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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 8 months

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Words: 3,834 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Warnings: language, blood and gore, some sexuality, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is part of a series! Find all the parts on the Master List!

Previous Chapter here

Summary: Y/N and Daryl soak in their newfound closeness before heading out for a quick chore and some time together.

Your name: submit What is this?

It was one of the gentlest wakings you could remember—being pulled slowly from sleep by the soft shuffling of one of the dogs on the rug after a deep night of sleep that was free from new nightmares or bad memories. And then you became aware of his warmth and weight beside you. Even through your closed eyelids Daryl was steady and strong. You opened them to find his blue eyes already fixed on your face and then he smiled, almost a little abashedly as if you’d caught him at something he shouldn’t be doing, and your lips curved into a smile that mirrored his.

You drew in a deep, sustaining breath and shifted among the mess of sheets. There was a space between you and Daryl, but only a small one.

“You couldn’t sleep in?” you asked him gently. You could tell by the filtered light that it was much later than either of you usually rose.

“Nah, I coulda gone back to sleep,” he said. His voice was extra gravelly. “But once I woke up, I just—didn’t wanna close my eyes again,” he said. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile. “I ain’t been awake long though. Actually managed a pretty good night’a sleep for once.”

“Good. That’s good.” You paused and bit your bottom lip subconsciously. “Wonder why that is,” you said warmly.

Daryl let out an amused exhale. “No idea,” he drawled.

You smiled softly and sighed and then couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you. The cabin always grew cold overnight without anyone tending the fires.

Daryl immediately looked concerned. “Ya cold?”

“A little,” you admitted. “Just because the fire went out while we slept.”

He started to shift in the blankets.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, leaning up on an elbow.

“Yer cold. ‘M gonna get the fires goin’ again, warm this place up.”

“Don’t.”

Daryl gave you a questioning look, one hand still on the quilt, ready to throw it off and slip out of bed.

“Just—come warm me up instead?” you said softly. “Please?”

His eyebrow quirked up at that. “What’d ya have in mind exactly?” he asked.

“Whatever you think is best,” you said with a small laugh.

He studied your face for a long moment and then moved in toward you. He reached for you, a little hesitantly at first, but more needily when you shifted closer to him, moving into his arms. He tucked you up against him and you nestled into the crook of his neck and sighed contentedly. Your fingers fanned out against his bare chest. “This is perfect,” you breathed. “Thank you.”

He chuckled and you heard it reverberating deeply in his chest. “Warmer?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Happy to help. ’M practically a furnace. Definitely more of an advantage here than when I was growin’ up in Georgia,” he drawled.

“Mmm. I bet,” you hummed. Your fingertip traced the edge of one of the scars on his chest and you leaned in and kissed it. Daryl’s hand smoothed down your arm and onto your waist, following the crest of your hip and then landing on your leg. His fingers grazed over the scarred landscape of your upper leg and at first you flinched away, but his touch was so gentle and steady that you let go of your gripping anxiety and settled in again. You flushed with heat when his hand drifted away and departed to your thigh. His fingertips dimpled into the softness there and then he drew your leg toward his body until it was draped over his. Electric tingles seemed to erupt all over your skin. Your teeth nestled into the pillow of your bottom lip. You nuzzled in against his neck and kissed it gently.

Daryl responded by gently squeezing your thigh.

You kissed his neck again, this time lingering with your lips against his skin.

Goosebumps erupted on Daryl’s skin and he let out a sigh that had a raspy edge to it. You smiled and pulled slightly back so you could look into his face. You hand landed lightly on his chest. The look he gave you was needy.

“What do you say to me letting the dogs out and feeding them, brushing our teeth, and meeting back in here for a hot shower?” you asked him.

Daryl’s eyes flickered over your face. “I say I must be fuckin’ dreamin’.”

You gently trapped a strand of his hair between your fingers and followed its gentle wave down to the end. “You’re not. I’m at least 95% sure.”

“I’ll get the fires goin’ again too while ya let the dogs out. But dun take too long.”

“I won’t.”

Though you both were a little loathe to separate, you untangled yourselves and Daryl threw the covers back and pulled on his discarded pants. He grabbed his shirt off the floor getting ready to pull it on.

“Can I borrow that?” you asked, still shrouded in the sheets.

“This?” he asked, gesturing with his button up. “Ya wanna borrow it?”

“Yeah. Just for five minutes,” you said.

He tossed it to you and watched you pull it on and button it up. It swallowed you up and hung on your smaller frame. You slipped out of bed, your hands tucked in the sleeves. Daryl looked you up and down.

“What do you think?” you asked, laughing at his expression.

“If ya promise to wear it jus’ like that all the time, ya can keep it,” he drawled. He gulped, suddenly nervous again as he wondered at how goddamn beautiful you were, even with sleep messed hair and hidden in his clothes. How the hell had Brian’s dying wish led to here?

You moved past him to greet the dogs, but your fingertips brushed over his bare skin and he shivered from the electric chill they elicited. “Meet you right back here in five minutes?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, nudging his nose up at you in that characteristic Daryl-way.

Dogs pottied and fed, coffee brewing in the kitchen, teeth brushed, you headed back into your bedroom to find Daryl sitting on the side of the bed, petting Strider. A fire was crackling happily in the hearth again. Your heart lifted at the sight of him.

He looked up at the soft padding of your feet and again drank in the sight of you in just his shirt. His chest seemed to burst with heat. You smiled at him. That damn smile, just for him. It didn’t seem to make any fucking sense, but there it was.

“Still up for that shower?” you asked, feeling suddenly a little more shy. You fiddled with your hands hidden in the long sleeves of his shirt.

He nodded. “Yeah. If you are.”

You nodded back. “Yeah. I am.”

Maybe he could sense your sudden vulnerability, or maybe he was just being him but he got up and crossed the space to you and pulled you in against him gently, one hand on your hip and one moving to clasp your face. His eyes flickered between yours. “Ya wanna know ‘bout the first time I thought ya were beautiful?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “It was when I woke up on that mat of skins all covered over in blankets in front of the fire, nothin’ on but my damn boxers. And I looked up, and there ya were, just sittin’ on the couch eatin’ a bowl of somethin’, starin’ at me. Sure, I was disoriented and confused as hell, but I just stared at ya and thought ‘Who the hell is this goddamn beautiful woman and why the fuck is she lookin’ at me?’ And then it just never seemed to make any sense… Still don’t really,” he said, ducking his head. “And then I got to know ya and ya got more beautiful every fuckin’ day. And before I knew it, I was in too deep to get out. It was like plungin’ into that frozen lake.”

“You’re one to talk… What kind of person crosses damn near the entire country in a fucking apocalypse to find the sister of a—of a dead man? Just because he asked? And the more I get to know you, the more I realize that’s just who you are. You’ll do anything for the people you care about. It’s a miracle you made it here in one piece and even more of a miracle that we somehow stumbled on each other.”

“I dun exactly believe in God or fate, but tha’s as good’a argument as I’ve ever heard,” Daryl drawled.

