even though I post on here almost every day, it feels like forever since I’ve posted about actual personal things.

Minerva sometimes will jump on my leg. Like she’s attacking me. I’m like, girl, I’ll play with you but keep your claws to yourself!

If Jonas’s next clear word is “gentle”, it wouldn’t be a surprise. We say it 800 times daily. He loves Minerva but…toddler and kitten 😳

Oh, and both of them climb everything. I might as well let my hair go all grey. Although I looked in the mirror today and thought I needed it highlighted again because otherwise I look 50. Sheesh. Like getting older? Fine. I can live with that. But I look way older than I feel. Does that make sense?

My in-laws were here a couple weeks ago. It was a good visit. They were here during the last gasp of Indian summer (is that still a phrase that’s used?) - like clear blue skies, 60s and 70 degree weather. My father-in-law (my Other Dad; I love him) did various projects, like installing a cat door. He and I raked up the trillion leaves that were piled up.

On the afternoon before they left, Mister, Dad and I took Jonas to a local lake. There’s a little beach there and a fantastic playground. Jonas waded right into the water (even though it was cold 🥶) and had a blast just digging in the sand. He loved the playground, too. We’re going to have to take him back there.

We enjoyed the 70 degree afternoon on the beach just in time…the next day, the 11th, my in-laws left and it was colder and windy. We woke up early on the 12th to see several inches of snow on the ground. From 70 degrees at 5 pm on Thursday to just after 5 am on Saturday with 20 degrees and snow!! 😱❄️ I’m sure others have had bigger weather swings but nobody here expected snow on November 12th. Not surprisingly, it’s still autumn here but it’s felt like winter for the last week. Which is okay because…

Thanksgiving. 🥐🦃

We’re staying home for Thanksgiving for the first time since we were DATING. Like the last time it was *just us* (well, before Jonas and Minerva the Crazy Cat), it was 2011. That year Mister and I celebrated Thanksgiving at his tiny apartment in Chicago and drove around to several grocery stores on the day (to find an open one) because we’d forgotten to get a pie.

I am ridiculously excited to stay home. It’s about having our own traditions, not just going along with other people’s. I’m going to attempt to bake the crescent rolls my mom’s made for years, and a low sugar apple crisp for dessert. Beyond that, the turkey breast is going into the crockpot, mashed potatoes are on the menu because of course, and there’s green beans that I haven’t decided how to cook yet. It’s not eleventy side dishes but I only really wanted to make the rolls and neither of us want to have a ton to do on the day. The turkey breast is big enough to have leftovers, so there’s going to be plenty of food regardless. Choir is singing on Thanksgiving so as soon as I get home from that mid-morning, I’ll probably just wear pajamas the rest of the day 😂❤️

Mister has been working crazy hours. He’s got an extra class he’s teaching this year (5/6th grade religion) and a bigger 7/8th grade class than last year. Plus finding time to do administrative work. He usually leaves the house around 6 am, gets home about 4:30 or 5, then goes back to school after Jonas is in bed. I’m worried about him burning the candle at both ends but there’s not really a solution other than him getting a sub a couple times a month just so he can keep up with grading. And his class this year is just…not a good one. Like there’s no behavioral issues but the kids just aren’t motivated to do anything other than the bare minimum. He asks questions to get a discussion going, and there’s crickets. The only thing most of the junior high kids (and others) seem to care about is sports. They’ll get the grades to pass, but…there’s no “I want more in my life”. We don’t know if it’s just a rural area thing for kids to not be motivated, if it’s this particular area, or just this group of kids. Mister has heard repeatedly that the kids 3-4 years younger are a lot more engaged, but honestly I wonder what they’ll be like by 7th grade.

All that to say that Mister is not having a good year. After 20 years teaching, he knows how to get kids engaged and interacting, but “talking to these kids is like talking to a brick wall”. And the result of this is we’re actually talking about moving. Again. Maybe next year, or the year after, depending on what other job comes along. He (and I) aren’t super impressed by the kindergarten teacher here and the 1st/2nd grade teacher has been here for decades and is just not what we want for Jonas. She’s stuck in her ways and will NOT change. Beyond that, there’s fewer opportunities here (I won’t say none, because that’s not true) but the sports-mad culture here puts us both off. Like if Jonas loves/is good at sports when he’s older, great - but if not?

Argh, now I’ve written a novel. Sorry. Anyway, if you’re in the US have a happy and healthy Thanksgiving; if you’re from farther away, have a great week and take care of yourself 😊

Until later, friends. ❤️

#life #real life #2022 #weather #crazy weather #november #indian summer #warm weather #snow #thanksgiving #family #mister’s school #school #thoughts #random thoughts #me and mister #jonas #minerva #cat #cats #cute animals #i love her but GET OFF THE COUNTER #lol

[barid-bel-medar]

Failure to Explode Chapter Two Snippet

“Midoriya was the one who didn’t really engage a robot until he had to save Uraraka, right?” Hizashi asks. “Maybe that was the moment when his Quirk came in? Or maybe it came in like in the past month or so, so the kid is still unsure of how strong he is/how much damage he could do and when he saw Uraraka in danger…”

“Reacted, which is going to need to be trained out of him,” Shouta says, biting back a groan. “The world needs heroes, not martyrs.”

“I’m a bit surprised you didn’t try to expel him,” Hizashi says.

“I thought about it,” Shouta admits. “But I don’t think Midoriya is the sort who’d take that type of ‘reality check’ well, and would just go throw himself into vigilantism or something. He strikes me as smart enough to do it without notice for a while, and the Crawler is back from his sabbatical in the US.”

“...As long as Knuckleduster is retired it should be fine?” Hizashi asks, hesitant.

“I spotted him picking up a six pack in Naruhata.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. So even if I didn’t have Nedzu on my back over not expelling students this year, and Midoriya didn’t seem the type to take the wrong lesson from expulsion, I’d keep him in Heroics just to make sure he stays away from the Crawler and Knuckleduster.” Shouta grimaces. “He did manage to figure out how to only break a finger rather than his entire damn arm to throw the ball, but it’s still not the greatest sign.”

“Let’s see how it goes tomorrow when he has his first Heroics class with All Might,” Hizashi says. “Then you can figure out a lesson plan and what sort of mentors to connect the kid to.”

Shouta winces. He kind of forgot he’d actually need to do that this year. The past three years, due to failing his entire homerooms he’d predominately just done administrative work, with doubling as an in-school sub as needed. That hadn’t really relied on him using his admittedly limited networking abilities to help arrange internships or mentorships for his students. This year he’s going to need to do that.

“...Shouta you did remember you have to do that this year, right?”

“I’ve got some time,” he says, calculating how many people he’s actually on good enough terms professionally to arrange for internships. At least Iida and Todoroki would be easy, the could be thrown at family agencies but for other students…

Actually maybe throwing Midoriya at Endeavor’s agency too if possible? The man may be a raging jackass, but he was well regarded in terms of how competently he trained his sidekicks…

Eh, he’ll figure it out, he has time.

#failure to explode

[raahosh]

Hello! I saw you wrote 18+ one shots and I have a request. If you’re not comfortable that’s perfectly fine, tho!

I was thinking of an Azriel x reader where Azriel just got back from a mission and it’s been a month or so since he and reader have seen/been with each other. Reader tease him and he says something along the lines of “come sit on my face, let me show you just how much I missed you”. And well, let’s just say he missed reader a lot… 👀

Type: Azriel x reader.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses.

Summary: Azriel got back from a mission and let's just say he missed you so much, at the point he wanted to show you for how long he waited for this moment.

Warnings: This is 18+, so if you don't like it just keep scrolling, I know you'll find something that fits you.

Authors note: Thank you so much for requesting. Actually I was urging to make a Azriel x reader, I have one in my drafts that I'm working on, but I didn't know what to do and you gave me the best idea. I hope you like it, and enjoy your reading honey. Any grammar error I'm sorry but this is the first full one that I'm doing in English.

Honor mention to talk about Sarah saying that he's a freak so... Let's say I'm a bit excited for the next book.

Ok, your hate towards Rhysand wasn't even a thing before he kidnapped your mate's attention. You knew there was a lot of things to resolve and political things aren't easy, mainly because we're talking about Prythian and the High Lords aren't really the type of grown man when it comes to internal fights, but you haven't had even a full day with Azriel in a whole month.

Your relationship with Azriel was very affectionate, his love language was skin contact and it might not look like when you're around other people but behind closed doors he was the most clingy you've ever had. And now you didn't have time to even hug him properly in a whole month.

You were at the living room talking to Cassian when you saw your mate arriving. He was destroyed, he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Automatically, you stood up, Cassian didn't even try to argue because he knew his friend needed some woman help at this moment.

He got to walk to the bathroom with your help, where magically you made a bath for him. His body sat down and when the warm water touched his body he relaxed. The shadows were still there, including in his eyes where they were most concentrated, just proving that he hasn't seen a bed in days.

"You look really tired. How was your day?" You tried to turn his attention for you and make it easier for him to distract a little bit.

"Exhausting. I knew Tamlin was hard to work but not that he was a complete asshole who can't even accept help." He sighed.

Your gaze met the bar of soup next to the tub, you grabbed, wet and started rubbing Azriel's back with it, paying double attention to his wings. You knew how sensitive they could be and how Iryllians were when it's about those things.

"I told you, he's not someone... talkable. But I feel some kind of pity after all Hyberns stuff and then I remember what he did to Feyre." You made delicate circles around his back, then his chest and then you put the soap in his hands to let him finish.

You went to the sink to clean your hands and dried it with a towel. When you came back he was finished, you grabbed that soup bar again and started working on his wings. Rubbing slightly, putting less weight in your hands.

"I can't feel anything but angry when it's about him. He could have done so much and chose to be this way." Azriel’s voice was a little darker than before.

"Ok, let's change the subject. Let's talk about you've not been sleeping those days. Love, I know you have a lot of things to do but you're going to kill yourself this way." Your hands went down, and down.

"I know but-" He didn't finish, instead he let out a low moan and grabbed the sides of the tub trying to stay still. "It seems that you got to the part."

Yes, you knew what you were doing. Your relationship with Azriel was long enough for you to have memorized what you can do and where, the many times and how, but now you wanted to tease him. You let your hands move free against his wings, now just them, to make him feel your touch.

"Continue..." You couldn't contain the excitment in your face but your voice was low and husky, it just made Azriels erection pulse a little more.

"You wanna know what, Y/N" His hands met yours. You could feel the warmth on your cheeks, they were getting so red. He took the soap from your hands and adjusted himself on that tub. "What, babe?" You arched your brow.

At this point the bath was cold but it didn't matter because he pulled your hands making you come closer to him. "I think you should get in... here with me." His gaze met your lips and then he kissed you.

Hands.

Lips.

Tongues.

Touch.

You were craving for his touch in a long time. Since Azriel was busy you didn't have times like this with him and even though his presence was everything you wanted you couldn't deny you missed it too. You missed the sensation of his hands trailing your body and his tongue doing magic in your mouth.

There wasn't a thing that Azriel did with bad quality. But you, you were smarter when you just pulled away with a smirk on your face. You took some distance from him, your clothes didn't get longer to be on the floor and Azriel didn't let his eyes meet anything but you. And, if you ask me what was going through his head, you'll know soon.

You stepped ahead and entered the tub, he held your hand and helped you do it. Now, your body was on his lap, your hands tugging his hair when he finally kissed you again. He was hungrier than before, the kiss turned to a making out session, he wanted you and you only, the only thing he could see was you.

"Oh, darling. I'm going to show you exactly how I feel everytime I see you." He said next to your ear. "Did you miss me?" His hand traced your entire body. He went from your arm, to your belly, then found it down there. His fingers trailed it's way and started exploring the territory.

You couldn't even think at this moment and got worse when his middle finger found your clit and started rubbing it slowly. At first you swallowed your moan and looked at him with a heavy breathing, then he fasted the pace, his other finger found your cunt and started to explore more that area.

"Hm, I didn't hear you. You didn't answer my question, darling." His mouth was in your ear, you could handle his hand but along with this husky voice it was impossible.

You let escape a loud moan when two of his fingers started to fuck your cunt, and when I say fuck I mean it. "Y-yes, I missed... Fucking God- I missed you so much." You couldn't even finish a phrase.

"How much did you miss me, gorgeous?" You knew what he was trying to do. The Cauldron knows how bad you wanted to continue his game but it was impossible since he was godly great with his fingers.

You didn't respond, instead just grabbed his shoulder tugging your nails in it while you moved on his fingers chasing some kind of more friction. Your breath was heavy and you could feel it, when he took his fingers out of you and you panted.

"No, love, you're not going to cum now." He stood up and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He took you to the bedroom again and shoved you to bed. First he looked at you, eyes shining with your figure right in front of him. It made you blush but he didn't swerve his gaze, he wanted to memorize every bit of you, skin, hair, lips, your curves, he loved every little detail and the way you always get nervous at those times.

"You're going to just look at me?" You arched your brow.

"Honestly? I could do it all day but I have other plans for you." He bit his lip and came to the top of you.

His hands were one in each side of you, but one of them grabbed your wrists and pushed it up to the top of your head, cuffing it there with just one hand. The other he used to grab his cock and pull it inside you.

You sobbed with his size, he was being gentle with the velocity he was administrating. He was slow, letting you adjust to it, but even like this you were so tight for him, tight enough to make him groan when he got to the base. "You're so fucking great." He whispered.

Then he dropped your hands and grabbed your ankles, he started moving inside you. Gentleness wasn't Azriel's at those times, his pace was rough, you were seeing stars with every thrust, every time his cock was deep and fast. Azriel could be whatever you think but during sex he's not the cute mate you know.

"Az- Azriel" You couldn't even think anymore.

His sight of you was delightful, his pace increased his right hand went to grab your face, with his four fingers in one side and his thumb in the other.

"Look at me, that wasn't what you wanted? Am I the only one who make you feel like this?" He stopped and started thrusting slowly, torturing slowly.

The first made you stutter and choke on your words. "Ye-yes that is what I wanted... You a- Azriel-" In each words you said he made a thrust and the faster you get the faster his pace was, the more you stutter the more he thrusts on you. But he was waiting for you to continue, he wanted you to say it. "You're the only o-one." You reunited all your powers to say it but even though you gaggle at the end.

Azriel grabbed your thighs and pulled it up to his shoulders, giving him a way to go deeper. And so he did, his invests started to get deeper and deeper, you were a mess of sweat, moan, pants and pre-cum when he released inside you and continued until you get the high too. When your orgasm hit you strongly and you creamed Azriel smiled in satisfaction and collapsed beside you.

"Well, I didn't think it'd come to this but I'm not the one to complain." You listened to him while he just laughed and then turned your face to see him. "I love you."

He smiled. When you turned your head you saw that he was already looking at you. "I love you too, Y/N."

#azriel imagine #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #imagine #azriel acotar

[mymelodyheart]

Save The Date Chapter 11 ~What’s Brewing Claire?~

picture credit

 Previously in Stramash ...

Jamie pulled back to look at her face and tipped her chin up to survey the cut on her lips. "He did this?"

She could only nod as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

Jamie turned the gun in his hand and marched towards the door, shouting at the police ushering Jack out to wait. Before Claire could scream for him to stop, he brought his forehead down on Jack's nose in a head butt before handing the weapon to a nearby officer. The sound of cartilage crunching echoed in the tiny room, making Claire wince. Jack fell onto his knees with a loud thud, holding his bleeding nose, shouting improprieties muffled by his hands.

"Now, that was uncalled for, Fraser," an officer clucked, but his grin and the amusement in his eyes implied he wasn't too bothered over Jack's injury. "Now go and get some rest. I'll handle the paperwork and delay the statement for tomorrow morning. You both have done enough to save the day."

  If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

  Jamie studied Claire. She lay relaxed on the examination table, going through her phone and reading messages. She looked untroubled and seemed to have recovered from the ordeal this past weekend. The only tell-tale sign left of that hellish night was the tiny scab on her lower lip and bruising on her right cheek where Jack Randall had struck her. She was whole and safe, and yet here he was, having trouble letting go of that incident.