“Exactly.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead softly. “C’mon. I need that hot shower. ‘M cold. Somebody stole my damn shirt.”

You grinned up at him and a laugh bubbled out of you. The next moment you laced your fingers with his and tugged him toward the bathroom.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You and Daryl couldn’t stop smiling at each other. You were still drying off after a rather steamy shower… Daryl felt as though he could still hear the noises of pleasure he’d been able to pull from you ringing in his ears. Flashes of the water cascading over your collarbone or running along the angle of your shoulder blade as he pressed you against the wall burst in his mind’s eye and—

“Daryl?”

He suddenly realized you were talking to him. “Hmm?”

You laughed and smiled at him, a flush in the apples of your cheeks. “I was asking what you wanted to do today?”

“S—sorry. Uhh… I dunno.” More of what you’d just done would be nice. His cheeks flushed.

You were still smiling at him. “It’s okay. I had an idea,” you said.

“What’s that?”

“Have you ever seen elk up close?” you asked.

“Nah. Not really. I saw some from far out when I was travelin’ here, but that’s it,” he drawled. “Why?”

“I know where the herds hang out in the winter. They’re pretty amazing to see up close. I thought we could go. It’s not too far.”

Daryl gave you a fond look and your heart fluttered. “That sounds—sounds real good. There’s one other thing though…”

“Hmm?”

He nervously rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, we should prob’ly check those walker traps we put up the other day.” His stomach dropped at the thought of it. He hadn’t told you that the snares had been triggered the day before and he still needed to dispose of those corpses. The thought of it brought forward more serious conversations that he was dreading trying to broach; the valley flooded with walkers, the fast runners, him having to leave to get back to everyone in the east and the thought of what if you wouldn’t come with… especially now that he’d realized how head over heels he was for you.

You finished pulling your socks on and looked up at him. “You think there will be anything in them?” Daryl thought he heard a slight edge of apprehension in your tone.

“Mmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, and then he nodded. “I dunno...” Better tell you now than dragging it on any longer. “But there were some in the snares yesterday.”

Your face dropped. “Oh. Really?”

He nodded, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip. “Yeah. I didn’t wanna ruin the evenin’ again yesterday after the storm and everythin’. ‘M sorry I didn’t tell ya right away.”

Your brow furrowed deeply. “How many were—” You broke off and Daryl could almost see how your mind was whirling. “How many?” Your eyes were a little wide as you looked up at him.

Daryl wished he could tell you otherwise, but he couldn’t. “Three in the snares but I saw more tracks while I was out there. Course they coulda been made by the same ones. I dunno…”

You seemed frozen for a long moment, staring off vaguely at the space ahead of you. At length, you shook your head. “I don’t understand how they’re getting this far up. They shouldn’t be getting this far up the mountain…” You said it more to yourself than to him.

Daryl gulped. “I know.”

You sighed heavily and nervously bit the inside of your cheek. “Alright. Well… we better check those then,” you said, climbing to your feet.

“Ya comin’ with?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I want to see what’s out there. Then after, if we feel up to it, I can show you the elk.” You managed to give him a tight smile, but both of you could sense that the bubble of bliss you’d been cloaked in since the previous night had burst. With the thought of the infected weighing heavily on your minds, being tangled in the sheets together and colliding under the steamy shower spray suddenly felt like a lifetime ago.

In a few minutes, you and Daryl were geared up and bundled for the cold. The dogs burst through the cabin door into the snow and bounded happily among the drifts. You slung your recurve bow up on your shoulder and stowed your knife on your hip. “Ready?” you asked.

Daryl was armed and waiting. “Yeah. Followin’ you,” he said. You both stepped out into the deep snow.

It was still quite cold, but less bitter than had been left in the wake of the storm the day before. The dogs seemed to be soaking up the sunshine as they tunneled their noses under the snow and then stopped to sniff the air. You found yourself slightly on edge and watching their body language and behavior closely. Those fucking runners were on your mind. Your eyes scanned the snow and more than once you thought you heard a stick snap in the woods and froze to listen. Having Daryl beside you helped immensely, but you still were hypervigilant.

Eventually you rounded a little knoll and slowed your pace. The snares were just up ahead. Before you even reached them you stopped cold. There was a bright red spot in the snow.

Daryl swung his crossbow down off his shoulder and stepped around you. “What is it?” He stopped and knelt down to look at the blood droplet. He glanced up at you with a furrowed brow.

“That’s really fresh,” you said. You nocked an arrow on your bow and glanced at the dogs. They stood nearby, rigid and listening, noses sniffing incessantly up in the air. Strider let out a low growl.

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed softly, standing and scanning the surroundings. “C’mon. These tracks lead off toward the snares anyway.”

You followed behind him now. He took the lead instinctively, protectively, and you relinquished it to him without argument. As you got closer to the snares, you both began to hear faint growling sounds and Strider barked and charged ahead, his hackles raised. Bear took off after him.

As you plunged after them into the trees, you came upon three walkers hoisted by their legs in the snares. The corpses Daryl had left behind the day before were still piled but had obviously been gnawed on only to prove too frozen.

“Shit,” you murmured, lowering your bow. You paced forward past Daryl and stopped almost directly underneath them. You stared up at them, your expression dark. “Strider. Bear. Heel.”

The dogs stopped their circling beneath the infected and came to your sides. You watched the walkers swaying like some kind of perverse piñatas.

“Here,” Daryl said gently. “Just step back a little. I’ll get ‘em.” He touched you lightly on the sleeve.

“It’s okay. I’ve got it,” you murmured. You seemed to come out of your trance and you raised you bow again, drawing it back and letting an arrow fly squarely into the forehead of the closest walker reaching for you where it dangled. It stilled and a thick trickle of blood oozed down and dripped into the snow. You walked forward and retrieved your arrow before repeating the process with the remaining caught infected. The final one, however, was clearly not of the typical sluggish variety. It moved violently in the snare, its arms flailing with alarming speed as it growled and yelled and attempted to reach you. You felt nauseous as you nocked your arrow one final time and it was more difficult to aim with the runner’s frantic movements spinning and swinging it on the end of the rope. But when you let your arrow go, it landed with deadly accuracy. The silence that fell seemed deafening and neither you, nor Daryl, or even the dogs moved for a long moment. The bodies continued to sway in front of you slightly.

Finally, Daryl glanced back over at you, trying to read your face. It was marked with deep disconcertion. “Ya okay?” he asked.

You pulled in a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh and shook your head. “Not really.” You finally looked over at him and your eyes seem large and worried, as if the rest of you was shrinking away in front of him. “Another one of those—those runner things,” you said. “Fuck.” You ducked your head and ran a hand over your face. Bear sat down beside you and whined, clearly sensing your mood. You reached over absently and sunk your fingertips into his thick fur.

Daryl went to each snare and lowered the bodies, pulling them to the pile of the infected from the day before. While he reset the snares, you unpacked a load dry wood from your pack and tossed it on, adding green pine boughs to the pile too. Daryl poured on the mix of oil and gas he’d brought from the shop and threw a lit match on.

The two of you stood side by side and watched it burn for a long time without speaking. The snow around it hissed and sizzled. The wood popped. The forest around you was silent. Finally, you shifted beside him.

“We’re probably gonna have to come back with more wood and stuff tomorrow. Finish mopping up this mess.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.” His fingers moved anxiously over his crossbow, fiddling with this and that. “Ya wanna just go home?” he asked, hazarding a glance at your expression again.

You paused thoughtfully for a moment and then tried to rally yourself. “No. I’m not gonna let a few of these undead fucks ruin our whole day.” You straightened up and met his eyes.

He gave you a half-smile. “Well, tha’s good. ‘Cause somebody promised me an elk today.”

“Are you still up for it?” you asked, for the first time realizing how truly worried he had looked only moments ago.

“Hell yeah,” he drawled. He shouldered his bow again. “Lead the way.”

You whistled to the dogs and left the snares behind. It took you a little time to find the path you wanted to take in the deep snow, but once you found the stone marker you’d placed yourself years ago, the walk was easier. Deep game trails were already cut through the drifts by deer and other wildlife and you were able to pass easily over the compacted snow. The walk was scenic and Daryl found himself stopping every so often to admire some glen that seemed iced in fairytale white or to peer up at a jagged rock outcropping that towered overhead. You always noticed when he’d slowed or stopped and you would pace back to stand beside him and appreciate the scene too. And then he often found himself gazing at you instead.

“Come on, quit that,” you laughed once, having caught him looking at you instead of at the partially frozen little creek you’d both stopped beside.

The corners of his eyes crinkled a little in the ghost of a smile. “Why?”

“Because it’s making me blush,” you retorted. There was definitely heat blooming in your face.

He shrugged. “I can’t tell. Yer cheeks are already pink from the cold.”

You’d linked your arm with his and leaned your head against his shoulder then. The gentle babbling of the creek was a perfect soundtrack and lifted both of your spirits after the grim discovery earlier. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

Daryl let you slip apart from him and followed behind you again. You led him down a little dip into a coulee which widened into an open area rimmed with trees. You slowed and began to move quietly, digging into the side pocket of your pack for your binoculars. You scanned the snow and soon began to see elk prints. You pointed them out to Daryl. “The herd likes to hang out around here in the winter. It’s protected from the wind and has plenty of browse.”

Daryl examined the hoof print, awed by the size of it. “When do ya think these are from? Last night?”

“Mmm,” you nodded, looping the strap of your binoculars around your neck. “Looks like. Come on.” You made the dogs walk beside you again and began to weave through the trees to a spot you usually were able to conceal yourself in and have some good views of the elk herd lounging.

But Daryl nearly ran into you when you stopped dead in front of him.

“Y/N?” He could feel how your body tensed. “S’goin’ on?”

He watched as you raised the binoculars to your eyes and peered through them. Your voice was airy and disconnected when you tried to speak. “There’s a—I think there’s an elk kill ahead but it’s—it doesn’t—”

Daryl’s heart started to pound. “Doesn’t what?”

“It doesn’t look right,” you said. “Something—something’s wrong.”

“What d’ya mean?” Daryl squinted ahead through the trees. Adrenaline was coursing through his bloodstream. His hearing seemed to sharpen.

“I can’t—I need to get closer,” you said, lowering the binoculars again. Your face was ashen.

“Hold up. Ya sure tha’s a good idea?”

The deep caverns of worry lines were back in your forehead again. “We need to go look at this. Trust me.”

Daryl hesitated, but finally nodded. The hair on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end as the two of you stepped forward. A raven took out from the top of a tall pine and its throaty croak echoed around you. More birds rose ahead and joined in the rasping calls. He had the overwhelming sense that things were about to irrevocably change for the worse.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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mlmxreader · 4 months

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A Little Affection | Tomas Vrbada x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hi, how are you? Could you make one with the prompts 28 and 41 with Smoke, and I would like it with a male reader if that's okay ❞

: ̗̀➛ it's rare that you and Tomas get any time together, even rarer than he can stay overnight, so making the most if it is a top priority for you both.

: ̗̀➛ nudity, swearing

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Whilst his brothers were off on business, Tomas had been given some time away from the Lin Keui and all of its duties, which in all honesty, he was more than glad of; it was difficult work for him, especially with how Bi-Han treated him so terribly and so awfully.

But now he was here, standing out in the rain as his phone flashed in his pocket with the latest weather warning, bouncing on his heels for a moment as he looked around.

Bins were cascading down the street, and the rain was hammering down so harshly that it bounced up where it hit the pavement; he was lucky enough that your home had a little porch on the front that allowed him to escape the rain at least, even though his legs were wet all the way up to his calves and he was shivering as the last few raindrops gently ran down his back.

The door opened, and Tomas let out a sigh of relief when he laid his eyes on you, daring to smile as you tugged him inside, kissing him sweetly before grimacing upon feeling his hoodie.

“You’re soaked!” You howled, shaking your head. “If we’re going to Johnny’s for the night, you need to get yourself dried.”

Tomas was about to open your mouth when he saw your roommate, Kenshi, wandering around in the kitchen without a shirt on. Without hesitation, Tomas smiled as he waved. “Evening, Mister Takahashi!”

Kenshi smiled back at him, pausing as he held his hand up and nodded curtly. “Tomas.”

“Ken!” You called out, your hand on Tomas’ chest despite the dampness seeping through to your skin. “Do you have a spare shirt?”

He nodded, daring to approach; he looked Tomas up and down, and frowned. “I think I have a spare pair of trousers, too… did you get caught in the rain?”

“I walked,” Tomas explained with a shrug, “when Kuai Liang dropped me off in the centre, I figured it wouldn’t be too bad… it wasn’t raining, then.”

Kenshi hummed, looking at you for a moment. “You ought to shower as well, it might help get you warmed up.”

You nodded in agreement. “Johnny said to be there at six, so we’ve got a good hour to get ready… that alright with you, Tomas?”

He nodded, sniffling a little. “Yeah, that’s fine - thank you, both of you.”

“You’re my… whatever in law,” Kenshi smiled, patting him on the back firmly. “I don’t mind. I’ll go see if I can get you something.”

“Come on,” you tugged Tomas’ hand as a gesture for him to follow. “We’ll go shower.”

Tomas’ features went pink as he smiled. “We?”

“I’m gonna shower with you,” you told him with a slight grin, leading him towards the bathroom. “If that’s alright?”

He nodded eagerly, trying not to grin. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s fine.”

Tomas couldn’t bring himself to speak when you got into the bathroom with him, locking the door behind you; the wind and the rain was battering the window, but he was more than distracted by how you slowly stripped your clothes, putting them into a pile beside the door.

He gawked, sure that he would be drooling in a moment as his eyes raked over your body. He swallowed thickly. You noticed him looking, grinning as you tilted your head to the side and cocked a brow.

“C’mon,” you laughed softly. “This isn’t the first time you’ve seen me naked.”

He took a few steps closer, almost closing the distance as he shook his head and hummed softly under his breath. “No, but… I haven’t seen you in so long, and… did I ever tell you that our mornings together were always my favourite thing?”