When he'd helplessly watched Jack shoved a gun against her neck and dragged her away from his sight, he'd felt the full gravity of her vulnerability and his inadequacy to secure her safety. But how Claire had handled the situation was nothing short of mind-blowing, albeit heart-stopping. She'd kept her presence of mind, aptly keeping Geneva talking while the tech specialist monitored the audio listening device. The moment they'd identified the voice on the phone, the administration in Broadmoor had been immediately alerted to make sure Geneva didn't go anywhere until the police arrived.

Geneva and Jack were in jail now, awaiting trial and most likely would stay there for a very long time. He really needed to stop fixating on what could have gone wrong and focus on the matter at hand, like their baby's condition and Claire's health.

He puffed out a breath and sprung onto his feet. "Ye comfy, Sassenach?"

"I'm good," she replied, without looking up from her phone screen.

"Ye ken, we can cancel the baby reveal for another day."

"I know, but I prepared so much food already."

They were having his family and closest friends over for afternoon tea to share the news of their baby. Claire had insisted on a celebration to invalidate the ordeal Geneva had put them through, determined not to allow recent events to cast a shadow over their upcoming nuptials. Jamie had thought it was too soon, but Claire had pressed that the sooner they moved forward from the incident, the better. 

So last night, she'd spent the entire evening preparing shortcrust pastries, scones batter and making Victorian sponge cake. Apparently, she'd taken some lessons in baking and cooking from Mrs Fitz so that she could host parties like Jenny and his ma. It was as if her work, all the travelling she'd been doing, preparing for the wedding and recovering from trauma wasn't enough. She also needed to put up a brave front.

Though the doctor had given Claire an all-clear in London after a routine checkup, Jamie had insisted on another examination when she'd complain of spotting last night. He hadn't a clue what that had meant, but the concerned look on her face was enough for him to push her for another doctor's appointment. To his relief, she'd hardly put up a fight, and he'd immediately arranged a consultation with a private practice to speed things along since the NHS hospitals were notorious for long waits.

"I just want ye to be certain, Sassenach. That's all. I dinnae want this tea party putting a strain on ye."

Claire put her phone down and glanced up at him. "I'm pregnant, Jamie, not incapacitated. I know you're worried about the spotting, but I'm quite certain pregnant women gets them sometimes. I don't feel ill, but here we are, taking precautions."

Sighing, he moved to her side and took her hand in his. "It's just that I'm bothered about that bruise behind yer back. It looks vicious. I ken bruising looks a lot worse than it is, but I cannae help but wonder if the baby has been harmed when ye banged yer behind on those shelving units after Jack pushed ye. I'm concerned about any delayed complications. Or if the doctor in London overlooked something."

She squeezed his hand. "Your worries are valid, Jamie. The odds of miscarriage or complications might be highest in the first trimester, but I haven't had any issues." She shrugged. "Oh, well, except for the tiny spotting last night. I'm sure everything's fine. Try not to worry."

Easier said than done, Jamie thought. How could Claire sit there looking so calm?  Now that she's pregnant, the world was suddenly full of threats: unpasteurised juice and dairy, soft cheeses that she loved so much, fish high in mercury, saunas and hot tubs, secondhand smoke, changing Adso's litterbox. Not to mention aunt Jocasta's bloody stories of baby-abducting fairies. He really needed to stop reading too much pregnancy information; otherwise, he'd go insane.

Claire gave him a look that said she could tell he was overthinking things.

He promptly kissed her on the lips. "Aye, I guess ye're right," he conceded. "I'm sorry for over-reacting."

The door suddenly opened, and in walked a friendly-looking middle-aged female doctor. "Hello, Claire! Dr Fiona Innes. How are we feeling today?"

"I'm good, just a bit nervous about the spotting," Claire breathed. 

"Understandably." Then the doctor turned to Jamie. "And ye're..."

"James Fraser. The one who got her up the duff," he replied, taking the doctor's outstretched hand and giving it a firm shake. 

"Jamie!" Claire gasped, her face crimsoning profusely.

The doctor laughed. "Hah! I like that! A good sense of humour will get ye through anything." She dragged the ultrasound monitor closer to the exam table and pulled up a stool. "So, let's get started so we can put both yer mind at ease, shall we?" She proceeded to put gloves on and prepare the probe that Jamie had the unfortunate luck of knowing already what it was for. "Now, Claire, I want ye to lie back and place yer feet in the stirrups." 

Claire did as she was told while Jamie helped her ease down. He winced when he heard the sound of latex snapping over the probe. He looked away and took Claire's hand in his.

"Is this your first ultrasound visit, Mr Fraser?"

He glanced over his shoulder, thinking the doctor must have noticed the strain on his face. "Aye and no."

Dr Innes arched an eyebrow.

Jamie pointed at the probe and tried not to grimace. "I've seen a doctor used that thing on her when she was hospitalised a few weeks ago. I hadn't known what was going on then, so I walked away and let them get on with it."

"I see." The doctor refocused her attention back to Claire. "Now relax for me and big deep breaths," Dr Innes advised as she put lubricating gel on the blunt tip of the probe. "This will be a tad bit uncomfortable."

Claire shut her eyes and took a deep breath while Jamie whispered all sorts of nonsense in her ear. When her grip clenched into a tight vice, he pressed his lips on the top of her head.

A few seconds passed, and that's when he heard it. He stilled. It was loud, clear and steady. The unmistakable sound of a heartbeat coming from the monitor. It was their baby's. He let out a sharp exhale, realising he'd discovered something powerful in the tiny, vulnerable life form growing in Claire's womb.

His ma once said that the heartbeat was the first music that a child heard and that every bairn was born knowing the rhythm of their mother's song. To Jamie, this was the sound of their child's soul, the unspoken words already speaking volumes. It was as if it was saying, I'm alive and well, can you hear me?

"Weel, that sounds like a strong and healthy heartbeat there," Dr Innes remarked. "See right there?" Jamie and Claire stirred in their positions to take a better look at where the doctor was pointing. "That's yer baby."

Releasing Claire's hand, Jamie stepped closer to the monitor and tipped his head to the side, adjusting his eyes to discern the grainy image on the monitor. When he finally figured out the shape, mixed emotions began to bombard him in all directions. He felt the complexity of love at seeing a piece of himself and Claire on the screen, inspiring fierce protective instinct to kindle within him. Words like elation, joy and sobering responsibility were too meagre terms and did not give justice in describing how visceral all his emotions were.

"T-that ..." Jamie pointed an index finger at the image, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Is that a ..."

"It's not what ye think, Mr Fraser. That's the foot," Dr Innes responded briskly. She shifted the probe at a different angle to capture another image. "As far as I can see, everything seems to be in perfect working order. I can safely say ye have a healthy, strong baby, so ye can both rest easy."

Jamie continued to stare at the monitor, still trying to wrap the idea of impending fatherhood around his head. "The baby is no' missing any parts, is it?"

"The baby has everything it should have at this stage of the pregnancy," the doctor replied, amused. "Though I think we'll need another few weeks to be able to tell the gender."

"Thank you so much, doctor," Claire said gratefully, pushing herself upright. "We were worried about the spotting and thought it might have had to do with the stress and trauma of what happened last weekend. It was mad, really. I nearly got abducted and had a gun pointed at me."

The doctor threw the probe's latex into the waste and began peeling off her gloves, seemingly unaffected by what Claire had just revealed, making Jamie think physicians were used to hearing such stories. The doctor gave them both an understanding look. "Having a gun pointed at ye is quite jarring, so I understand why ye're both concerned. So how are ye coping mentally?" 

"I try not to dwell on it and carry on as usual," Claire shrugged. "So far, I'm dealing with it fine."

The doctor looked at Claire curiously, her expression full of empathy. "Sometimes ignoring it isn't as cut and dried as you think. Try and get some counselling. Ye're going to deal enough with all the hormones impacting yer physiological, physical and mental well being. This is the time to be enjoying this exciting time in yer life, so counselling is just taking a precautionary step to ensure you are in a good place and prepared for what the next few months will throw at ye."

Jamie locked eyes with Claire, and a silent agreement passed between them. They both understood the impact of a traumatising experience, and he wanted to take the doctor's advice on board. 

"I'll make sure she and the baby are well taken care of," he reassured the doctor, patting Claire's thigh.

"I'm sure ye will," the doctor smiled, pressing buttons on the monitor.

"Let's just hope he won't go over the top," Claire added. "He has a tendency to do that."

The doctor pulled out copies of ultrasound images from the printer and glanced up at Jamie. "I can understand the need to protect, but just bear in mind, us women are more resilient and stronger than we look," she pointed out. "And pregnant women aren't as frail as society perceives them to be."

Jamie laughed. "There's no question about that. After all, my wife-to-be here achieved what twenty-four specialist firearms officers could not."

"Oh?" Dr Innes looked surprised. "And what was that?"

"She single-handedly took down a maximum-security prisoner escapee, helped led the police to his psychopathic accomplice and in the process saved an innocent mistakenly imprisoned," Jamie explained. "I ken it was a foolish move with her being pregnant and all ..."

"It might have been foolish, but I happen to believe Claire's response is inherent in all mothers and mothers-to-be, and it's something almost impossible for the human brain to override." 

"Och, aye?"

"It's called maternal instinct, Mr Fraser, and it's as old as life itself." Dr Innes got up and handed him an envelope containing the ultrasound images. "So woe to anyone who dares a mother-to-be or new mother harm because they're utterly more ferocious than any man wielding a gun when it comes to defending their nest." She looked between him and Claire and smiled. "Anyway, congratulations to you both on your coming parenthood." Then she faced Jamie and patted him on the shoulder. "And as for ye, congratulations on yer newly acquired bodyguard. Ye can sleep well tonight." 

..........

Jamie walked in and placed the last of their shopping bags onto the kitchen counter. "Is there anything else ye need, Sassenach, before I go?"

Claire felt him approach and busied herself, placing apples in a large bowl and then lemons in another. "Umm ...I think I have everything I need." She felt his eyes boring into her back but tried her best not to get distracted. "Shall I make a sandwich to take with you?"

"No, I'm no' hungry."

"Oh, alright ...I guess I shall see you later then."

"I have a few minutes to spare. Want to talk?"

"Talk about what?"

"What ye're feeling. Ye haven't said much all morning ...since we left the clinic. And ye hardly talked to me while we went food shopping."

She took out a knife and honing steel from a drawer and went through the motion of sharpening the blade. "Oh ...I guess I must have been preoccupied with my mental to-do list. That's all."

A long silence ensued, and after what felt like an eternity, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Sassenach, can ye stop what ye're doing for a minute and look at me?"

Hot tears suddenly settled behind her eyes, but she fiercely blinked them back and breathed deeply, swallowing down conflicting emotions and refusing to let them fall. She didn't want to be the type of woman who cried at the littlest and inconsequential thing. She'd never been a crier before, and she wasn't about to become one if she could help it.

"I'm busy, Jamie."

"Please."

Bracing herself, she placed down her utensils and faced him. "What is it?"

"This ..." Jamie waved his hand at the shopping bags on the counter. "I ken what this is. Ye havenae sat still ever since we came back from our trip. Ye've decluttered our bedroom and cleaned out all the kitchen cupboards. And now an afternoon tea party? I ken what ye're doing. Ye're keeping yersel' busy to forget what happened in London instead of talking about it."

"No." She shook her head. "It's not that."

Jamie impatiently rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "Weel, what is up with ye then?"

"Hormones."

"Hormones," Jamie echoed. "Why did you no' just say so?"

She felt her face heat up. "I don't know. Maybe I didn't know it at the time. Or perhaps, because it all seems so silly that I'm getting all worked up for nothing."

Jamie stepped closer and braced her cheeks with both hands, a calloused thumb tenderly swiping her lower lip. "Listen to me very carefully. Whatever ye're feeling or going through, hormonal or not, is never silly. Everything ye have to say is important to me. Trust me on that. I always want to know if something is bothering ye and be able to help ye fix it. Yer body is going through many changes, and it's normal yer emotions are all over the place. So no more self-deprecating thoughts about yer feelings. Am I making myself clear?"

She pursed her lips and nodded, tamping down the urge to cry.

"Very well then, tell me what's going through that mind of yers. At least we can clear the air between us before I go, and my whole family comes and start noticing that something isnae right. Today is supposed to be a celebration of our baby. I dinnae want anything to ruin this day in as much as I think we should delay this for another time."

"Fine." She shut her eyes to search for the right words, but no matter how she formulated them in her head, it didn't sound right. Saying it out loud would only make her appear pathetic. But there was no way around it once Jamie set his mind in extracting something from her. 

"Sassenach?"

Her eyes flew open. "Yes?"

"Yer face is getting redder by the second. I'm beginning to worry."

"Very well, if you must know ..." She blew out a breath. "You haven't touched me since that night in London, that's what," she blurted out. "I feel like you're avoiding me. Every time it was time for us to go to bed, you always had some excuse, like you haven't walked the dog or you need to check the emails." Unable to hold it back any longer, she suddenly burst out crying. "I know it's hormones talking, and I'm acting silly. But I can't help but feel the way I feel because I'm hormonal and horny. That's why I'm keeping myself busy, so I will not overthink things. Because if I did, I'd start believing you don't want me anymore, even if logic says it's not true. Happy now?"

He blinked rapidly as if his brain was short-circuiting. 

"Yeah, just the reaction I knew I was going to get. See what I mean when I said I was acting silly?"

"No," he groaned out loud. "Sweet baby Jesus! Ye cannae say things like horny  when I have to go."

Claire slapped Jamie on the chest. "Jamie! You wanted to know what was wrong! Now that I've said it, you can't blame me for it!"

"Cancel the tea party, and I'll tell Willie I'll be late!"

"No!"

"Why no'?"

"Because!"

With a deep groan, he grabbed her neck from behind and gave her a hard kiss. There was nothing tender or playful about it, just a desperate act of trying to get his fill. He let out a frustrated moan as his tongue swept in her mouth, and a hand cupped her breast, his arousal hard and thick against her belly, letting her know how much he wanted her. When he finally broke the kiss, they were both gasping for air. He pressed their foreheads together, breathing harshly into her face. "How could ye think, even in yer hormonal state, I dinnae want ye any more? Damn it, Sassenach, I've been aching for ye these past few days."

"Then why didn't you touch me?" 

He shook his head as he attempted to even his breath. "That night in London, after I took ye back to the hotel, I wanted to bury myself deep inside ye so I could remind myself that ye're really alive and back in my arms. But when I saw that bruising behind yer back and knowing what ye've just been through in yer pregnant state, I thought if I took ye right there and then, I might cause ye irreparable damage, physically and psychologically. I wanted to make sure ye're properly healed first and that our baby was safe. God, all those nights I was away from our bed, I've been doing push-ups to release all those pent-up frustrations of not being able to make love to ye."

"So you did want me all along ..."

He tapped her nose. "Aye, ye silly goose."

"Oh Jamie," she sighed. "You still don't get it, do you?" She placed a hand against his face and smiled for the first time that morning. 

"Get what?" he asked, looking suddenly confused.

"You should know by now, lovemaking is the best stress reliever. I thought you knew that." 

"Weel ..."

"Remember the times when you were all worked up and conflicted, and how much better you felt after sex?" When he nodded, she pressed on. "Whenever you and I have sex, whether it's fast, hard, long or a quickie, it always came from a place of love. And we've talked about this before ...love heals. The most wonderful thing about our lovemaking, it puts us in that intimate space where we can better connect, heal, open us to those hard conversations, helping us in the process to find closure and release. If sex worked for you to ease your stress, why should it be any different for me? I needed you most after that horrendous night, Jamie. I needed your body to ground me. But I understand now why you didn't touch me that night."