You put your hands on his shoulders, leaning into him as you hummed softly, his lips against your neck. “You always tell me whenever we wake up together… and I always think about it when you’re not here.”

“I really miss you,” he murmured against your neck, bringing you flush against him as he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “I can’t wait to wake up next to you tomorrow.”

“You will, don’t worry,” you whispered, daring to kiss him gently when you pushed him away slightly. “But first, we gotta get you showered and warmed up.”

Tomas nodded, licking his lips as he swallowed thickly and let out a shuddering sigh. “Can I at least hold your hand while we’re at Johnny’s party?”

You shrugged, leading him to the shower and turning it on; it was cold for a few seconds, but it didn’t take too long to warm up. The water cascading down your body as you hummed and brought Tomas closer to you again, kissing him so sweetly.

He softly bit at your bottom lip, silently begging for more as he whimpered under his breath at the feeling of your warm hands against his cold chest.

“I’ll think about it,” you told him softly.

“Come on,” Tomas objected half-seriously. “PDA isn’t going to kill you, now, is it?”

“It might,” you joked, swapping places with him so the droplets rolled down his body, all the way to the thick silver hair at his groyne. “A little affection wouldn’t kill either of us right now, though, would it?”

He brought you closer, pinning you between his wall and the body as he gently kissed your neck, smiling against the skin. “Do you think we can make a deal?”

You put one hand at the back of his neck, the other laced firmly in his hair as you tugged at it softly. “What kinda deal, Mister Vrbada?”

“I’ll give you a little now,” he muttered between soft kisses. “If you’ll give me some later?”

You grinned, giving his hair a firm tug to pull his head back, gently running your thumb across his bottom lip as you nodded. “Every deal should be sealed with a kiss.”

Tomas grinned back, more than eager as he kissed you happily; a little giddy as he kept you so close, his hands on your hips as he thought about how fucking lucky he was to have a boyfriend like you, and how fucking much he loved you. He hoped Kenshi picked up the ring like he had promised.

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jadedrrose · 9 months

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Passing Time

You and Law go on a short trip to a lake house, only your evening is ruined when it begins storming outside. Bored and with nothing else to do, Law proposes an idea of how to pass the time.

Warnings: afab reader, no pronouns. Minors dni, modern au, married au. This isn’t proofread so there may be mistakes lol

Things had taken a turn so quickly that you’d barely even processed the way your day had gone. You’d gone from being excited that Law was taking the two of you on a mini vacation, being bored and tired in the car ride, relaxing on the deck overlooking the lake with Law, to being upset and soaked with rain.

The weather forecast had no mention of rain over the long weekend- maybe a slight chance overnight, but nothing like this. You’d been looking forward to this little trip for nearly a month now, and upon arriving your excitement only heightened. The deck had a perfect view of the lake, there was a small boat you and Law could drive out, swings meant for two lovers to sit on together, and plenty of other outdoor activities to look forward to.

However that was all ruined in a flash- quite literally. You and Law weren’t really ones for sunbathing, but the weather was so nice and the lake looked so gorgeous that the two of you couldn’t help but just chill outside together. Then the sky got dark, and a flash of lightning struck, when all of a sudden rain poured onto the both of you.

After rushing inside and drying off, you quickly became aware that there was nothing to do but watch TV. Law decided on a horror movie, because why wouldn’t he? You hadn’t even made it an hour into the movie when the power cut. The TV clicked off, and the lights flickered out as you let out a groan of frustration. Now sitting in the dark, with only the diminishing light from outside to illuminate things, you realized you and Law had nothing left to do.

Law reacted more calmly, sighing before getting up to gather candles and light them. After the initial shock of being faced with having nothing to do while being stuck in a lake house hours away from home, you got up and helped your husband.

Working together, the two of you had gotten the small home pretty well illuminated. It wasn’t anything compared to the broken powered lights, but it would make do for now.

Law had found a random book to read, and you opted to just sit across from him on the couch, scrolling through your phone. But the signal was weak, and it was looking like you’d lose the only other thing you had left to keep yourself busy.

“You shouldn’t waste your phone’s battery,” Law’s deep voice made you jump a little, as you’d grown accustomed to the silence between the two of you. “Can’t charge it if it dies.”

You groaned again, clicking your phone off and tossing it onto the pillow beside you. “I dunno what else to do though,” you whined. “I’m already bored as it is.”

Law didn’t respond at first, seemingly thinking. But you were a little surprised when he closed the book, setting it onto the side table behind him. “I’ve got an idea or two,” he mumbled.

“Huh? What else could there possibly be to do in a house that has no power and next to nothing to entertain us with?”

“We don’t need power to keep ourselves entertained, y/n,” Law stated, looking at you with an odd smirk.

“Hell does that mean?”

Law reached forward to grab your waist, sliding you toward himself until you were situated in his lap. His hands remained on your waist, rubbing small circles into the skin underneath your tiny pajama shorts.

“I’m gonna see all the ways I can make you cum without using my cock,” he suggested, though it came out more like a statement. Like there was no say in whether or not it was happening.

“Wh-what?” You stared at your lover with wide eyes, cheeks turning red at his antics.

Law placed a kiss onto your lips, before pulling away and moving to get up, “I’ll be right back. Can you get some towels and undress for me, love?”

Sheepishly, you nodded, your entire body burning with a sudden onbringing of lust. He’d hardly done anything and Law already had you bending at his will.

With a smirk and a “good,” Law stood up before walking into the bedroom, disappearing behind the door. You got up onto shaky legs, walking over to the back door where your dried towels were laid out from earlier.

Taking them, you laid one out on the couch and left the other on the coffee table, unsure of what exactly Law wanted to do with them. You pulled off your tank top, shivers running down your spine as your breasts were now exposed to the cool air of the room. Even through the goosebumps, you could feel your body flushing with heat, turned on and longing for Law’s touch. You slid the shorts off, though they wouldn’t have been much of an obstacle anyway. But Law had told you to undress, so you assumed he meant everything.

The last thing to leave you entirely unclothed were your panties, but you’d only hooked your fingers around the sides of them when Law returned, something in hand.

He set whatever it was down on the towel you’d put on the coffee table before pulling your hands away from your hips, hooking one of his own tattooed fingers around the lace. Law pulled back on it, suddenly letting go and causing the panties to snap back against your skin.

He chuckled, pulling his own tank top off before sitting on the towel you’d laid out, keeping his legs spread wide. “C’mere,” he beckoned you with one finger, and you obliged, sitting in his lap.

Even now, you could feel how hard Law was from within his jeans. The palms of his hands slipped between your thighs, each one pushing against the skin to open your legs. One hand left its spot, instead hovering just above your still-clothed pussy, a single finger tracing over the lace of your panties.

“What should we start with…?” Law wondered, and you only then glanced forward, seeing what Law had brought into the room.

Laid out on the towel atop the coffee table, were two objects; a pink silicone dildo and a wand vibrator. Two things you had no idea Law had brought with him from home.

“My fingers, or the toys? Or even my tongue?” Law asked, his left hand still playing with your panties, teasing you.

“Y-your fingers,” you decided, wiggling in Law’s lap to turn your head to face him. You laid your head on his shoulder, mouth open as your breathed heavily against his neck.

Law hummed in response, not wasting any time in sliding his hand underneath your panties, fingers diving in to rub your pink slippery folds. He had no issue getting his fingers wet, as you were already soaking from the anticipation. “So wet already, hm?” Law taunted, sliding his palm against your clit.

Gasping, your legs shook from the contact on your sensitive button of nerves. Your husband chuckled again, dipping two fingers into your throbbing cunt, begging for anything to be inside you.

Law started out slow, scissoring the tattooed fingers within you, running his fingertips along the velvety ridges of your walls. You hadn’t allowed a moan to slip out yet, though your breathing had gotten much louder and heavier.

Without any warning, Law began to thrust his fingers into you, and the first whine spilled from your lips, another one quickly following. It was pathetic, he’d had you so worked up that you were already about to cum.

It didn’t take much longer for exactly that to happen, as your walls started to spasm around his fingers, juices flowing out of you as you came onto his hand. Law pulled his fingers out from your hole, then from your panties, before holding them out in front of you both. “Look at how much you soaked my hand,” Law hummed, “just from my fingers alone. Wonder how much you’ll cum with a vibrator?”

A broken whine left you as Law reached forward for the wand, using his other hand to tug your panties away from your pussy. Once your cunt was exposed to the cold air, you shivered as Law tossed the soaked panties away. You heard a click and then a low humming sound as the vibrator turned on.

Law kept it on the lowest setting at first, pressing it against your pussy lips and letting you get used to the sensation. It didn’t take long, though the pleasure was coming in too quickly as you were already sensitive from your first orgasm. Law upped the speed, and you could feel your cunt pulsing as the toy buzzed against you. “Look at how much you’re dripping,” Law groaned into your ear, kissing your cheek as he spoke. “Feels good, huh baby?”

“F-fuck, Law!” You moaned, squirming as he held you down, pressing the wand further against you. The toy pushed your puffy lips apart, allowing it to make direct contact with your clit. As soon as it did, something short of a scream left your mouth, and your nails dug into Law’s clothed thighs as you held onto them.

“Ah, ahhh, Law, please, it’s-“ a muffled cry left your lips as your hips jerked upward, feeling your second orgasm beginning to wash over you.

Law turned the vibrator onto its highest setting, which really sent you over the edge. Crying and shaking in his lap, your pussy began gushing and spilling that sweet nectar as you came for the second time. Broken sobs left you, body feeling weakened and sensitive from all the things Law was doing to you. And he wasn’t even done yet.

Law had decided to not turn the wand off immediately, letting it continue to grind against your cunt, overstimulating you and forcing more loud moans from your lips. “L-Laww, baby, please, I can’t take it!”

“Yes you can,” Law urged you on, “come on, y/n. Let me see you cum again.”

His words made your cunt throb and ache, and with no time at all you began squirting. Juices continued flowing and gushing out of your cunt, spilling onto the towel beneath you. You cried so loudly you were certain the neighbors could hear you, even over the thunderstorm raging outside.

Finally, Law decided to give you a break, and he pulled the wand away from your pussy, shutting it off right after. He set it down on the coffee table, trading it for the dildo instead. The toy wasn’t as large as Law’s cock, but with your overly sensitive cunt, you feared how well you’d be able to take it, if at all.

“Law,” you whimpered, through sobs, “I don’t think I can do it, ‘m too sensitive…”

“You’ll take it all, even if it makes you scream. I wanna watch you writhe and cry, y/n. And be glad it’s not my cock, ‘cause that’d be worse, wouldn’t it?”

Your chest heaved as you inhaled deeply, imagining how having his cock in you would be borderline painful right now. And even knowing that, you still longed for him to be inside you. But, Law wasn’t allowing you to have that right now, so you’d just have to accept the toy for now.

He ran the pink piece of plastic along your wet folds, gathering your slick onto it before lining it up with your hole. You could feel the tip pressing into you, just barely opening up your overstimulated cunt. You tried whining, but you couldn’t get the noises out, too fucked out from Law’s torture. Drool slipped past your lips and dripped onto Law’s bare shoulder as he shoved the dildo inside you, forcing you to take it all in one push.

Even though you weren’t able to speak a moment ago, a loud moan escaped you, ringing out and echoing in the house. Law slammed the toy in and out of you, creating the lewdest, wettest noises that even competed with the rain pounding against the roof above you.

As Law continued the assault on your cunt, you could feel his body tensing up more, his breathing becoming more uneven and louder in volume as he watched with lust.

It wasn’t long before you came once again, white creamy rings forming around the pink dildo as Law thrusted it in and out of you. Broken sobs left you, and your body squirmed and trembled as Law held you down, his hips beginning to rut up into you. He must’ve been taking a lot of pleasure in doing this to you, to the point that he was actively getting off on it without evening touching himself.

You twisted your head more to get your face aligned with Law’s, using one weak hand to pull his face to you, connecting your lips as soon as you had access to them. You moaned into his mouth, drool slipping past your lips and wetting his mouth and goatee in the process. Law’s grasp on your hip was harsh and tight, and from the way his palm squeezed you, you could feel that he was going to cum.

With one last thrust of the toy into you, Law’s hips jerked against your bare ass, and he whimpered as seed spilled within his jeans.

Finally, after so long of an endless game, Law’s movements stopped, and he allowed the dildo to drop from his hand, leaving you empty and leaking with the essence of your pleasure.

You breathed out his name, gazing into his eyes through your half-lidded ones. You were tired, body fully satisfied with what Law had done to you.

Only, the storm continued on, and it seemed Law wasn’t fully done with you. There were still many hours to pass tonight, so why stop here? You watched as a smirk form on Law’s lips, wet with your combined spit. “Y/n…”

“Yes?”

“How about I eat up all that sweet cum, hm?”

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #law x reader smut #law x reader #law x y/n #law x you #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law x you #Trafalgar d water law x y/n #law one piece x reader #trafalgar law

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kingofthe-egirls · 9 months

Note

Hello hello!

Ok, I have a thought, hear me out!

Silly is the New sexy was amazing and we could need a Part 2~

Like, luffy can't help but think about your body and wants to do it again but she turns him down because you know people are literally being everywhere.

So! New Island, she stayed behind because of the short staw she draw, letting everyone go. She was totally fine and made stuff around the sunny. Imagine, she being in the kitchen as Lu burst in with a happy grin and be like >were alone! We can Do it again!< she just laughs and >give me a few after I wash the dishes<.

Lu pouts but sit down between her legs and be like prompt 8!

👀👀👀

ok im not gonna write the preamble bc u already did lmao let's skip straight to the smut, shall we?