Jamie stared at the ceiling and sighed before looking at her with a mixture of wonderment and torment. He let out a pained laugh. "Weel, right now, I'm under a lot of stress and pressure." He took her hand and placed it on his bulging arousal to make a point. "How about we continue this in the bedroom and let off some steam? I'm stressed, and ye're horny. Ideal combo! Ye can use my body anyway ye want."

Claire clucked her tongue and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Oh, no, you don't, you sneaky, Scot! You're running late as it is." She placed both hands on his chest and began pushing him out of the kitchen. "How about you let me get on with food preparation, and you finish what you need to do so you can come home as soon as you can in time for the tea party?" she proposed.

"How about my stress levels?" he grumbled.

"Your stress levels are fine!" She turned him around and smacked him on the bum. "Now go. Mrs Fitz will be here any minute to bring the Battenberg cake I ordered."

At the mention of Mrs Fitz, Jamie didn't need any more prodding. He gave her another quick kiss and left the cottage, muttering something about getting a new house before slamming the door behind him.

..........

The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed by quick, and something in Claire lightened even though she was a nervous wreck hosting her first traditional English tea party.

She looked at the kitchen counter laden with several tiered plates displaying the delicacies she'd meticulously prepared. She was ready, and everything looked perfect. 

She'd made four different tea sandwiches to be on the safe side: pear and stilton, cucumber and cream cheese, egg salad, and smoked salmon and dill. And then there were scones, lemon curd tartlets, fruit tarts, and shortbread and Linzer cookies she was looking forward to gorge on. On the other end of the counter were Mrs Fitz's Battenberg cake and Claire's pièce de résistance, Victoria's sponge filled with jam, berries and double cream. Her teabox was neatly packed with Darjeeling, Earl Grey, and Assam, and the pitchers of lavender and elderflower lemonade were cooling nicely in the fridge. 

Perfection!

She was about to wash the sink when she heard a rap on the window. She looked up and saw Jenny waving at her. Letting her in through the kitchen back door, she was surprised to see her carrying a stack of real estate pamphlets and magazines with its pages tabbed with colourful sticky notes.

"Jen! What's all that?"

Jenny shrugged. "Weel, after what happened to ye in London and with everything going on at the moment, I thought I'd make yer life easier." She plonked down her load on a nearby stool and picked up a magazine, leafing through the pages. "I heard from Willie ye and Jamie are looking for a bigger place. So I decided to grab all these. It has listings of every available property for sale in the surrounding area. Ma and I saved the pages we thought ye and Jamie might like."

"Oh, Jen!" Claire gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

Jenny waved a hand. "Think nothing of it!"

Feeling emotional, Claire gave Jenny a big hug. "That's very thoughtful of you. Thank you so much." When she finally broke away from their embrace, she noticed deep furrows on Jenny's forehead. "Jen? What's wrong?"

Jenny's usually brilliant blue eyes suddenly looked serious as they landed on the bruising on her cheek. "Does that still hurt?" 

Claire touched her cheek. "Oh, this? No, not at all. It looks worse than it is. Poor Jamie getting all these weird looks when we're out and about. He was even accused by some granny of being an abuser. I can understand why but I had to step in and explain to the old dear."

Jenny wrung her hands and gave her a small smile. "Actually, I -I came early because I wanted to talk with ye. Just us two."

"Oh, do you want a drink first?" Claire offered, jerking a thumb in the direction of the fridge. "I have some lemonade ..."

"No! Please! I need to get this out before anything else."

Claire nodded. "Alright then, I'm all ears."

"I-I want to apologise for ..." Jenny's chin crumpled, seemingly attempting to blink back her tears. " ...for what happened to ye in London."

"Wot? Oh, Jen! Why are you apologising? That wasn't your fault."

Jenny raised a hand, which told Claire to let her talk. "It was in some ways my fault, Claire. Geneva was my friend, and I tried to push Jamie and her together. I shouldn't have told her last year there was a vacancy in the village, and then she wouldn't have come back and pursued her interest in my brother. I honestly had no idea she was capable of such horrid deeds. If I'd known, I wouldn't have taken her into my circle of friends and family."

Claire shook her head. "No one could have known, and no one knew. Even her work colleagues and peers were shocked when they found out what she's done. She's a master manipulator, Jen, and she probably manipulated you too under the guise of friendship."

"Still ..." Jenny insisted. "If it wasn't for my meddling ..."

"Stop right there!" Claire wagged a finger at Jenny. "We've locked horns on the subject before and moved on from that already. Alright? Past is past. We all make mistakes. The most important thing is we learn from it. So no more mention of Geneva."

This time Jenny's smile reached her eyes. "Fine! Just dinnae tell Jamie we talked about this."

"Whyever not?"

"Jamie has given everyone in the family strict orders, not to mention about London today."

"Really?"

Jenny nodded. "He didn't want to ruin today's celebration rehashing what happened. Unfortunately, I had to in order for me to apologise, but enough of that now." She clapped her hands. "So, how about that drink. I'm parched." She whirled around and stopped, her eyes widening when she saw the spread Claire had prepared. Walking over to the kitchen counter, she took in everything with a smile. "Goodness, did ye make all these?"

Claire smiled with pride. "I did. Except for the Battenberg cake. Mrs Fitz made it."

"Ye said, ye didnae know how to bake," Jenny said almost begrudgingly. 

"Now I do, thanks to the wifey Bootcamp I attended, also known as Mrs Fitz's kitchen."

"These all look scrumptious. It's been ages since I had a proper English afternoon tea." Jenny glanced up at her and grinned. "So, what are we celebrating?"

Claire nearly blurted out the baby news, but she quickly caught herself. Sliding an arm around her soon-to-be sister-in-law, she walked Jenny to the end of the counter to show her the sponge cake. "Today, we're celebrating love, friends and family."

Jenny poked a finger into the clotted cream and licked. "I like the sound of that. That'll always be a perfect excuse for a celebration or a proper afternoon tea party."

Claire smiled. "I couldn't agree more, Jen. I couldn't agree more."

..........

Jamie came home from work and noticed all the sandwiches, tarts and cakes laid out on the kitchen counter. He was mildly astonished that Claire had been able to prepare so much in the nick of time. He glanced out the window and spied her and Jenny in the garden, busily arranging tablecloths on the long wooden table. Looking at his watch, he realised he had about fifteen minutes to get ready before their friends and family started arriving. 

But first things first.

Stepping out into the backyard, he snuck behind Claire and wrapped his arms around her waist, planting a soft kiss on her neck. "Mmm, ye smell of berries, lemon and lavender," he whispered, running his lips on her bare skin and ignoring Jenny's mumbling about getting a room.

Claire turned in his hold and smiled up at him. "And you reek, mister. You won't be served tea smelling like that."

"Fancy a shower with me then?" he suggested, feeling mischievous. "Jen's here to look out for guests."

"Nice try, but I had a shower already, and Jen is our guest today." 

He leaned down and nibbled her earlobe, making her squeal.

"Jamie, you're going to get my dress dirty. Oh, fiddlesticks ..." She suddenly stilled mid-laughter and made a face, her hand covering her nose. "Urgh ...what's that smell?"

Jamie let her go and took a whiff of his shirt. "Oh, it's just a bit of wood stain I was working with. It'll come off in a wash."

Her face suddenly turned pale. "Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick. Tell Jen I'll be right back ...and you ...you go have a shower before your parents arrive." With that, she spun around and ran back to the cottage.

Stunned, he watched her disappearing form and whistled under his breath. "What just happened?" he muttered, even though he knew the answer had to do with the dreaded pregnancy sickness. She'd been doing so well so far he almost thought morning sickness was nothing but a myth, even though Claire had revealed, she couldn't stand the smell of aniseed, star anise, fennel, and liquorice.

"Maybe, she's pregnant and suffering from sickness?" Jenny replied, walking past him with an armful of wildflowers to put into the empty vases dotted on the wooden table.

He hadn't realised Jenny had returned from wherever she'd disappeared to. He needed to be careful not to reveal their baby news too soon, or the surprise would be ruined. Jenny was simply someone who couldn't keep a secret. 

"Ach, I should have known chemical smells always make her nauseous," he explained, not wanting to give too much away to his perceptive sister.

Jenny twitched her lips from side to side as she trimmed the bouquet's stems with pruning shears. "Aye, that will be right!" she smirked.

He glared at his sister. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged and gave him a knowing look. "Nothing! Now go have a shower, and I'll take care of things here until Claire feels better."

Jamie was about to say more when he heard the sound of a car parking in the driveway. As Jenny made a move to take a look, he quickly made a beeline back to the cottage before anyone saw him, hoping Claire had already recovered from her bout of sickness.

..........

Jamie leaned back on his chair and glanced around. It was a perfect summer late afternoon, and everyone seemed to be having a great time and enjoying the food Claire had prepared. The sun warmed his face and bathed the garden in dazzling light, making the different shades of green and the profusion of wildflowers more vibrant and alive. The chatter was lively, and funnily enough, no one complained about the lack of alcohol which was highly unusual for a gathering in Scotland. But, he suspected his godfather must have a flask of whisky or something similar tucked away somewhere as he was getting louder and more boisterous as time went by.

He took Claire's hand in his, and she turned his way and smiled. Her face looked pale, but there was an aura of tranquillity radiating from her that told him she was happy and content. Though her plate was full of food, it remained untouched, and if anyone had noticed, no one said anything. "How are ye feeling, Sassenach?"

She took a huge deep breath, held it in for a few seconds and then relaxed. "I'm fine," she sighed. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

He knew she was valiantly fighting back the sickness that must be creating havoc in her body but was too stubborn to give in to it. "Shall we tell them about the surprise so you can finally have a rest?" he suggested in a low voice, so no one would hear. "It cannae be comfortable sitting here when ye feel so unwell."

She shook her head as she gulped in more air. "I want to wait for uncle Lamb. He'll be here soon."

Quentin's plane from Athens should have arrived four hours ago but was delayed because of some mechanical issues. Jamie hoped for Claire's sake Quentin was on his way and wasn't dilly-dallying somewhere, like planning a grand entrance. Jamie kissed her cheek, hoping to sweet talk her to giving up this charade of wellness. "I'm pretty sure ye're uncle will understand once he finds out about yer condition."

"I know," Claire murmured. "But I want today to be perfect and complete. I want to see uncle Lamb's face when we announce it."

"But it's already perfect."

"Not without uncle Lamb."

Jamie prayed for patience and tamped down the urge to haul this beautiful but infuriating woman in his arms and carry her to bed. He squeezed her hand and yielded to her request, knowing this get-together was important to her. "Whatever ye say, Sassenach. Just let me know if ye need anything."

"I will," she replied between sharp intakes of breath.

Jamie decided not to press anymore. He knew this was one battle he couldn't win without creating a scene in front of their friends and family. But if Claire thought she was pulling this act off, Jamie was convinced, his perceptive family had already caught on with what was passing. Claire was a terrible actress, and she couldn't even lie to save her life.

Fortunately, their intimate tea party was animated and loud, and it diverted the attention from Claire. Directly opposite them, Tom and Willie were discussing the merits of owning a mini campervan for spontaneous weekend trips around the Highlands. On one end of the table, Murtagh passionately ranted and raved to Brian and uncle Duncan about the Tories and how SNP was the solution to Scotland's political future. Next to Claire, Annalise showed Ellen and aunt Jocasta how to work the Instagram app while Jenny, Mary and Geillis cackled over some celebrity gossip they've probably read somewhere. Grannie Annie had meanwhile fallen asleep in her seat with Adso in her lap and Rollo at her feet. At the far end of the garden, Finlay, Geillis' boyfriend and Ian were having a go at playing badminton but kept hitting the shuttlecock over the hedge to both their frustration. 

Though Jamie was happy the tea party had gone as planned, he couldn't relax, too worried about Claire predicament. If it got to the stage where Claire lost any more colour to her face, he was sure no one would be able to blame him for whatever course of action he would take next.

"Right, does anyone want some fresh cuppa?" Claire suddenly announced, getting up from her seat.

Annalise immediately jumped to her feet. "I can do that."

Willie got up too. "I'll put the kettle on."

"I'll clear up the empty dishes," Geillis offered, already grabbing an empty tiered plate stand. "We dinnae want this stunning antique piece being knocked over, now do we?"

Ellen reached over to Claire from her seat and patted her hand. "Everything was lovely, dear. I couldnae decide which was my favourite. And that lavender lemonade was refreshing."

"Aye," Murtagh piped in as he got up and sat directly opposite Claire. "I bet it will taste even better with gin or vodka."

Brian frowned at Murtagh. "The lavender lemonade tastes good as it is. There's nae need to spoil it with alcohol. Besides, it's good for ye to give yer poor liver a wee break. If ye're no' careful, yer gene pool will soon have a swim-up bar."

"I dinnae drink that much," Murtagh grumbled. 

"Aye ye do," Aunt Jocasta pointed out. "Dinnae think for one minute I didnae notice ye've been spiking yer tea."

Before Murtagh could retort, Geillis came back in time with a steaming mug and placed it in front of Claire.

"Ooh, what's this?" Claire asked, looking into her drink.

"It's ginger and turmeric tea," Geillis declared. "It's good for ye. I brought it with me from Glasgow. It's organic, and thought ye might like it."

Jamie couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew ginger tea or any form of ginger were effective in reducing nausea. Claire probably knew too because her eyes lit up and gave Geillis an appreciative nod. If he wasn't a hundred per cent certain earlier, everyone knew about Claire's condition, now he's more convinced than ever they were playing along. Jamie appreciated the gesture, but this had gone on too far. Where the bloody hell is Quentin?

"I'm back!" boomed a voice, waking grannie Annie up. It was as if Jamie's thoughts had conjured Claire's uncle from thin air, and there he was making a grand entrance as Jamie had expected. "I hope there are some leftovers. I'm famished."

Claire laughed, twisting around on her seat to watch her uncle approaching. Ellen got up and started plating some food for Quentin.

"There's plenty of leftovers," Annalise assured as she placed another platter of sandwiches on the table. "Claire made enough for the entire village."

Quentin gave Claire a quick kiss on the forehead before greeting the rest of the party, who'd gathered back around the table. "Sorry for the delay," he apologised, finally taking a seat next to Claire. "Our plane was stuck on the tarmac without any air conditioning. We had no choice but to sit there and stew in the heat while the engineers fixed the plane."

"Well, I'm glad you're here now," Claire said, looking adoringly at her uncle. 

Quentin stared at the bruising on her cheek. "I don't like the look of that. It looks ..."

Sounds of several throats clearing ensued, a signal to Quentin not to pursue the London topic any further.

"Very well," Quentin nodded in understanding. "I'm glad too that I'm here."

Claire smiled. "Alrighty, so now that everyone's here, Jamie and I have an announcement to ..."

"Hold that thought, sweetheart," Quentin interrupted as he bent down to retrieve the holdall he'd placed at his feet. "I brought a souvenir."

Jamie bit his tongue at the interruption.  

"I hope it's not another ceramic plate," Claire groaned, unaware of Jamie's frustration.

"No. I got something better." Quentin waggled his bushy eyebrows as he unzipped his bag and proceeded to rummage through its contents. "Wait for it! Wait for it!" Suddenly he yanked out a bottle and held it up for everyone to see. "I got Ouzo!" he announced with satisfaction.

"Yesss, ya beauty!" Murtagh cheered happily, banging a hand on the table. "I love Ouzo."

Aunt Jocasta scowled at Murtagh. "Ye like anything alcoholic. Ye'll drink Listerine if it was placed in front of ye."

"What's Ouzo?" Claire asked as she stared curiously at the offering. "I mean, I've heard of it before, but I've forgotten what it is."

Jamie was about to fill in the information and tell her she wouldn't be able to stand the smell of it when Quentin expertly uncapped the bottle and held it under Claire's nose. Oblivious to Jamie's hitch of breath, Claire pressed her nose closer to the opening of the bottle to take a better whiff. Ah, shite!

"It's an anise flavoured liquor," Quentin described. "Mostly served as an aperitif in Greece.."