DIRTY DISHES: LUFFY x Y/N

part 1

(cw: silly = sexy, est relationship, misuse of devil fruit, nipple play, face sitting, also this is my kitsune oc so kill the part of you that cringes, blowjob)

(a/n: i'll never stop playing dress up)

Songs: "Hard Feelings/Loveless" by Lorde, "The Bomb" by Florence + the Machine, "Morning Elvis" by Florence + the Machine

words: 1.5k

Luffy sits between your legs, head bumping back against the counter. His legs are splayed out in front of him, rolling back and forth like a little kid's. "Come onnnn," he whines, tugging at the cuffs of your denim shorts. He drags his fingertips up and down your fishnets, ribbing them in a satisfying, slow rumble.

You reach over him to finish scrubbing the dirty dish in your hands. Pizza sauce is crusted on from last night's dinner (sometimes even Sanji sets dirty plates to soak in the sink overnight).

"Okay, okay," you say, swiftly drying the plate with a soft towel. You set it in the dishrack, sparkling and clean, before turning back to your boyfriend. He's grinning up at you like a fucking capuchin.

"Hey."

You snort, rolling your eyes before crouching down to his eye level. He reaches forward to grab a strand of your hair, rubbing the damaged, bleached ends between his finger and thumb. It scratches against his skin. "Wanna play?"

"Obviously, Luffy. Now take your clothes off." You pull your own sweater off over your head--a baby blue cropped thing that you paired over a black bralette. You're wearing dark denim shorts with silver buttons down the side. Luffy tugs at the laces of your black boots. Steel-toed, a gift from Robin last time you docked portside.

Luffy giggles, and pulls his red t-shirt off over his shoulders. He slides down so he's lying on his back, stretching his rubber arms out to grab your hips. He slams you down onto his own face, cunt first.

"Fuck--!" You squeal, squirming in his arms so as not to crush his sweet little face. He's grinning at you like the devil.

"Sit," he commands, and you do. He bites at the denim of your shorts, not even bothering to take them off before he's running his thick hands all over you. You shrug off your bralette, letting your tits hang down, soft and bouncy above your ribcage. Luffy eagerly reaches up to grab them. He rolls his thumbs around your nipples in wide, slow circles. "So fuckin' pretty f'me," he murmurs, before stretching his neck up to suck on them. It's kinda alien, seeing his neck stretched out like a rubber band, but his tongue is magic so you don't fucking mind. You tilt your head back in pleasure, softly moaning.

"So good," you praise him, running your fingers over his hair. It's soft, and you pet him for a bit as he sucks on your sensitive nipples. You ride his abdomen, sitting on his stomach while he plays with you.

Your tails flick in pleasure.

"S'pretty, kitty," he says again, bucking his hips up behind you. He pops off your tits with a smack. His hands reach up to scritch at the base of your foxy ears. You hum, eyes closed in comfort.

"So are you," you say, reaching down to unbutton your shorts. You stand up, over him, to slide them down your legs. You leave the fishnets on. You're straddling him, looking down at your sweet captain with your legs on either side of his waist. Your boots stay on, too. The rose-gold bellybutton piercing sparkles at your abdomen: something you and Nami did on a whim last island, too.

"Spread your legs f'me," he says, staring up at your fishnet heat, so you lift a leg to place your boot on the counter. He's staring open mouthed at your cunt, left bare and dripping without any panties.

He licks his lips.

Suddenly, he's grabbing you by the waist again and slamming you down hard onto his waiting face. He slurps at your sensitivity, swiftly turning his hair white as he activates Gear 5. His tongue expands, shoving inside your slippery cunt as his eyes swirl rosy. Somewhere, a train whistle sounds in an honest to god awooga.

Shit.

"Luffy!!" You complain, as he rips your tights to give himself more room. Steam is pouring out of his ears, his eyes rolled back and crossed as he sloppily licks at your cunt. You're already dripping.

It's so cartoony, with him.

The sea laps at the side of the sunny, sparkling and sapphire in the afternoon sun. Seagulls call overhead. You watch them circle in the pastel sky through the window over the sink. Sparks soar into view as Luffy warps the energy of reality around him. You feel it pulling into you like gravity, bringing you ever and always closer to your captain.

He sucks on your clit.

You scream, surprised at the sudden suction. He slaps your ass cheek, the sound reverberating with several boi-oings throughout the empty room. You groan, sending your head back to just enjoy the sensations. You roll your hips over his tongue, sending shivers down your spine. He grips your hips, bringing you down harder.

"Sit!"

You squeal, letting your full weight sink down onto your captain's face. Supporting yourself on the sink, your hands grip around the cool porcelain as Luffy sends stars into your eyes. Sparkles alight overhead as his own pleasure creeps up. He's bucking his hips up behind you, and you turn to stretch yourself enough to reach his hard cock through his jeans. He lets you lean over, supporting your hips in his searing grasp. Your tails frizz out, shivering and shaking as he sends you over the edge.

Stars.

You gasp, coming to with sore thighs and an aching belly.

"Sweet girl," Luffy croons, letting you slide off him to the side. You collapse onto the tile, letting the coolness seep into your heated skin.

He sits up, wiping off your slick from his soaking chin.

"My turn?"

You smile, nodding eagerly as Luffy rips off his shorts. You settle onto your own back this time, letting him straddle your head. His sticky cockhead is shimmering with precum, and you reach out for an experimental lick. He shivers, letting out a hiss through his teeth.

"That's it," he says, rocking his hips forward. The tip hits your lips, and you let him in. You start sucking hard on his head, and he lets out a strangled moan. You run sweet, kitten licks up and down his aching shaft. The veins are bulging and sensitive, and every slide or dart of your tongue elicits sharp inhales and gasps from your lover above you. He shallowly thrusts his cock deeper into your mouth.

Stretching, you take him down your throat.

Luffy groans, softening your skin with ripples of elastic energy. His hair is fluffy and white, with matching clouds floating above his head. Your tails are squished behind you, but they flutter in soft, shivering arcs. He reaches down to grab one, wrapping it around his wrist.

He tugs.

"Ouch!" You yelp, trying to pull your seventh tail out of his grasp. He giggles, and doesn't let go. Instead, he pulls harder. An airhorn sounds. "Luffy!!!" You complain, face heating up. His cock muffles your words, but you glare up at him anyway.

"Shishi, sorry," he giggles, slowing his pace slightly. You relax, slowly sucking on his shaft as his thrusts grow erratic and sloppy.

His balls smack harsh against your chin.

Sizzles and pops sound overhead, and you open your eyes to watch star shapes dance around Luffy's face. His cheeks are flushed, and his head is tilted back. His adams apple bobs with his raspy pants.

The stars float down over both of you, sparkling and bursting in silvery rainbow shimmers. Luffy speeds up, his hips now a blur as you do your best to take it. A star slips down to bounce off your cheek and onto the floor. It sizzles out of existence.

A slight halo glows around your lover's face.

You wrap your hands around his thighs, and suck harder. He gasps, and spills his seed into your mouth. It spurts out from the corners of your lips, filling your senses with musky bitterness.

"Shit, shit shit," he groans, arching his back as he shudders and gasps. You moan, vibrations sending through his pulsing cock.