Jamie watched in awe as Claire's head jerked back and her face contorted when her senses registered the smell, and a low, gurgling sound came from deep down in her belly. He winced, half expecting any moment now a horrific scene of projectile vomiting, and the recipient would be none other than his godfather sat opposite her. But Claire jumped to her feet, startling everyone, and her hand immediately clapped over her mouth, golden eyes bright and tearing up. Quick thinking Jenny, grabbed a sprig of mint she'd put in the vase, macerated it in her hands and offered it to Claire. Everyone gasped and watched in fascination as Claire took the green leaves and stuffed her mouth with them, and began to chew, jaws working overtime, reminding Jamie of a cow feeding in the fields. Nobody said a word, waiting for the next scene to unfold or for someone to offer an explanation.

Swallowing audibly, Claire finally untensed and slumped back down to a loud hearty burp. And as if nothing had happened, she calmly drank a good measure of her ginger tea, put the mug down and then smiled. "Sorry about that. So where were we again?"

Eyes bulging almost out of his head, Quentin sputtered before he managed to string a coherent sentence together. "W-What the bloody hell was that? Was that some kind of weird side effects from what happened in London that I have no idea of?"

Claire looked at Jamie, looking suddenly exhausted. "Can you please tell them?"

"Tell me what?" Quentin bristled.

Jamie dropped his head on his folded arms resting on the table and allowed it to bounce once. Twice. Thrice. God must have taken pity of him because when he glanced up, everyone shouted in chorus. "Claire and Jamie are having a baby!"

   Dear Readers,

Thank you all for the response and feedback I received for my previous chapter. I know it got a bit crazy; therefore, today's update is more subdued to allow everyone's breathing to go back to normal.  Nevertheless, I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much I've enjoyed writing it for you.

Anyway, I hope you're all keeping safe and taking care of yourself and mostly taking the time to enjoy the last days of summer. Keep up the good vibes and be well. X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #savethedate #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 26 - ao3 -

“Qiren-xiong, would you like me to keep them back a little longer?” Lan Yueheng asked anxiously. He’d been biting his lip and wringing his hands and pacing hard enough to leave a mark on the floor. Lan Qiren really ought to let him go back to his mathematics and his alchemy, to abandon this sad sorry world of politics that the rest of them were mired in for the purer joys of academic discovery. “It’s just, they’re getting really insistent on talking with you…”

Lan Qiren sighed and put down the cup of tea that had already cooled without him taking a single sip.

“No,” he finally said. “It’s fine. I’m amazed you managed to keep them back this long.”

He had been working very hard these past few days. He’d just wanted a short break. An afternoon of silence, or even just a few shichen...

Apparently, he couldn’t even get that now. 

Lan Yueheng beamed. “I got Zhang Xin to help! She’s keeping them all back – elders and teachers and fellow disciples and all.”

Lan Qiren frowned a little, thinking of the lady in question, who was fierce and fiery but definitely not fearsome or well-respected enough to hold back the teeming tide of Lan sect members desperate for Lan Qiren to stop ignoring them. “…do I want to know how?”

“With a club!”

Lan Qiren did not want to know how.

“I put explosives in the –”

“Please stop explaining,” Lan Qiren begged.

“You asked.”

Technically, Lan Qiren had asked if he wanted to know, but he shouldn’t stand on technicalities. Especially not now that he was –

He stopped that thought before completing it.

“Go out and tell them that I will not be taking any questions on my living conditions, quarters or clothing, any of the current rule modification proposals - it’s far too soon - and certainly none that are just about the current situation, and also that anyone who doesn’t have a question is not welcome,” he decided. “If there’s anyone left over, they can come inside and pose their question. If it’s not a good one, I will impose punishment on the basis of Concentrate on cultivation.”

In the end, there were only three people admitted out of the disappointed throngs of disciples outside. The first two questions were appropriate ones, being both purely administrative and critically necessary to the running of their sect; the last, however…

The disciple in question was one of the gate-guards.

He saluted. “There are visitors on the way in,” he reported. “From other sects.”

“Didn’t I already give orders that all access tokens not currently in the Cloud Recesses be revoked, and no new ones issued?” Lan Qiren asked curtly. “We are not currently accepting guests, and will not be until matters have been settled. You may inform them as much.”

The disciple hesitated.

“What is it?”

“The visitors in question…” The disciple hesitated again, and Lan Qiren frowned. “It’s Sect Leader Nie and Sect Leader Wen.”

Lan Qiren had been reaching for his cup of tea again, but his fingers stopped in mid-air.

“They’ve been very stubborn. Neither has agreed to go, no matter what we tell them, and they’ve been there all day, saying that they’ll stay standing at our gate until we let them in. Do – do the same orders apply to them?”

Lan Qiren looked down at his hand, frozen in midair. His fingers were trembling a little. Strain, probably; he’d had a very bad time for quite a while now, and even though he’d taken the time for it, he hadn’t actually slept properly. He’d only lain in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to absorb whatever little rest he could.

“They do,” he finally said, putting his hands back into his lap as if he could hide his misery from himself. “Dismissed.”

The last disciple left.

“Why won’t you let them in?” Lan Yueheng asked from behind him. “They’re your friends, aren’t you?”

He paused, falling silent for a brief moment.

“You could use friends right now, Qiren-xiong,” he finally said. “You really could.”

“I know,” Lan Qiren said, and felt the bitterness rise up in his throat until it almost choked him. “They are my friends, and one even more, my sworn brother. They are that, but they are not only that – they are also the sect leaders of two of the other Great Sects. Even if they don’t want to cross me or hurt me, their sect obligations must be always in the forefront of their minds, be their primary care and consideration, just as the Lan sect must be mine.”

Now, he added. Must be mine, now.

“But…”

“The sect comes first, Yueheng-xiong.” Lan Qiren was so tired that it felt like a physical ache. “It has to come first. First and foremost, above everything else. Haven’t we seen what happens if that’s not what’s done?”

Wasn’t everything they were suffering now all because his brother had put himself first, instead of the sect? He had equated his interests with the sect and in doing so harmed the sect so deeply, harmed all their family and all the rest of them, everyone that relied on them...how could Lan Qiren willfully repeat such a mistake, no matter how much he longed sometimes to do so?

“But -!”

“I’ve made my decision.”

“It’s the wrong one,” Zhang Xin said from the door, still holding that club of hers and looking as fierce as a small angry dog. “You’re the rule expert, aren’t you? Stop thinking about your brother for a moment and focus on them. As far as I’ve always heard, the rules say that you can’t just care for the sect, you have to care for yourself, too. Or else who’d be left to care for the sect?”

Lan Qiren flinched and looked down at his hands again.

He supposed she had a point.

“Yueheng-xiong,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Go after that disciple. Tell him…tell him that they still can’t enter, but that he should pass along a message to them. Tell him to tell them…” He hesitated. “If they truly wish to remain nearby, I will be available to meet with them in Caiyi Town ten days from now.”

That should be enough time to settle everything if he really exerted himself, Lan Qiren thought. All the preparations that needed to be made before the world could find out what had happened.

“They don’t have to,” he added, bitterness curling in his gut even as he tried to make it clear that he was speaking in earnest. “If they don’t want to. I won’t be offended if they don’t.”

After all, it would be asking rather a lot, forcing them to stay outside doing nothing for such a long time. Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie: they were sect leaders both, Great Sects at their command, and not possessed of a great deal of spare time. More than that, neither of them were especially patient people in the best of times, and much less so now that they were currently at odds with each other – though perhaps the fact that they’d put up with each other’s company long enough to yell at his gate-guard suggested that their recently frozen-over relationship had perhaps at last started to thaw. 

Anyway, Lan Qiren wasn’t even doing them the courtesy of offering them accommodations within the Cloud Recesses, as anyone might reasonably expect. They’d have to stay in Caiyi Town instead, take a room at an inn like any ordinary mortal…truly, it would not be a surprise if they did not choose to stay.

It would be fine if they didn’t stay. It would be.

“I’ll pass it along,” Lan Yueheng promised, and ran out the door. Zhang Xin sniffed, but said no more. It was clear she would have preferred he do more, perhaps go and speak to them immediately, but she also knew that she’d pushed her insolence about as far as she could take it. 

She was very brave.

“You should marry him,” Lan Qiren told her, thinking to himself that someone ought to be happy even if it wasn’t him, and she blinked at him. “Yueheng-xiong. He looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky.”

Zhang Xin blinked again, and then flushed. “Well…”

“You like romances, don’t you? Why not take the next step on this one?”

She waved her hands at him. “We’ll get there! Don’t rush us.”

“You don’t have parents, right?” Lan Qiren pressed. “If you like, I can act for them in making the arrangements –”

“I’ll consider that,” she hissed, her face now bright red. She pointed the club at him, and Lan Qiren hastily raised his hands in surrender; he knew what Lan Yueheng’s explosives were like. “Go back to moping. I’m starting to think I liked you better that way.”

Lan Qiren didn’t think she did.

“I need more ink,” he said instead. If he was going to have to make up for all of his brother’s failings and get the Lan sect into the state it needed to in order to be ready to face the storm that awaited them outside their gates within ten days, he would need to work hard, and that meant starting now. “Please fetch some for me. I promise not to bring it up again.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but bustled off, and Lan Qiren turned to apply himself to work.

Work was – he could do the work.

As long as he didn’t have to think about why he was doing it, or how long he would need to do it, not think about how this work wouldn’t just be for now but for the rest of his life, he could do it.

It took the full ten days and several sleepless nights, interspersed with sleep borne of pure exhaustion, but in the end Lan Qiren managed to make all the preparations he thought were necessary to minimize or at least endure the loss of face that the Lan sect would subject to once the world heard of rumors of what had happened. Even with the sanitized, filtered, cleaned-up version of it that they intended to spread, it would still hurt their reputation.

“You should take several days to yourself,” his music teacher advised, looking genuinely concerned, and his swordsmanship teacher nodded in agreement. “There will be more work to come, but none so soon.”

Lan Qiren nodded, being too tired to care about them worrying about him now, and went to the gate.

“Zhu Dawei,” he called, recognizing the disciple there. It was the same one who had brought him the news, ten days back; the one he’d sent back with the message. “Was there…”

He trailed off, not sure how to ask the question without seeming overly pathetic – by chance, do you know if my sworn brother and best friend abandoned me and returned to their sects, as any reasonable person would, or did they decide to wait an unreasonably long time in order to talk to me?

Zhu Dawei saluted adroitly. “Sect Leader Wen and Sect Leader Nie said to tell you that they will be waiting for you at the inn along the main waterway in Caiyi Town, the one with the red awning. They’re planning on dining at you hour if you would like to join them.”

He had good friends, Lan Qiren thought, feeling stabbing pains of emotions in his chest that he thought might even be a good thing. He nodded. “My thanks,” he said, and headed down the mountain.

Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie were there in the inn in one of the private suites that were available for rich guests, sitting at a table laid out with all the local specialties: six different dishes and tea and wine. They were bickering over something or another – Lan Qiren didn’t strain himself to listen, only paused a little outside the door, watching them both for a moment. 

Having been forced to spend ten days’ time in close proximity had clearly been good for them: they were practically back to the way they had been before they’d fallen out, each one clearly genuinely at ease - Wen Ruohan with his smirks and his haughty sneers, Lao Nie with his booming laugh and expressive scowls. Perhaps they had even had the opportunity to actually talk to each other, to clear the air between them and make plain their respective positions, which Lan Qiren had been starting to think they never would - that Wen Ruohan would grow so resentful that he’d shut off his heart again and take Lao Nie back on the condition that he never speak of it again, and so let it fester as an unhealed wound. Lan Qiren had worried about the terrible things that might come of such lingering rage. He had not liked it, but had felt helpless to change it: after all, who on earth could force these two men to stay near to each other when they did not want to?

Him, apparently.

They looked good together, suited each other, he thought, watching them both. They were both tall and strong, fine men that exuded power and fierceness and determination in equal measure; it was a real pity that they weren’t quite the right match for each other.

Lao Nie caught sight of Lan Qiren standing at the door first. The moment he did, he turned away and rose to his feet. “Qiren! There you are – come in – sit! Sit, sit – have you eaten?”

“Earlier,” Lan Qiren said, coming in and trying to raise his hands in a salute that got quickly knocked aside. “I could eat again.”

“We insist on it,” Wen Ruohan said, looking him over with a judgmental frown. “I think you’ve gotten thinner…he’s gotten thinner, hasn’t he, Lao Nie?”

Lao Nie held Lan Qiren at arms length and looked him over critically. “Normally, Hanhan, I’d accuse you of being a mother hen and never let you live it down ever again,” he remarked, “but in this case I really think you’re right. His face is thinner than it was before, definitely a sign of losing weight too rapidly…tell us what happened, Qiren. There’s been no news at all from the Lan sect, only that there was some sort of crisis – some violence – and then all the gates to the Cloud Recesses were shut.”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, rubbing at his temples. He didn’t really want to think about it, but there was no avoiding it. “They were. The full details will be announced at the next discussion conference, which is coming up rapidly.”

“It is,” Lao Nie said. “I should know; I’m hosting. Will you tell us in advance what the news is?”

“I will.”

“Food first,” Wen Ruohan interjected. “No talking during meals, remember?”

Lao Nie made a face at him, but Lan Qiren smiled thinly at his sworn brother’s poorly concealed kindness and sat down. He ate quickly, the food largely tasteless on his tongue even though it was finely made and featured many of his favorites. They must have ordered them especially, knowing that he was coming tonight.

The quiet was a welcome reprieve, and allowed him to think over what he was going to say a little more thoroughly. He’d known, of course, that he’d have to tell them, but he hadn’t yet settled on exactly how to force the words from between his teeth…

When dinner was done and the dishes cleared, the only thing left on the table being the tea and the wine, he cleared his throat. “Did you rent the room?” he asked, and they nodded. “For how long?”

“We booked the whole month,” Wen Ruohan said carelessly. “It didn’t cost as much as all that.”

Caiyi Town was the nearest town to the Cloud Recesses, which was full of very rich cultivators. The prices here were far higher than a comparable inn in another place, and were nowhere near cheap even for a night - much less a month. More than that, Lan Qiren hadn’t seen any other guests, which made him suspect that Wen Ruohan had rented not only the room but the entire inn, making it the sort of expenditure more commonly seen among the scions of Lanling Jin.

Still, Lan Qiren did not complain or point out the inaccuracy. Not when he had hoped for something exactly like that.

“Good,” he said, and reached up to his forehead ribbon.

Both Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie gaped at him in stunned disbelief as he removed it, carefully folding it up like the precious thing that it was and tucking it away into his sleeve for safekeeping – even though the process took some time to accomplish, they had not yet recovered by the time he was done. They looked a bit like gawping fish.

“The forehead ribbon reminds you of your self-restraint,” Lan Qiren quoted. “I do not intend to maintain it tonight.”

More gawking. He ignored it.

“I’m intending on getting drunk,” he clarified, nodding at the jars of wine on the table. “I’ll drink as much as you allow me to. Could you keep an eye on me and make sure I don’t leave the premises? I can’t lose face for the sect right now, but both of you are considerably stronger than me, and faster, too. You can keep an eye on me and restrain my behavior, if necessary, and I would appreciate it if you would.”

“…of course,” Wen Ruohan said, exchanging glances with Lao Nie. “If that’s what you want, little Lan. We’ll care for you.”

“Can we ask why?” Lao Nie asked, always the blunt one.

Lan Qiren looked down at the table, gathered his courage, and looked back up at them. “I’m going to be attending the next discussion conference,” he said, and even he could hear how dull and depressed his already monotonous voice was. “At that time, you will need to call me Sect Leader Lan.”

“Sect - Sect Leader…? You?” Lao Nie was gaping again. “But – you –”

“What happened to Qingheng-jun?” Wen Ruohan asked, his eyes already narrowed as his mind rapidly churned over the information. 

“He has entered permanent seclusion,” Lan Qiren said. His fingers had tightened into fists again, and his knuckles were white from the strain. “Along with his wife.”

“His – wife?”

“He Kexin?” Wen Ruohan asked. “He’s married – no, she married him?”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, because friends or no, brother or no, they were still sect leaders, still outsiders. He could not share with them the full story, at least not yet, not until he’d made sure they couldn’t use it against his sect. Not until there was a story that the whole world would accept as the truth. “They are married, and secluded. I am the next in line, and have therefore taken on the position.”

“But you wanted to travel,” Lao Nie said. “To play music, to go see new places. You had all those plans –”

Lan Qiren flinched.

“Be silent,” Wen Ruohan told Lao Nie. “Can’t you see you’re just making it worse? He knows.”

Yes, Lan Qiren knew. No one knew better than him the dreams he’d had, the plans he’d made, how much it had been a fixed part of his life – stronger than mere hope, it had been an expectation. He had never imagined that his life wouldn’t be what he planned to make of it.

He never imagined his life would be…like this.

“It is temporary,” he added, the rotten feeling of disappointment coating his tongue like a swallow of bitter medicine. “An examination has revealed that He Kexin is pregnant with my brother’s child. Although it is far too early for any medical indications, divination suggests that it will be a boy.”

And even if it wasn’t, well, Lan Yi had set a precedent for women to be allowed to be sect leaders, too.

The sect elders had compared the exceptional qualities of Lan Qiren’s brother against Lan Qiren’s own, compared their respective talents for cultivation and temperaments and their ways with people. That analysis complete, they had suddenly changed their tune: no more did they try to comfort Lan Qiren for his crushed dreams by painting pictures of the power he would obtain, of his children inheriting after him – as if Lan Qiren had ever cared about power, he who had never coveted the position of sect leader even once in his life, and had on account of his inclinations, or lack thereof, had already given up hope of children – and instead they spoke instead of Lan Qiren’s duty to his brother’s legitimate bloodline, his duty to the sect overall.

Lan Qiren had listened in silence for a while, barely restraining from sneering at their shallow and obvious hypocrisy, before striking a deal with them: he would take on the role of acting sect leader, as he had already known he had no choice but to do, and in time he would willingly step aside for his brother’s heir or heirs, if there was more than one, but he insisted on being the one to raise them.

He didn’t especially want to raise children, having no idea if he would be any good at it, but he didn’t trust anyone else in his sect to prioritize raising the children as children – as people of their own, rather than extensions of their father, as another chance to correct the mistakes of the past. To raise them with the rules as guidance, as support in times of weakness and pride in times of strength, not as an obstacle to be overcome; to try to do whatever he could to help them avoid the faults of the prior generation without crushing their souls the way his brother had tried to crush his.

He would give this unborn nephew or nephews everything he could. He would give them the rules, and he would protect them from them; he would spend the rest of his life exerting himself to clean up the sect until it was something worth inheriting, and then he’d give them that, too.

“Congratulations,” Lao Nie said blankly, and Wen Ruohan elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Lan Qiren chuckled humorlessly. “He’ll be only a few years younger than yours,” he said to Lao Nie. “And about of age with your second when he’s born, da-ge.”

“You don’t deserve this,” Wen Ruohan said, his mouth twisted with bitterness that for once had nothing to do with his own desires. “You deserve better.”

Lan Qiren appreciated the thought.

He appreciated them both being angry on his behalf, which they so clearly were. Lao Nie’s face had grown black with rage, his brows tight as if pulled taut with a string, and while Wen Ruohan’s face was calm and sedate as always, his qi seethed and hissed and coiled around them all as if he could keep away Lan Qiren’s duties by sheer force of will. He might even try, if it was something Lan Qiren would consider letting him do.

It wasn’t, though.

“The sect’s needs come first,” he said simply. “You both put your sects above yourselves; you know how it is. It’s the same for me.”

“You still deserve better,” Lao Nie said, and shook his head. “Hanhan’s right. You really do. I’m so sorry, Qiren. I should’ve been there to help more – shouldn’t have been so distracted –”

“Nothing could have been done to change it,” Lan Qiren said. He didn’t disagree, knowing as he did how careless Lao Nie had been over it all, but if he were to blame Lao Nie, he might as well blame Wen Ruohan, who he knew for a fact did know about it and didn’t bother to try to intervene – but he didn’t want to blame his sworn brother, who had no responsibility here, and he didn’t much want to blame Lao Nie, either, even if he’d said some very stupid things from a distance. It had only ever been his brother’s fault; there was nothing else for it. “It’s…”

He trailed off, not able to say it was fine, because it wasn’t. It just wasn’t true.

Do not tell lies.

“I’ll live,” he said instead, because that was. No matter what, he had to live. His sect depended on him, his not-yet-born nephew depended on him. “I’m going to become a teacher, instead. It’ll give me something to do.”

He would have more than enough to do as the sect leader, of course, acting or otherwise, and with him just barely into his early twenties he was very young to be a teacher. But he desperately wanted something that wasn’t just the sect’s, something all his own, and he had planned on being a teacher, too. Much later in life, of course, but – it was still something.

Something of his own.

Maybe he’d push the elders for permission to have children from other sects come for lessons, just to mimic the variety of the world that he was no longer permitted to go see. Sect leaders feather their own nests with the stories of others, he’d once told Cangse Sanren, that’s a way of living, too…

He had to think of it that way. If he didn’t, he’d think instead of what she said, a caged lark singing only for a select few, and that would be worse. 

“Do you have any more questions?” he added, not wanting to think of anything at all any longer. “If not, I would very much like to get drunk on your wine, if you don’t mind.”

Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie exchanged glances again, some secret communication that Lan Qiren didn’t bother to try and fail to decipher – truly, if there was one good part to the entire disaster it was that they had overcome their distance in truth rather merely on the surface – but then Wen Ruohan nodded firmly and Lao Nie began to set out the drinking bowls.

“For once, I’m almost looking forward to hearing about your sect rules,” Wen Ruohan remarked. “As long as you just tell me about them, this time, and don’t knee me in the –”

Lan Qiren grabbed at the drinking bowl, glaring at him, and Lao Nie laughed. “Let’s see how much you can tolerate,” he said cheerfully. “The liquor here is pretty mild, so start with one bowl and tell me how you’re feeling after –”

Lan Qiren drank the bowl, grimacing a little at the taste, and remembered nothing more.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

[tracybirds]

I was very determined to finish something today :D Yo all knw I’m back in lockdown which like... bro every time I try to write a thing that seems to happen so I’m snowed under again......................... Anyway, decided to finish up the exhausted Virg fic I began on Friday the 13th of August and how has it nearly been a month of lockdown already?? anyway I’m reposting the first bit with this, but wanted to say thank you to everyone who left comments on that snippet and encouraged me!! And big thanks to @gumnut-logic who read the first, slightly sleep-deprived first version of this before it underwent edits

It’s 11:30pm, my brain is no longer functioning, anyways, enjoy <3

 --------------

Virgil drags his leaden feet across the floor, still pink from the hot water, barely acknowledging Scott and Alan, chatting lightly together as he walks past them.

He’s not ready to sleep, but he’s not much good for anything else either.

He’s tired from the ground up. The exhaustion is only in his feet, his calves, his thighs, but it reaches up into his mind all the same. His shoulders ache, but it’s from good work and kind deeds, a balm for any residual overthinking.

He did good today, he knows it, can feel it in every torn muscle fibre.

He’ll just rest for a moment or two. Debrief can wait. John’s probably already written up most of the report.

He collapses onto the nearest sofa, but it’s more muscle memory than aim that lands him safely amongst the cushions.

“Cannonball!” crows a voice from somewhere above him, followed by a sharp yell of “Gordon, no!” and a crash that reverberated through his skull.

Then it hits him, and he launches himself sideways.

Gordon dives onto the sofa, arms and smile wide, as though he hadn’t just come off the same seven-hour mission plus bonus two-hour administrative argument with the nearest hospital who had just had their landscaping done.

And now, incidentally, redone.

Virgil glares from the floor.

“How’s it going, V?” Gordon says, still grinning.

“Ow.”

“Did you fall off the couch? You’ve gotta be careful about these things, you know.”

Short, sharp, monosyllabic words might be enough to fend off some lower forms of life, but Gordon is rather like moss, clinging to hard rock. Virgil opts to ignore him instead as he picks himself up with a groan.

A strong, sure hand grasps his arm and he accepts the extra leverage gladly, hauling his stiff muscles upright and stretching them carefully. He can see the chair Scott had leapt from halfway across the room. Alan isn’t even pretending he’s not laughing, the jerk.

Gordon is nestling, smirking as he burrows down into his cushions.

“Let it go,” he mutters, his hand now resting on Scott’s shoulder. He can’t handle a shouting match now, jackhammering into his brain after a day filled with enough pain.

Scott settles for pulling the cushions from under Gordon’s head and he falls back onto the hard frame with a squawk.

Alan’s laughter erupts again and Virgil doesn’t bother to smother his own smile.

Gordon sits up and his eyes are shining.

“Fine, fine, I deserved that,” he says, grinning up at Scott. “Now, get lost and put the large lump to bed, I checked the stats. There’s fifteen miles registered on his pedometer and he basically hauled three tons today.”

“Not all at once, Gordon, stop exaggerating.”

Gordon shrugs.

“I know the medical studies as well as you do. Sure, they might not think rescue work counts as overtraining, but science doesn’t lie.”

“But, people do,” Virgil says, scowling at him. Each word ripped more energy from his depleted stores. “And I was resting, thanks.”

Gordon lifts a finger, waggling it with a half-smile.

“A couch isn’t a substitute for a bed,” he says, dropping his voice to mimic Virgil’s own. “How many times did you say that to me?”

“When you had a broken back!”

“Right, that’s enough.” Scott steps forward between the bickering brothers. “Decompression time for you both.”

Virgil blinks, realising that he was stooping to an argument with Gordon. Gordon, who always fought dirty, twisting intent and laughing in a way he never could manage. He must be tired.

“Virgil, can you get up to your rooms alone?”

“Yeah,” he says, holding himself upright against the sudden wave of exhaustion. It was as though in remembering he was meant to be tired, his body had decided to lean into that realisation.

“And Gordon…” Scott pauses, eyeing Gordon who was still fairly vibrating with energy even after nine hours in the field. “Go watch a fish or something. Just stay away from each other.”

Virgil is already halfway out the door and his ears have been stoppered by weariness, the external world becoming fuzzy. He doesn’t hear Gordon’s quick reply.

He doesn’t hear Alan’s sharp cry either, doesn’t even register the way the world is tilting sideways.

He merely crumples on the floor in the hallway.

***

Virgil wakes slowly, awareness seeping into his bones and spreading outwards. His neck is propped up at an awkward angle; he’s resting on the pillows that he rearranges around him every night and they are much too high.

He moans a little as he shuffles, his neck creaking as it falls back in alignment with his spine.

The gulls call from outside his window, a high and keening cry. He can hear the light whistles of forest bird. The low murmur of voices unable to pierce the early fog of morning.

He doesn’t remember making it to his bed, but nor does he intend to rise from it.

 He wants to cling to slumber, doesn’t want to make conversation or move. But he’s already lost the game of sleep and settles for burrowing further into the light cotton comforter that had seen him through every summer of his life.

A rough hand on his shoulder greets him instead and he groans a warning as it flips him onto his back.

“Come on, Virgil, we know you’re awake.”

The voice floats down from above him. He grumbles deeply, unintelligibly, and turns his back on the inhumanity of it all.

A sharp poke pierces his clouded thoughts and Virgil growled as he opened one bleary eye.

“What?”

“Gentlemen, he lives,” crows Gordon, arms wide and ready to receive undying adoration for his proclamation.

“It’s been fourteen hours,” Scott says, grimly. “Time for a check-up.”

Virgil wonders at that. Fourteen hours of sleep, while rare in their home, was hardly reason for medical concern. He suspects though, that Scott already knows this, and doesn’t resist for fear that he’ll be forced to leave the warmth and comfort of his bed.

“The air’s stale in here,” he says instead. “I don’t sleep with my windows shut.”

“Arm,” orders Scott, and Virgil lifts it automatically, puzzling over his last memories which certainly don’t involve him shutting his windows. Or entering his room for that matter.

“I fell asleep?” he asks, suddenly.

“Right in the hall,” Gordon says, his eyes dancing with half checked laughter. “You went down like a ton of bricks.”

“It wasn’t funny.” Scott’s manner is terse, his shoulders tight and the deep crease between his eyes growing as he turns to glare at Gordon. “He could have seriously hurt himself.”

“He didn’t though.” He whips around to face Virgil. “And you’re welcome, by the way. I convinced Scott to let us put you here instead of the infirmary. Even woke John up to back me. I risked the wrath of John for you, he said you were physically fine otherwise you’d be waking in that cold infirmary and Scott would have a back spasm from sleeping in those terrible chairs. All for nothing too because you’re fine.”

Virgil stares at him.

He wants to argue with Gordon, the necessity of rules made for their safety niggling at the back of his brain. He wants to roll his eyes, tell him that the infirmary beds aren’t that painful, that the fluorescent lights that blink and buzz might be made for suturing and not sleeping but that they held their own kind of relief, of comfort.

He wants to thank him, for giving him this moment where he could wake slowly to the sounds of birdsong and crashing waves, unheard in the depths of the island. For that moment where he could lay still as the sun streamed in with warmth and good cheer.

He has a thesis of carefully memorised protocols warring with pure sensation of soft coziness and the luxury of a brother who loves him.

He isn’t sure which instinct is winning when he opens his mouth.

“You made me sleep on two pillows.”

The room blurs as the soft mound beneath his head is ripped away at lightning speed. Virgil hardly has time to hear the whirl of rushing air before the pillow connects with his head with a dull thud.

Gordon jabs at his arm.

“No appreciation, I tell you.”

“Gordon! Out!”

Virgil throws the offending pillow after him, chuckling at the sharp laughter that pierced the slammed door.

Scott isn’t smiling.

He pulls the sphygmomanometer tight around Virgil’s arm.

Virgil winces slightly, but says nothing. Not yet.

Scott’s movements are precise and ordered, with nothing to suggest he isn’t conducting a normal check-up at all.

But Virgil knows his brother.

“Hey,” he says softly, watching Scott stare at the dial. “I really am okay.”

Scott’s not listening to the blood pounding through his arteries, not even in pretence. Still, he ignores Virgil and pulls up a new medical report so he can stare intently at that in place of his brother’s gentle eyes.

“Scott,” says Virgil, leaning forward and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Scott shoves it away, his eyes snapping to Virgil’s.

“Why didn’t you call for backup?”

“You were off duty.”

“I don’t mean me,” Scott growls. “I mean, I do, I would’ve been there in a heartbeat if you’d asked. But you didn’t, did you? Not even Alan. Not even John.”

“John was helping,” says Virgil, sharply. “Just because he wasn’t on the ground, doesn’t mean he wasn’t working that same stretch of time. Why do you think Gordon had to wake him?”

“Stop side-stepping my point,” snaps Scott. “We’re a team, Virgil, you can’t work yourself to the point of exhaustion like that.”

“What choice did I have?”

“I should’ve been there, I could’ve-” began Scott, but Virgil merely raised his own voice.

“You couldn’t, Scott. What you’re angry about, I could turn right around and parrot back, you know. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

He fell back against the headboard, wishing he hadn’t woken up. Or at least that he wasn’t having this argument, not here and now.

And he recognises those eyes, the burning frustration at one’s own limitations and the rising fear for a brother mixed with torn compassion and understanding.

He’s mirrored Scott all his life, and it’s startling to see his own familiar expression on Scott’s face.

“Please, Virgil.”

He doesn’t say anything. He can’t make that kind of promise to Scott any more than Scott could to him. Not without breaking it.

Scott smiles sadly as he stands, accepting the silence.

He knows.