"Sweetheart," he moans, pulling out of your mouth. He sits back on his heels, giving you room to sit up. You rub at your sore jaw, before wiping his spend off the sides of your face. It smears into the soft hairs on your forearm, sticky and sweet. He grins, and reaches forward to pull you up into a kiss. He tastes like sugar.

"Sweet," you tease him, pulling on a lock of his downy hair. He snickers, swatting your hand away. "Snackies?"

He laughs outright, slapping his belly. He giggles, hiding his face in one hand. "Shishishi, hahahahaa!" He slips backward, bouncing on the now-rubbery floor. It buoys him, snickering and rolling on the elastic tile. It rocks you, too, as you stand on shaky legs.

"Luffy," you grin, tripping over your own feet onto his smiling frame. He catches you with an oof! as two arms come to snake around you. He brings you down to nuzzle against his face, skin soft and sweaty. He breathes into your hair, inhaling deeply. His fingers scritch at your scalp, and you peak up to see his hair swirling black.

The floor steadies beneath you.

"Snackies," he agrees, before he stands up with his arms still wrapped around you.

****

#dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy smut #luffy x you #luffy x oc #vasya #fox tales #one piece smut

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eddies-house · 8 months

Text

The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)

Chapter Seven - Bake Sale

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - The calm after the storm.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

8.7K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, drug dealing, allusions to mental illness, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: i think im super proud of this one omg guys also...I put a little note at the end cause i didn't wanna spoil anything by saying what i was gonna say. also i fixated so much on each section of this as i wrote it so its like half proof read and then i was like ok the rest is up to god

Masterlist

Prev |

The storm subsided at around 2:00 AM and it would go down as the biggest storm in Hawkins’ history to date. The flooding was unlike anything anyone had seen in years and the poor unequipped town was drenched to its roots. Minor water damage affected homes and businesses, nothing too devastating but an inconvenience nonetheless. A few trees had been struck down, if not by lightning then by the high winds that coursed through the night like they owned it. Streets were blocked off with caution tape and traffic cones as the damages were assessed and Hawkins Square was littered in deep puddles that would soak you up to the knee if you happened to misstep.

It was fitting. The world seemed to look just as you felt. Mutilated. Tarnished. The calm after the storm, indeed. Although things that night looked up between you and Eddie, an invisible peace treaty signed by the ink bleeding on the coffee cup, the scars didn’t just vanish. This wasn’t a movie, this was real life and things didn’t just become beautiful again over night. Pain didn’t just cease because you wanted it to or because someone said the right thing. Someone could say a million of the right things but it doesn’t excuse their wrongdoings and the harm they’re capable of. And it doesn’t erase them as someone who would pull the trigger on you if given the chance.

The sun flowed into the room at just the right angle, the kitchen countertop illuminated with the faintest rainbow in the morning light. Beauty after tragedy. It was cold, god was it cold. The apartment might as well have been a walk-in freezer at this point, a place where you could store cold cuts and popsicles without hesitation. But it was hard to complain about your living conditions when there was a warmth blossoming deep within your very being. Whiskey colored eyes had the same effect as the real thing. Warming you up from the inside out, relaxing every tensed muscle, melting away every stupid problem. It pooled deep within you, a buried desire that was clawing its way out of your chest. You’d been without a glance of those rich and honeyed irises for at least six hours, well into the beginning of the hour of 8:00 AM and yet it felt like you’d drank them in seconds ago with the way your veins heated. The way your blood pumped and your nerves mellowed out. If he was like a smooth shot of whiskey, you were at risk of becoming an alcoholic if you weren’t careful.

Snap out of it.

This was not a fairytale, things could not be fixed overnight. He was still a stranger to you, a shell, you could not settle into comfort so easily, no matter how good it felt. It didn’t matter that the buzz lingering beneath your surface was far more powerful than the first time at sixteen.

It didn’t matter.

All you knew was hurt by the hands of those closest and you weren’t going to let it happen again. Never again. Not even for boyish dimples. Not even for the stupid cup of hot chocolate. And certainly not for the way it felt to be pressed against his back when you begrudgingly accepted a ride home on his death machine of a motorcycle the night of the storm. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have prime real estate in the back of your mind.

–

His hair. Several curls falling from the confines of the low messy bun that should warrant a lecture from you on the food safety guidelines but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Soft brown tendrils framed a concentrated face, tongue poked out in deep thought at the simple task of blending ice and coffee. The grinding of the blades against the ice for longer than necessary should have you in shambles, causing an uproar, at the very least scolding him under your breath. You don’t. Instead it’s as if you’re under some kind of spell, a spell that continuously draws you to the insufferable but absolute Disney prince of a man before you. It had been years since you’d seen him in such a light and it made everything all the more conflicting.

I hate him.

Several curses escaped his delicately pink lips as the blender came to a halt, the consistency of the liquid was long overblended and almost became a thicker milk but all you could focus on as his back came to face you was his broad shoulders, far more adult than you’d ever realized. He was no longer a lanky high schooler, his frame had filled out and it filled out in his favor. Had his arms only recently become a touch manlier or did your subconscious automatically blur it out all those times you encountered him only to end up with even more distaste after each interaction? A distaste which would only blind you to the man he grew into.

No, I hate him.

But the moment you would tear your gaze away it would only gravitate right back to his hands which you guessed were noticeably larger than your own but you were in no position to find out. With his rings more than likely temporarily abandoned atop the table in the back, his fingers seemed bare. It only further made you appreciate them, a flash of a daydream posed in your mind where large hands decorated with chipped black polish rested at your waist.

No, no, no.

He was not yours to daydream about nor would you want him to be.

Although…it was okay to think of him as physically attractive all while still keeping him at a distance wasn’t it? After all, he was still awful. You force yourself to recall the horrible things he’s said to you but you can only counter it with the appalling remarks you’d made in return. Though he committed a horrendous act years ago that would make you bleed for years to come, you knew it didn’t warrant some of the comments you’d snapped at him in passing. Especially those about his social status. It was becoming apparent after the previous night’s conversation that you both struggled verbally and that his crude comments were always met with your degrading criticism. You were both instigators.

But it was proving difficult to keep him in such a villainous light when he was so radiant. So effortlessly alluring even as he tossed his liquified concoction into the sink with his brows knit tightly together and profanities falling from his tongue, thankfully quiet enough as to not alert any customers. In all honesty, all he’s proved was that he was an awful barista. Even then, it didn’t bother you as much as it should, your desire to scream at him would’ve been off the charts 24 hours ago. That desire hadn’t even been simmering beneath your surface, the only desire burning within your depths was something unspoken and something you could never let bubble over ever again. You wouldn’t.

Reality began settling back in, an enraged customer snapping his fingers at you, demanding your attention as your eyes widened at the realization that he’d been waiting on a simple black cup of coffee for the past few minutes. Had the shop been busier you would’ve found a polite way to shut him up but in all fairness there were only three other customers at the moment, two of which were already enjoying their drinks. Regardless, it didn’t seem to warrant the entitled behavior of the frowning middle aged man, a simple where is my order? would have sufficed.

“I’m so sorry, let me check on that for you.”