“Don’t even think about moving from this room for the next twenty-four hours. Just... get some rest, will you, Virg?”

He thinks he will.

#virgil tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #thunderbirds are go #i make no apologies for my rambly nature but also i'm about to fall asleep and that makes me chatty xD #also i get my first covid vaccine tomorrow viva la modern science get vaccinated kids #and adults i'm just used to only speaking to children sorry folks #ANYWAYS AGAIN THUNDERBIRDS AMIRITE :) #sometimes i fic

[mighty-ragnarssons]

Knocked Up | Modern Vikings AU | Chapter I

Relationships | Modern Ivar x OC Summary | Ivar always thought he'd be one of those people that never find the love of their lives. But then he found her - or, as the story goes, she bumped into him. He never saw it coming. Then he had to deal with it, and all the consequences that came along. Warnings | some smut, a little angst, harassement, teenage pregnancy

You can read in AO3 as well (click here). 

Chapter 1

There was no one in town that didn’t know about the Ragnarssons, the children of the famous Ragnar Lothbrok. They were fearless, they were reckless, and they were dangerous, just like their father. That’s what everybody said.

Bjorn was the eldest, the first-born of Ragnar’s first marriage with Lagertha. There had been a daughter too, Gyda, but she had passed away terribly young. After that, Ragnar had only sons born from his second marriage, this time with Aslaug. First came Ubbe, then Hvitserk and Sigurd. All of them perfectly healthy and strong boys that, much like Bjorn and to Ragnar’s amusement, took after their father in several ways. Unexpectedly and accidentally, however, there was a fifth child, the last son of Ragnar, Ivar. 

Ivar was very different from his brothers.

Born with a bone condition, he was crippled from the start. It was not just his legs that wouldn’t allow him to ever walk on his own, but a whole lot more pain coming from his frail bones that were never to be trusted. No wonder he grew up as a vulnerable, angry, and sad kid, despite being his mother’s favorite and most protected son. And now, as he was becoming a man, people called him mad and a drunk, a wild card with whom everyone rather stay away from. Ivar didn’t mind, he preferred to be tamed than to be pitied after a lifetime of being looked down on. In fact, he would do everything in his power to remain like this. It was the only way to prove himself and stay out of his brothers’ shadow and, most importantly, his father’s to who Ivar was the least favored son, something which hurt the boy more deeply than his constant physical pain.

“Hurry up, Ivar. Crawl faster, or else when we get to the club Ubbe and Hvitserk will have gotten all the best girls” Sigurd’s voice echoed loudly through the house. 

Ivar was there a second later clearly annoyed at his brother’s mocking tone. “Last time I checked, dear brother, you need me to drive you. So shut up. Let’s go.” 

Sigurd couldn’t argue back. He did need Ivar to drive them to the club. He kept failing at taking his driver’s license. It was humiliating to have to need his crippled brother to drive him, but Ubbe and Hvistserk, the bastards, hadn’t been home. Minutes afterward Ivar was behind the wheel of his accessible SUV and off they were.

Thirty minutes later they were skipping the line to get into the club. The Ragnarssons had their ways.  If there was one circuit in which their name was known by everyone, it was the nightlife one. No party would ever start without one of them being there. Ivar and Sigurd joined Ubbe and Hvisterk in the VIP area. As usual, Ivar took a corner where he knew he’d spend the next few hours drinking, smoking, and glaring at the dancing crowd. Perhaps if someone caught his eye he’d make a move, but usually, it was more like his brothers to do that.  

“There you go” Hvitzerk handed him a joint “Don’t look so serious, Ivar. The night is young. Enjoy!” By the looks of it, it was clear that he was already a bit high. But again it was Hvitserk and unusual would be to find him sober. “A lot of pretty ladies out there. Want me to pick one for you?” 

Ivar knew Hivtserk was only joking, but he still didn’t like it. His brother, ignoring Ivar’s cold glare and much to his annoyance, started pointing out to random girls who were dancing. “Oh, look at that one. C’mon Ivar, ain’t she a treat to stare at?”  

Thankfully, Hivtserk stopped his stupid game once their oldest brother Bjorn joined them, bringing shots to everyone with the help of his wife, Torvi.

“Brother, to what do we owe the honor?” Ivar said, throwing one of his ironic smirks. 

“I bring good news. Father is going to be released from jail sooner than expected. In three months to be exact! I had to pull some strings but it’s settled”

The news was received with different reactions. Sigurd didn’t seem that happy, while Ivar was the opposite. Ubbe was the first one to hold one of the shot glasses and started the toast “To Father! To Ragnar!”

Ragnar had been in prison for almost three years due to white-collar crimes, having been convicted of corporate fraud and money laundering. His sentence would’ve been of more than ten years, but Ragnar had his ways and was able to cut a deal for five years. And now, apparently, he would only serve almost four. Throughout this time it had been Bjorn taking over the leadership of the family’s successful business, Northmen Ventures, of which all of Ragnar’s sons had become the sole shareholders just before he was imprisoned. This explained why they were one of the richest families in their Norwegian city of Bergen. 

Bjorn,  now age 30, had been the natural successor of Ragnar. Not only because he was the oldest and perhaps the favorite son of Ragnar, but also because at the time he was the only one with a university degree, having just graduated from Law School. Yet, all of Ragnar’s sons were meant to get involved with the business. At least that was their father’s wish. Ubbe, now 24, had just graduated from Architecture School but had recently joined Bjorn on the company’s executive board.  Ivar wasn’t given the opportunity to help out, something which he grudged his older brothers - for dismissing him for his age, despite the fact that he’d watch and learned as much from his father as possible since an early age. Now 19 he was a freshman in college taking Business Administration. Then there were Hvitserk, 23, and Sigurd, 21,  the ones more adamant about following in their father’s footsteps. Hvitserk was using the money they were all getting to sustain his pricy bachelor lifestyle, and so was Sigurd who dedicated most of his time to art and music. Neither tried to pursue a higher education degree. 

“Don’t get too excited. Father will be back and then what? It’s not like he cares about us.” Sigurd, the mood killer, chugged his beer aggressively “He didn’t let us visit him in prison not even once. Not even Mother was allowed to. He didn’t even care for sending a postcard for Christmas!”

“He must have had his reasons.”

“And he left us the company”

“And so what? He just wanted to prevent it from ending up in the hands of the government.  Fuck him! You might all want to play the role of doting sons, but I’m not gonna tag along” After this Sigurd stormed off.

The remaining brothers looked at one another. A little bit of what Sigurd had just said resounsed with them, but at the same time they were excited to welcome back their father. Things would be very different with him around. 

“I say we celebrate.” Ivar said, not minding Sigurd. He couldn’t wait for his father to be back so that he could prove himself once and for all. He was no longer the defenseless crippled child he was when Ragnar went away. 

Despite the good mood he was in about Bjorn’s good news, Ivar wasn’t vibing with the club’s atmosphere that night. Hvitserk and Ubbe were making out with some random girls, Sigurd was nowhere to be seen and Torvi and Bjorn had left already. Instead, he was craving for some adrenaline and he knew just the way to get it. Texting his dealer, he left the club with the help of his crutches.

Nothing was to stop him except that on the way out someone bumped into him almost causing him to lose his fragile balance. Fury grew on Ivar who was about to yell at whoever made the mistake of infuriating him that night, but that’s when her face lost the blurriness of a few seconds ago and Ivar lost his balance again but for a completely different reason.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to...shit” 

“Bitch, get back! For the hundredth time, you’re not getting in!” 

The girl’s expression quickly turned one of desperation. “I told you I have to. My cousin needs help! Don’t stop me, please” Her words were towards the bouncer that was now pulling her back, but her pleading eyes were on Ivar as if asking for help.  

“Hey, let her go!”  Ivar didn’t know why, but his rage got up to new levels when he saw the bouncer getting his filthy hands on her. “I said back off. Take your fucking hands off of her.”

At Ivar’s command the bouncer let her go. It didn’t matter that he was a big muscle guy, Ivar took a step towards him and faced him with a cold death stare. 

“She’s coming in with me, do you understand?”

“Ragnarsson, she is a minor. I can’t let her in.”

“I’m not asking.” 

His tone set it. He nodded so that the girl got in the club ahead of him. She didn’t even say a word, going immediately in. Ivar had to hurry himself inside to catch up. 

“Fuck, there’s so many people” she noticed looking absolutely lost.

“Let me help you.” he offered. 

“The bathrooms. My cousin... she called me, she didn’t sound fine… I’m worried something’s happened... She said she couldn’t move” she was trembling as she spoke. Ivar reached her hand with his. 

“If she is here we are going to find her.” he assured her “Follow me” 

It was not typical of Ivar to help a lady in distress but as he was guiding this girl through the crowd of drunk dancing people he couldn’t understand the need he was abruptly feeling for shielding her and, worst of all, to comfort her. These feelings left him uneased, but he was not going to dwell into that right now. If his suspicions were right and her cousin was somewhere in the club, then she was probably drugged to the point of unconsciousness and in a position to be taken advantage of. 

They swiped all the bathrooms at the club until at last they burst into one where a girl was noticeably knocked down in a corner.

“Cathrine!” the girl immediately crouched down on her cousin. “Cathrine, can you hear me?” 

“All of you, get out” Ivar demanded the girls who were inside. Some tried to complain, after all he was the guy in a female bathroom. These same girls that had paid no attention, or they just didn’t care, to the other girl on the floor. He then went outside as fast as he could and got a water bottle.

“She’s awake, but barely. Says she 's dizzy. She’s not talking right” 

“She was likely drugged” It wouldn’t be a first in that club “Make her sip some water” he threw the water bottle at them. He really wanted to level down to them, but with his crutches and all it just wouldn’t go well. “I’m gonna find help.”

 He ‘raced’ to the VIP area. Only Hivtserk was there with a girl on top of him. What was wrong with his brothers for acting as if their corner was a place of public foreplay display?

“Hvitserk, I need your help!”

“Go away Ivar” he grumbled and continued to suggestively run his hands on the brunette over his lap.

Ivar had to take the matter into his hands. The first thing he found was a leftover cocktail on the table which he threw at the girl. Her immediate squeak was so high and audible despite the deafening music. She practically jumped from on top of his brother.

“You crazy motherfucker!”

“What the fuck Ivar?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Come with me. I need your help.” 

Usually he didn't have much faith in his brothers - after all they were a pain in his ass most of the time - but this time he was really hoping to call on Hvitserk’s good senses. Fortunately his prayers were answered and his older brother followed him back to the bathroom

“What’s going on?”

“There’s a passed out girl. We need to get her out of here.”

“Would you go so far as in to get laid, little brother? Oh, you sicko” 

“This is not the time for jokes, asshole. You’re the sicko for even suggesting that”

Ivar was almost regretting getting Hvitserk to help, but the truth was that he alone wouldn’t be able to carry the girl out from the bathroom. The moment they got in there Hvitserk got a bit more serious and kneeled next to the two girls. 

“Let’s get her out of here” 

Together with Hvitserk, the girl helped raise her semi-unconscious cousin. People inside the club were so fucked up that they didn’t drop one second to look at them leaving. 

“Take her to my car” Ivar indicated and so they did. He unlocked his metallic grey SUV from afar and went on to open the backdoors where they laid the girl. “Let her get some fresh hair. It will do her good.”

“Should we take her to the hospital?” Hvitserk suggested.

A loud “No!” came from the inside of the car.

“She can’t. It will be too complicated” said the other girl but not without hinting her dissatisfaction.

Ivar finally took a moment to fully look at her. Dressed  in just a pair of jeans and a warm sweatshirt, she was lean and tall, but at least a good ten centimeters shorter than himself. Her blonde hair was tied in a messy bun with some strands falling down on her face. He had to hold the instinct to gently brush those aside. And her eyes… They were a very greyish blue color like he had never seen before. They were mirroring worry and nervousness. 

“I’m calling a cab. Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for you” she said facing Ivar and Ivar only. 

“I can drive you.” he offered without thinking.

“We already bothered you enough -”

Ivar cut her off “Nonsense. I’m going to drive you” he declares in a way that offered no other option.

Relief poured from her gaze “Thank you”

It was quite the drive, further out of Bergen’s city center. By the time they got there the passed out girl - Cathrine - had regained consciousness, albeit feeling nauseous and dizzy. Hvitserk carried her alone in his arms to the inside of the house and further into her bed. It was time enough for her to fall asleep like a rock.

“She seems just to need some rest. Keep her hydrated when she wakes up.”

“If she was drugged then it should wear off her system soon”

“Noted. I don’t know how to thank you both” 

“You could go on a date with one of us, how does that sound?”

“Hvitserk!” Ivar admonished in reaction to the girl’s shocked expression “Please, ignore my brother. He, too, has drugs that need to wear off his system”

“You’re no fun, Ivar” Hvitserk couldn’t argue back on the drugs part. “A pleasure to help, milady. Until next time” He did a silly bow and left the apartment back to the car. 

“Is he always like that?” 

 “Most of the time, yeah.” Ivar shrugged his shoulders “Hand me your phone” Because she did without complaining, he got it and put his number in there “I’m Ivar Lothbrook. Whenever you need help.”

What he really wanted to say was ‘text me’. He didn’t have the nerve for that, tho.

For the first time that night she finally showed a glimpse of a smile “Honestly, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help, Ivar Lothbrok” 

Her hand was touching his and for a moment everything seemed to stop. The way his name sounded on her lips… A shiver went down his spine. He wanted to hear it again, but most importantly he wanted to know her name.

But in that exact moment a horn yelled. Goddamned Hvitserk. He was going to wake up the whole street, which was the opposite of what the girls had asked. “I better go drive him home now or else he’ll wake up the whole neighborhood” 

Yet Ivar was finding it difficult to leave. To leave her. Another honk made him take the necessary steps.

“I mean it when I say for you to use my number whenever. Stay safe”

He finally closed the door behind him and walked back to the car, but not before looking over his shoulder. There she was, by the window, waving goodbye with a shy smile on her face.

He needed to see her again.

The next morning Ivar woke up rather hopeful of seeing a text message. Seeing there was none, his day didn’t kick off exactly on the right terms. Throughout the day he checked his phone more times than he cared to admit and each time he grew impatient and irritated. What was it about that girl to make him like this? It’s not like he usually gave a crap about whoever he met.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve got a right cob-on” his older brother Ubbe asked later that day when they were all chilling by the firepit  in the backyard of the Lothbrook’s home.

Although in Norway it was uncommon for people their age to still be living at home, in their case that’s how things were and worked out great most days. Usually it was just the four brothers and the house was  big enough for them not to be in each other’s ways.. Their mother, Aslaug Lothbrok, ran one the country’s finest art galleries. After her husband’s arrest she had moved her gallery to the capital city, Oslo, instead of their home city. Lately she spent most of her time there rather than at home. 

“It’s nothing. Leave me alone” 

“He’s hung up” teased Hvitserk “Still thinking about the pretty blondie from last night, brother?”

Right that moment Ivar wished he could smack the mocking smiles out of his brother’s faces. 

“Well, well, well Ivar. Didn’t know you had company last night.”

“He didn’t.  Not exactly. None of us did” Hvitserk proceed to put Ubbe on the loop in regards to their little episode last night. “Instead of asking her for her number, our little brother gave her his. Wrong move, dude.” Ivar immediately regretted telling this to Hvitserk. “Don’t be so bummed out, Ivar. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Speaking of…”

A blonde Ivar doesn’t care much about exits their home in Sigurd’s company, both appearing content which can only mean one thing. Margrethe is a constant guest at the Lothbrok’s and probably the only female with the fame of being acquainted with all of the brothers’ rooms. Although a favorite among the Ragnarssons, to Ivar she’s nothing but an unpleasant company he is forced to tolerate after they fall out months ago. 

“If that’s the fish you’re hinting at, I’d rather go vegan” Ivar mumbled under his breath.

I hope you liked it! It’s my first Vikings fic :) Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language. At least five more chapters will be on the way.

#knocked-up-fic #vikings fic #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #modern vikings #modern vikings au #modern ivar #modern ivar au #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #ivar x original female character #ivar ragnarsson #ragnarssons #my fiction #ivar lothbrok #knocked up fic

[olivinesea]

In the Golden Dark

a/n: Having never done any ship writing before I’m just going to jump feet first into the deep end with a little Hotchreid for you today. It’s nice. No warnings except maybe some angst because we are who we are. Probably the softest thing you will see from me so enjoy the moment. Completely unnecessary disclaimer that I would find this relationship wildly inappropriate in real life but thank god we’re out here in the lawless fiction of the internet. And you’re getting full on song lyrics bc Hotchreid is nothing if not decadent af. There’s more but I’m impatient so here’s the first bit. ~ 2.7k

what the hell am I doing here in the golden dark? feeling like I’m someone else who looks the part I built up barricades to block my heart cause I don’t wanna fear you

He leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms up and clasping his hands behind his head, arching his back slightly. With his eyes closed it could be any time of day. He inhaled deeply and pretended for a moment that he was nowhere. He even gave himself a few extra seconds, indulging in the quiet that was the office at night. If only he could feel so peaceful in the right moments—before sleeping perhaps. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the reflection of his office light in the black windows. There hadn’t been daylight for hours. He’d switched off the overhead lights in favor of the small desk lamp that pooled the light only in the area of immediate relevance. Everything beyond its reach faded in and out of existence as his focus fell deeply into the forms in front of him.

He pressed his elbows back as far as they would go, pulling up slightly on the base of his skull, stretching out a day’s worth of stress, countless hours spent bent over report after report. He never could have imagined that saving people would require so much paperwork. Reducing the chaos of the lived experience, the searches and the takedowns, the intricate patterns of dozens of personalities layering choices upon one another; it turned out to be quite difficult to do. It took him hours to wrap up cases, even with everyone doing most of their own reports. Which, through no fault of their own, wasn’t always the case. He usually ended up siphoning off a fair number of those reports in addition to his own.

He didn’t mind, he needed to go over everything, needed to make sure that any possible negative feedback that came back would fall to him and he would be prepared if it did. His team were his responsibility, he would be neglecting his duties if he didn’t ensure that things were handled properly. None of them needed the headache of administrative errors. He was good with details, good with forms, good with protocol. He would happily be the filter that saved them all the trouble of little errors even if it hadn’t been part of his job.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was eleven o’clock on a Wednesday and everyone else had gone home hours ago. Only the late night janitorial staff wandered in and out occasionally, nodding at him in silent greeting as they reset the offices to give the illusion of an endlessly renewable supply of fresh starts. People that didn’t stay late never gave this transformation a second thought. They left the office with full trashcans and small debris scattered on the old carpets, only to return the next morning to find a place untouched by human presence, metal fixtures shining and glass doors free of oily fingerprints. That was just how the world worked for them, generous with new beginnings. People who lingered knew better, that effort was put into the effect. Beginnings were never easy, never flowed so inevitably as the set and rise of the sun.

Hotch had been working late for many years, long before he was even in the BAU. He had learned in law school how to brew the coffee strong enough to stay up all night if need be. How the indoor lighting changed without the support of daylight, tinting the world a thin sickly green color without the natural light to round out the fluorescence. He only got worse about it once he joined the Bureau, the stress of the job causing old habits and old secrets to float to the surface. He compensated by working the hardest, doing the most, never allowing anyone to see him need things that other people needed. He could handle this job, this was all he ever wanted after all. To save the world. Or maybe, more modestly, to save the world of a few.

Now, with Haley gone, Jack with her, somewhere well out of his disastrous reach, there was no reason at all not to fully give in. No reason not to let his insomnia at least be productive. To let the latent self destruction that fueled his actions at least have a positive impact on the people he cared about. He could do that at least.

He rubbed his face with his hands, he was getting loopy. There was no reason to be letting his mind wander so far, there were still reports he could get through. Perhaps, as unlikely as the idea felt, he could even get ahead. He looked back down at the paperwork, letting his feet settle flat on the floor. The letters swam in front of him and he sighed, rolling his pen beneath his thumb, considering. He could probably make it another hour. He could get another pot of coffee into himself. He cast about for his mug, finding it empty on the shelf behind him. He sometimes kept it there to prevent his reports from acquiring telltale dark rings. Rolling back from the desk, he hooked the handle with two fingers and headed out to the kitchenette.

Wrapped up in making plans for what he could finish tonight and what could be left for the morning he was startled to find a light still on in the bullpen. He was certain everyone had gone home long ago. They’d each passed by his office, offering him an out as they made their ways home—perhaps their exit could be the motivation he needed to break out of his office, to head towards his own home. What they didn’t realize was that home was not better for him. Work was far better, far safer, with tasks to complete, a purpose. If he was smart he would stay at work forever.

So he waved to them as they checked out, giving them small smiles that, though imperceptible to strangers, they recognized as both apologies and well-wishes. He knew they worried, that they didn’t like to see him tied to his desk late into the night. They thought it was one of his many methods for making himself suffer but he didn’t have the heart to tell them that this was him making a good decision, this was him trying his very best. In his experience, nothing good happened at home.

He thought he remembered everyone leaving, each goodbye. But every day was the same and they all bled together so he must have missed one because he cannot deny the light down below. As he walked down the stairs, confused by the discovery that he was not as alone as he had been imagining, his tired vision focused better. He could make out dark blond curls and a darker sweater hunched over the desk in the middle of the room.

“Reid?” The name came out as a croak, he hadn’t spoken in hours and probably hadn’t had any water in that time period either. He cleared his throat and said it again, louder and closer to the other man than before. Reid’s head snapped up, expression as guilty as a child caught out of bed.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, eyes wide.

Hotch frowned, not because he was upset but because he was still a little disoriented and his muscles fell back into the most familiar actions.

“I—“ Reid ducked his head and started pushing papers together on his desk, shoving them haphazardly into a file folder. “I was just…” he trailed off, not really having intended on explaining himself. He was simply also startled and reverting to the familiar.

Reid explained compulsively, able to handle the world when parsed down to facts and numbers. He didn’t have a fact for why he had stayed so late, only a feeling and that he didn’t know how to explain. Nights had been particularly lonely recently so he had allowed himself to stay later and later, getting lost in his thoughts at his work desk. Even without people around there was a sense of occupancy, their faint impressions lingering in the air. Plus there was always Hotch up in his office. He didn’t actively think about him or what he was doing but he liked knowing the man was nearby. Hotch’s solid presence always made him feel more secure, less concerned with whatever might jump out at him from the shadows overlapping the world and his mind.

He couldn’t tell Hotch that, was far too embarrassed to admit that sometimes, even with all the lights on, it was too dark in his apartment. No matter the illumination, he couldn’t quite dispel the unease of the night when he was alone. It wasn’t always like this, sometimes he had enough brightness to spare. Recently, however, things had been hard. So much had been going on, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why but he knew he felt uneasy. Too much had changed, there was too much risk that the floor could still fall out beneath him at any moment. And it hadn’t been so long since he’d escaped the consequences of his kidnapping, his addiction, that he trusted himself to be able to manage too much more uncertainty. Backsliding was always a risk and right now the world tilted at a frightening grade. So he let himself stay late in the safety of familiarity, sometimes working but more often not, idly rereading the books he had brought in and forgotten around the office. Tonight he had actually started to doze off, which contributed to his shock upon being discovered.

Hotch continued to frown at him, watching as the thoughts raced across Spencer’s face. He noticed how deep the shadows were beneath his eyes, the way darkness pooled in the space below his cheekbones, as if they were concave impressions filled by seawater. He knew Spencer didn’t eat enough, was all too familiar with the ways too much coffee and not enough calories pinched the skin and exposed the fine lines of capillaries beneath the surface.

“Sorry,” Spencer repeated.

He looked genuinely ashamed and it made Hotch a little sad. Couldn’t Spencer see that he was just as guilty of whatever it was he thought he was doing wrong by being here? He made a conscious effort to soften his expression, to show the warmth he felt for the younger man. After having spent his entire life masking his emotions, protecting himself one of the only ways he could, it wasn’t always easy to show his affection. Especially not at this time of night, when all he could do was cling to his walls and hope to find himself still on solid ground when the sun rose. Spencer wasn’t looking at him, too caught up in his own maze.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Hotch said, trying a different tactic. He was smart, he knew not to make it a demand or a comment on Spencer’s health. It was only an invitation, firm enough for Spencer to know he meant it, that it was not just a pleasantry or an obligation he’d rather avoid. A hand extended, an offer of easy company to pass through a little more of this unwanted time. Spencer looked up from where his fingers were worrying at the corner of the file in front of him and smiled shyly. Hotch smiled back, a real smile that scrunched up his dark shining eyes.

“Give me five minutes to close up,” he said and turned back toward his office. As he packed his briefcase, his heart felt like it had been wrapped in a soft blanket. He didn’t bother questioning it—who didn’t like finding someone to commiserate with when they’d only expected more of the lonely dark?

*

Their late night meals became a regular occurrence. Not every night but once, maybe twice a week, they found themselves the last ones in the office. They fell into a rhythm, each learning to read more from the other’s subtle cues. They almost always went to the same place, a 24-hour diner near the office with deceptively strong coffee and a seemingly endless variety of pancakes. Hotch rarely ordered food, though he encouraged Reid to get anything he wanted. He accepted bites of whatever the younger man ordered, happy enough to reciprocate the excitement over strawberry rhubarb or cinnamon blueberry pancakes.

They talked about inconsequential things, mostly Hotch listening as Reid spun out information on whatever topic was on his mind that day. Reid, for his part, made mental note of the things Hotch responded to and had opinions on. Spencer sought out more information in that vein to bring up. He loved to talk, sure, but what he loved more was to discuss. During the day there was rarely time to let his thoughts wander so freely. It was a dream to have someone there, following along and challenging him with questions, building up new conclusions.

On the nights that followed difficult days, when they were both too stubborn to order anything of substance, they drank their coffees and avoided looking at each other too directly. Those nights they were both tied up in their own thoughts, islands separated by more than just distance, but there was something undeniably pulling them together. It was probably just the natural consequence of having opposite dominant sides but they mirrored each other perfectly across the table. Once, they both happened to reach for their mugs at the same time and the backs of their hands brushed against each other. They each noticed but responded differently. Hotch repressed any reaction, pretending the quick touch of bony knuckles and cool skin hadn’t registered. Maybe it hadn’t. Reid, on the other hand, jumped as if shocked, sloshing the hot coffee into a puddle on the table. This only flustered him more and he yelped at the sting of the liquid and the sting of embarrassment. It wasn’t like they’d never touched before. But here, in this nowhere time they’d constructed, it felt different. In his mind that brief touch became nails dragging across his skin, impossible to ignore. But he pretended the mug was too hot and Hotch didn’t argue, quick to assist with napkins and sounds of agreement to accompany Spencer’s half-coherent excuses.

When their meals were done, mostly cleaned plates of syrup and crumbs stacked to one side, they hesitated before standing up. Hotch always offered to give Reid a ride home, Reid always declined, insisting he could get there himself. This led to Hotch giving him a doubtful look and insisting that it was no trouble. Reid, secretly wanting a ride the whole time, struggled to argue for his self-sufficiency a little longer before giving in. It became a silly thing, both of them knowing exactly how the argument ended but they held onto it for some reason. It was a part of their ritual now, an important piece of the night. It kept this, whatever this was, contained, strictly occasional, random even. Not something they planned for, not something they looked forward to.

Hotch waited for Spencer to get in the door of his building before driving away. He knew it wasn’t necessary, Spencer was a grown man and a trained FBI agent with a weapon. Still, it made him feel better to see him safely inside. Sometimes he thought he would feel even better if he could walk Spencer all the way to his front door. But he knew that would be asking too much. As it was, the nights when they shared this extra hour or two together, extended further by the drive home, had been giving him more than he could have imagined. He wouldn’t dare impose himself further. The brittle excuse of safety would crumble if he were to start following the other man inside. He was not ready to find out what that would mean. He smiled unconsciously as he drove to his apartment. For now, it was enough that he had found companionship on these late nights when he would otherwise be slowly, meticulously, working his way into the grave.

~Part 2~

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #hotchreid #beginnings

[local-starry-catboi]

Right or Wrong Challenge

Introduction

I had stumbled upon this challenge after seeing it pinned at the top of the One Piece Amino featured page back in April 2019. It was the first challenge I entered after actually becoming active. I decided to polish this blog a little (aka match the formatting to Tumblr, hope I don't fuck up-), to post it here as well •^•

Decided to pick the imagine-yourself-as-marine-so-which-justice-do-you-follow-for-reasons question the leaders of this challenge set up. On the one hand because it seemed interested, on the other hand because it looked like it might be one of the easier questions to answer for my 🍞 brain. After typing out everything though, I can say that it's actually tougher than it looked like at the first glance to be honest. Especially not deciding what justice and why..

The challenge question set up was

"If you were a marine, whose justice would you follow and why? Or do you have your own sense of justice? If so, explain."

Definition(s) of Justice

Many people define justice by other things, like how they know it, how they feel about it, if it's important or not, what makes a decision just or unjust.

That leads us to a spot where there are a few points to consider. So first off, it makes sense to start by breaking up the meaning of justice using three methods.

First option:

"Justice [noun], coming from the Latin word 'justitia'; refers to just behaviour or treatment, the quality of being fair and reasonable as well as the administration of the law or authority in maintaining this." - Oxford Dictionary.

Second option:

"Justice, at it's base, means 'to be just, fair'. Most commonly however, the meaning of justice is to punish a criminal that has done something wrong in a suitable manner that fits their crime." - One Piece.

Third option:

"[...] Justice will prevail, you say? But of course it will! Whoever wins this war becomes justice!" - Doflamingo during the Paramount War.

So far:

Firstly, to sum up: In the end, the first two definitions go hand-in-hand with each other. The definitions of justice are in some thing close to each other and in some things they are far apart from each other. On the whole this means that even though they both use different words, are the same in the end of the day.

Secondly, hence the Marine is actually the "good" fraction in One Piece whereas the pirates are the actual antagonists, they have to shoulder and act out their role as eyes and sword of the law, judging over those who were unjust towards the law due to criminal activities.

Thirdly, the way Doffy looks at justice is also interesting though, hence he points at the fact that those with the great power usually decide what justice is. This way the stronger fraction also decides what is right and what is wrong. I wanted to put him into this as well because his viewpoint is interesting, too, even though he's not a Marine.

But now let's get back to the topic, shall we~?

Lastly: Moreover, every single one of the forms of justice has its right and a good reason to exist. Why you ask? Because not every living being thinks the same way like another. Even animals seem to possess another sense of righteousness and justice as humans - in addition, they differ from animal to animal as well. The effect of this is that Kuzan's statement he gave to Jaguar D. Sauro back then, that "The thing called 'justice' changes its shape... Depending on where you stand." is true, too. As a result, every form of justice is true - only depending on from which side you look at it.

Despite this freedom of opinion like with this topic, the Marines' general way of justice can be looked at as some sort of 'ridding the world from everything evil existing there".

Types of Justice

Since there are multiple types of justice given in the world of One Piece, lead by the Admirals, the CP9 and other Marines, I'll explain each of them.

Akainu's Absolute Justice:

His motto regarding the Absolute Justice is the "Thorough Justice". He seems to stick to this doctrine as close as possible, yet seemingly does not to mind going against it on the other side, judging by how he reacts to Coby, deserters, pirates and the likens. If Sakazuki comes up with any issues regarding illegal activities, I believe it's better to rethink these choices and to put in at least a bit of benevolence. It's an efficient option to differenciate well between those who can be taken down without major consequences or remorses and those who can "stay".

Lucci's Dark Justice:

Supposedly the CP0's kitty cat can be compared to Batman - to a certain degree at least. He bases his sense of justice on his own personal philosophy of "Neccessary Evil". Thus, he only destroys those who go against the interests of the World Government to defend them ( = the interests). For this, he himself becomes evil to support his ideals. Besides the fact, that he doesn't seem to care much about it, possibly comes from the WG deciding what justice is for him and the other CP agents. Thus, this results in him having his reasons for choosing this type of justice.

Aokiji's Lazy Justice:

The Lazy Justice (before it was the Burning or Fired Up Justice) is the rather laid-back opposite of the Thorough Justice in my eyes. It underlines his lack of interest and relaxed attitude towards many things as long as he doesn't think about a situation worthy enough for him to intervene. This is part of Moral Justice, thus acting according to it when it's needed. It shows well how he doesn't care about much that happens around him besides the complexity of his character. The Lazy Justice could be a sign to point out that it doesn't always need a ruthless man leading the sword of justice, but can also take a more relaxed but equally capable.

Fujitora's Blind Justice:

Besides the Moral or Virtuous Justice type of motto Isshō follows, he sticks to his own ideals instead of the Marine's Absolute Justice doctrine. He acts according to what he thinks to be morally fine like bringing those to justice who act without moral or anything. All this is underlined by the fact that he took his own eyesight to never see the unjustice of corruption done otherwise. This way Fujitora goes as far as taking responsibilites onto himself which other members of the Marine wouldn't have had to take otherwise if they were in his shoes.

Kizaru's Unclear Justice:

As its name states and how he possess a neutral attitude towards the Absolute Justice, it's somewhat unclear, how to define his type of justice. Except for the fact that it's mercy what he lacks, he doesn't really show a lot of passion or anything to pursue justice most of the time, however. If things restrain him from achieving his goal he only gets slightly annoyed and that's it, unlike Sakazuki for example.

Smokers' Eat Shit Justice:

He follows his own path of justice, unlike the majority of his colleagues do. Out of most of the Marine, he appears to be the most "normal" out of the bunch. Smoker seems to act on some sort of "be nice to me or I'll kill you" codex, like it was shown back during the Alabasta Arc for example. His Eat Shit Justice may be one of the more humane types of justice. After all though you shouldn't get on his bad side then or it surely will be over as soon as it is like with the other types of justice.

Conclusion Time

Now, to the interesting part. Whose justice would I and why?

That's actually a really tough decision. I had to think a lot between three types of justice, yet all of the ones mentioned above have their pros and cons. Eat shit, Lazy and Blind were the ones I couldn't choose between first.

But behold.. In the end I came to my current point: By a high chance I would follow Smoker's ideals of justice - as long as I understood and interpreted it correctly and not completely wrong, of course.

Why I chose his one over the others, you want to know?

The answer is simple. It's partially a thing of good education, I suppose. My landlords (called ✨ parents ✨ by some others) always said I have to be nice to others unless they become rude, there's the point then to just go out of their way. Just a typical thing every little kid hears, one day after another, so nothing special. Over the last few years however (to be exactly back when I came into 5th grade, middle school), I kind of accustomed myself to not always just take diverse comments, rude behaviour and all the likens because not all of the other students of my year were nice. Since then I decided to not take shit from most others who are constantly rude and toxic, especially for no reason. That's the reason why I follow the motto of "Be nice to me and I'm nice to you. Be, constantly, a bitch to me and I'll bitch back so eat shit, you idjit.".

Outroduction

Yee, so that was the blog •3• I surprisingly won with it, although it was the first one I had ever written, I've linked the original post from OPA. Looking back now, it sort of feels like a very lame, plain and boring character analysis and by now, I'd put far more effort into it.

Credits

Treasure Cruise renders on the dividers by KaizokuJotei on DeviantArt, and edited in PicsArt.

#anime #one piece #analysis #justice #challenge #entry #right or wrong #smoker #akainu #sakazuki #kuzan #aokiji #kizaru #borsalino #fujitora #issho #lucci #rob lucci #marine #cp9 #cp0 #onepiece cp9 #onepiece cp0 #one piece marines #local starry catboy #blog post

[lunar-girl-fic]

Against All Odds- Week 1

Warning: Harrassment/assault, language, suggestive, threats

Y/N POV

Word Count: 2530

A/N: As mentioned before this is based on my personal life. Even though not everything in this story happened, some of the more serious topics actually did. So a quick warning, there is content in here than can make the reader uncomfortable, specifically se**** harassment/assault. My intention in mentioning this in the series is to make people aware that this kind of stuff does actually happen in places you might not think it happens in. Also I try write relatable content. In my opinion Y/N reaction was kind of realistic. I reacted like that as well but instead of telling a boyfriend I told my close friend who worked with me and his reaction was the same as Eunwoo’s. Soooo in conclusion I hope you don’t think I’m writing this to be insensitive. I’m just trying to be as realistic as possible since it is based off my life.

A/N 2: I am a brown (If ya wanna know my exact ethnicity you could ask and I'll gladly tell :)), curly hair girl and since this is based on my personal life/experience I'm gonna write this series with those details in mind.

*Beep beep beep beep*

Your turned to your side to turn your alarm clock off. When you turned it off you gently pried the hands that were on your waist off. Even though your boyfriend was going to school the same time and place as you, you wanted to get ready first so you could make breakfast.

You took a quick shower and put on some home clothes because you didn't want to mess up your new uniform. After dressing you woke up Eunwoo.

"Eunwoo wake up" You said while shaking his shoulder.

He lifted his head towards you and barely opened his eyes, "Mmmh 5 more minutes", he mumbled dropping his head back onto the pillow.

You understood why he was so tired. You guys had stayed up late finishing the homework assignment that was due today. Had you guys known it was going to take so long you would've done it a week before but there's no point in dwelling on the past.

You shook him again, "Eunwoo, you have to get up. Class starts in an hour." He turned onto his back and whined.

"Morning sleepy head."

"Mornin’“

"You should start getting ready. We don't know how this man handles lateness."

"But I'm soooo tired." He said as he grabbed you and pulled you back onto the bed.

"I know, so am I."

"I can think of a couple ways to help us feel more energized." He said while caressing your thigh.

"So can I and it's called a shower and breakfast." You said while slapping his hand away.

He pouted, "You're no fun."

"I'll be sure to remind you of that next time you wanna have se-"

"Okay okay you win."

"I always do, now hurry up and get ready. You have about 15 minutes to shower and eat."

"Hmph, unlike you I don't take an hour just to shower."

"Wh-what?!? I don't take an hour!"

"How would you know if you've never timed yourself?"

"Well-I-you-"

"My point exactly." He said with a smirk as he closed the bathroom door.

You scoffed in disbelief but then thought about it. Maybe you did take an hour to shower but who cares. At least you were thorough when you cleaned yourself. You put your school uniform on and packed you and Eunwoo's lunch. Even though your school was close to fast food places, you guys needed to save up to pay for necessities. Plus who knows if your professor is actually going to give you a long enough break to buy food in those dreadfully long lines.

Just as you finished packing lunch Eunwoo walked out of your shared room fully dressed. You looked down at your watch and realized it was time to go if you guys wanted a seat close to the front.

As Eunwoo went to take a bite of his breakfast you snatched it out of his hand and bagged it.

"Hey! I was about to eat that."

"I don't think so, you took too long to get ready so now you have to eat it on the way."

"Sounds like too much work." He said as he tried to grab his food out of your hand. Of course since you were smaller than him you were able to escape and quickly ran to your bookbag to put his food in it.

After you zipped up your bag, you turned to look at your pouting boyfriend.

"As I said before your going to eat on the way there but since you'll be driving I'll feed you. How does that sound?"

His face beamed at your offer, "Let's get going then."

As you promised you fed him on the way there. By the time you arrived you had about 5 minutes to spare. Before you guys entered the gym you saw one of your classmates you made friends with when you took Pharmacology.

"Hey Laura!"

Laura turned around to see who was calling her name. When she saw who it was she instantly smiled. "Y/N! How are you?"

"I'm good, how have you been?"

"Pretty good, can't really complain." She said but then looked at Eunwoo who was just standing there looking like a teen whose mom just saw an old friend. You wouldn't have mind at first since this would be the first time she ever saw him. But the look she was giving him ignited a fire in you that only happens when you get jealous and that doesn't happen often. So you just stood there and tried your best to keep smiling and act like nothing was wrong.

"Who's your friend?"

"This is Eunwoo, my boyfriend." You said making sure to put emphasis on the boyfriend.

"It's nice to meet you." He said sticking his hand out for a handshake. She shook his hand. An action that is generally an innocent and friendly greeting seemed so wrong in that moment that you couldn't take it anymore.

"Ohh would you look at the time, we should probably go find a seat before all the good ones are taken." You said while pulling on Eunwoo's arm.

"Maybe we can sit together." Laura said as she tried to catch up to you guys.

"Mmmm I don't think we'll be able to." You said while you scanned the room for a row with only two seats available.

Bingo you thought when you saw row 3 only had 2 seats. You quickly pulled Eunwoo to the spot. You looked back to see what Laura was going to do and saw the look of defeat on her face. Which of course brought a smile to your face but quickly dropped it for a look of remorse.

Once you both pushed your chairs closer to each other you sat down and pulled out your syllabus, textbook and notebooks. You didn't even have a chance to talk to Eunwoo because it just turned 8 o'clock.

"Okay, Let's get started." The class immediately got quiet. "Welcome to Process 1, this is where you will learn the fundamental skills of nursing. I covered most questions in our previous zoom meeting so I will not be answering any today unless it has to do with the material. As I said before you must abide by the rules because this is Nursing and we need to shape you into future nurses. I will NOT baby you because this is college and if your looking for an easy class then you can go do Business Administration."

Oh great, another smart a**, you thought.

"Now let's get down to business. Today we're going to be watching videos of what you are going to do for your head-to-toe assessments. But before we do that I am going to let the other clinical instructors introduce themselves."

After they introduced themselves your professor started the videos. At first they seemed interesting but then after a while you started to get sleepy. And you weren't the only one. You looked over at Eunwoo and he was already sleeping. You gently pushed his shoulder and he woke confused about his surrounding until he realized he was still in school. Thankfully your professor finally gave you guys a break from watching videos.

"Okay now we are going to practice what you just saw. I want you to take a finger and find the 1st intercostal space and then the 2nd and don't stop until you get to the 5th one. You will do this on yourselves first and in a few minutes on your partner. But when you are with your partner you will only go to the 2nd one. "

That shouldn't be too hard, it's literally just the space between your ribs, you thought. But boy were you wrong. You couldn't tell if what you were touching was a space or something else and it started to hurt because you were putting a good amount of pressure. You looked over at Eunwoo and surprisingly he seemed to know what he was doing.

The few minutes were up and your professor told you to find a partner and find their intercostal spaces. Obviously you chose Eunwoo as your partner.

"Did you find it on yourself yet?"

"Yepp, it was actually pretty easy to find."

"Can you help me please?"

"Are you sure you want me to touch there?" He said with a smirk.

You narrowed your eyes at him, "Fine. I'll ask someone else. Maybe that guy by the projector... "

"No don't do that."

"Then help me and don't you dare try to do anything."

"Yes ma'am."

He took his pointing finger and started in the upper middle of your chest and dragged it side to side. In a non sexual way of course. He found it to be bit difficult to find it because of the fat in your boobs. However he finally found it.

"Ah, there it is."

"You found it?"

"I found two of them. The other 4 are a bit difficult to find since they’re underneath your top. The only way I can find it is if I stick my hand in your top."

"Eunwoo." You warned.

"What? I was just saying. I never said I was actually going to." He said feigning innocence.

"Could of fooled me."

He just shrug his shoulders, "Give me your finger so I can help you locate it."

It took a minute before he was able to locate it again but when you finally felt it you let out a breath of relief. You knew you needed to find this for your finals and if you weren't able to you surely would fail the class.

"Do you feel it?"

"Mhmm"

"Good, now find mine"

Since Eunwoo had a flatter chest than you it was easier to find despite him laughing from being ticklish. Before you had a chance to tell him your finding, your professor interrupted you.

"Fooling around isn't going to get you to pass my class."

"But we-" You said.

"Aa! Talking back isn't going to help you pass either. Now go find another partner. You need to practice on your other classmates because your not going to know who you'll be testing with until testing day."

You felt your insides boiling. You had to deal with this crap in high school and now your dealing with this in college. When he left you let out a strained sigh and Eunwoo instantly rubbed circles in your back to calm you down. Normally you would welcome this but you didn't want the professor coming back over to scold you so you pushed his hand off. He looked at you clearly hurt by your actions but you brushed it off and went to find a new partner. Unfortunately the only person available was actually the guy by the projector but at this point you didn't care.

You walked up to him and tapped his shoulder, "Excuse me, do you uh have a partner?"

He turned around to see who tapped his shoulder. You expected him to answer but then he started to check you out with a smirk on his face. "Well hello there, what can I help you with beautiful?"

You rolled your eyes, "I asked do you have a partner?"

"Oooo sassy too, I like"

You narrowed your eyes and turned to walk away, "I don't have time for this."

"Wait! I'm sorry I was just surprised you asked me when you have your boyfriend."

"Not trying to be mean or anything but I wouldn't had asked you if I wasn't forced to choose another partner."

He looked at you slightly deflated by your confession, "Ah... I see but since you need a new partner I'll gladly take the spot for now." He said as he got up to make his chest more accessible.

"...okay... thanks I guess."

At first it started off fine., You were able to find it on him rather quickly. However when it was his turn that's when it turned into a problem. He found the first one and gradually went lower until he reached the beginning of hem of your scrub top. You expected him to stop there but when he started to put his hand lower in your top you instantly jumped back.

"Wh-what are you doing?!?!?!"

"Just doing what we were told to do."

"You were supposed to stop at 2."

"Was I? Must've misheard, my bad." If you weren't paying attention to his tone you would've thought he was being sincere just by his facial expression.  

Not wanting to cause a scene the first ay of class you excused yourself and went  back tp your seat to think about what just happened. Was this something you would need to report or were you over exaggerating? Should you tell Eunwoo? What if the guy was right and made you get in trouble for not listening to instructions? All those questions raced through your mind until Eunwoo saw your troubled face and left his partner to comfort.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked as he placed a comforting hand on your back not caring if the professor saw.

"Yea... actually no."

"What happened?"

"I was working with that guy over and he was about to put his fingers down my shirt before I stopped him."

Eunwoo's gaze instantly hardened and if looks could kill that guy would no more. But you couldn't have your boyfriend fighting your battles for you. You gently cupped his face with your hands and made him look at you.

"Promise me your not going to do anything."

"I don't know..."

"Promise me."

"I can't promise I won't do anything but I do promise to not intervene over something you can handle."

"I guess I can take that."

"You'll have to because I am not about to just let some guy touch you like that without your permission. He's lucky I wasn't there because he surely would've been picking his teeth off the floor."

"You know, I never took you as the violent type."

"I can promise you I'm not but this is a different story."

That was the end of the conversation because your professor continued on with the rest of the lesson which was fairly easy. He dismissed the class an hour earlier since it was the first day. However when you guys went home instead of relaxing you started your clinical homework because you didn't want a repeat of what happened last night.

It was about 11 o'clock when you finished half of the assignments. Eunwoo was starting to lose focus so you decided it was time to go to bed. After you finished putting on his t-shirt and your curls in a bun, you went to join him in bed. He pulled you closer to him so that there was barely any space between the two of you. You knew this was his way of silently comforting you. He wasn’t going to lie. He was looking forward to having sex with you but after todays events he knew you probably weren't going to be in the mood and just want to sleep off the days problem. You were thankful but deep down you knew you weren't going to get much sleep that night...

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the photo’s used. I got them off of Google.

A/N: Soooo sorry for the long wait. I had so much to write that Ii realized I couldn’t put everything in this one post. On that note I’m hoping I can have the next post up by next week. :)

#eunwoo #eunwoo smut #eunwoo angst #astro smut #astro angst #eunwoo fluff #astro fluff #eunwoo x reader #nursing au