Customer service served with a smile. And a side of sarcasm.

“Oh, you’ll check on that? It’s a cup of coffee. How hard is it to make—“

“There was a mix up with the orders, here’s your coffee. My fault.” Eddie slid the cup across the to go counter to its awaiting consumer, eyes slightly narrowed.

There was no mix up. You really did forget all about the bland coffee up until you were rudely reminded. And it definitely wasn’t Eddie’s fault.

—

1 Week Later

There was no escaping how absolutely enchanting a mundane task such as scrubbing the sink was. It didn’t make sense and yet you lingered, pretending to rinse out the blender one time too many with the hope of catching Eddie’s forearms flex in his movements as he maneuvered the sponge around the sink.

Pathetic.

Which is why you tried so hard to snap yourself out of it. Though you told yourself a week ago that you could admire from afar, even that was starting to not feel like enough which is why it needed to stop. Eddie Munson had finally apologized to you but that didn’t mean throw caution to the wind. You don’t just suddenly trust someone that for years only gave you reasons to steer far from them. The key phrase was that he finally apologized. Meaning he took far too long. Fucked up too long ago and prolonged inexcusable behavior so far into the future that it was beyond repairing. He didn’t deserve your sympathy or your persisting gaze. Sorry meant nothing in the face of years of destruction.

Keep telling yourself that.

Because all you did was remain fixated on those stupid bats decorating his forearm for as long as rinsing out the blender would allow. You had no idea how big of a breath you were holding in as you stood there next to him until you pulled away, snagging a rag from beneath the coffee bar to dry the container. Lungs suddenly exhausted, you attempted to regain a semblance of your composure.

Every conversation since that one night had gone the same. A few words exchanged pertaining to work only, some on his behalf coming off as silly banter only for you to keep your focus on any task you could grasp nearby, acting as if he bored you. It killed him but he respected it. That didn’t mean he’d stop trying to make nice. If the only positive response he received from you all week was an accidental crack in your smile he would take it. It’d be gone quicker than it came but he cherished it all the same. In the last few weeks he came to terms with the fact that he could be on his best behavior but that didn’t mean you had to accept it which in turn meant that he would have to accept that.

So your muffled answers of ‘mhm’ and ‘yeah’ to everything he said felt like the end of the world to him but if it meant peace for you then he’d endure it. The way you’d avoid his eyes made him miss you. You were an arms length away but he missed you. And no, it didn’t mean he necessarily missed prodding at you because you both had this sick game of who could throw the worst insult for years, it meant that he missed your attention, whether it be in spiteful phrases or aggressive stares. He’d take what he could get and now, he was getting nothing. He was starved, absolutely deficient of your gaze even if it did hold such a hateful fire for him. Eddie supposes avoidance feels even worse than face to face conflict that was never even meant to be. And it’s only because the way you shut down made him feel non-existent in your world. At least before he had a place.

—

1 Week Later

Before every night shift at The Under-Ground was a grueling eight hours at the auto shop. Hours that Eddie would spend mentally ripping himself to shreds even more so than before your more recent communication with him. Although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he’d sometimes wager the idea of picking a small fight with you just to earn a fraction of your recognition, even if in a negative light. Then he’d quickly acknowledge that doing so would only provide further evidence that he was never worthy of a moment of your time in the first place. And he still fully believed that. But he was eager to someday become the guy that was.

So when Steve Harrington strolled into the shop, twirling his keys around his finger, Eddie’s grip on his wrench tightened as he pushed himself further under the Chevy he’d been working on. He’d never forgive Steve for all that happened, he’d take responsibility for his side of things but Steve inflicted a kind of pain on you that he could read in your eyes every time he saw you. Though you hadn’t said much about Steve to him directly, the way you fixated on him and Eddie being ‘together’ dulled a certain light within you. How could Steve let it happen if he knew the outcome? The same could be asked of himself but he was concentrating on Steve right now. The best friend. The last person in the world you’d think to hurt you.

“Hey, Munson.”

At his feet stood the man in question. The one that he’d swear to never associate with again. Ignoring him wasn’t going to accomplish anything however he tried regardless.

“Munson.”

Figures.

“Get outta here, Harrington.” Eddie remained monotone, uninterested in any persistence Steve was forcing upon him.

“Please, I need-“

“Need what? Need me to get you off again? Get out.” It was said between clenched teeth, patience no longer a virtue. There was rage bubbling under the surface and if he wasn’t careful, it would boil over and create an even bigger mess. His conscience silenced his true inner monologue though that didn’t completely shut down his capabilities of biting back. It was just much more stifled.

“No—what? No, of course not.” Steve’s nerves were fried and Eddie could tell just by the shake in his voice. Fluorescent lights did him no favors, his usually radiant glow now dull in the stuffy garage.

“Then what, what are you doing in my bay?” A seething Eddie slides out from underneath the sedan, sitting up to glare at the king himself. “‘Cause I don’t have time for—whatever this is.” He gestures between himself and Steve, fingers covered in grease.

“Just—I—have you, have you talked to her?” Distraught. Steve has the audacity to come off as distraught. Eddie’s deep breath only furrows Steve’s brows, the vein in his neck straining as he focuses on the nearly irate mechanic before him.

“Listen.” Eddie’s coveralls are further tarnished with the oily substance from his hands as he wipes them on the rough navy material, frustration evident in the way his eyes squeeze shut for a mere second. “You two seem to think communicating through me is going to fix this whole thing but it’s not.” If he could run a hand down his face out of habit he would. Instead he offers another sigh, a disappointed one. “You need to talk to each other. You keep using the enemy as a pawn and it's just gonna blow up in your face.”

“Munson, you’re not the enemy–”

Steve attempts to make nice, tries to let Eddie know that he’s not what he claimed him to be all those times. Truth be told, Steve was always jealous.

“Don’t try pitying me, dude.”

It’s silent aside from the clanging of some tools a few bays down, the two staring at each other, one displaying an expression of warning while the other creases his forehead in some form of a plea. An unsaid call for help.

“I’m not, I’m not! I think we’ve both fucked up. Bad.” Way to go, Steve. That’ll really help your case. “Only difference is you fucked up in high school, we were all still kids.” His words are lost on Eddie, he can tell by the way he reaches back to release his unruly curls from the confines of a bun, his head shaking around like a shaggy dog. “I fucked up now so there’s no–no excuse of ‘we were so young! I was dumb!’”

His excuse was that he’s selfish. That was really all there was to it, no bigger picture, no hidden meaning that might bring justice to his name. Steve was a horny guy and he in all honesty hadn’t considered the consequences of his actions. Not even after Robin just about tore him a new one after she found out about the first time. It’s like he’d forgotten all about the absolute heartbreak you went through, the fact that Eddie harbored a sore spot in your barely beating heart was miles away from his thought process. King Steve must not have been buried that deep beneath his surface after all, not long forgotten back in junior year like he’d thought. He was right here all along with the knife in his hand, unintentionally but still brutally stabbing you in the back. And in the aftermath he was forced to bathe in the product of his egocentric ways. No amount of self help books could remedy what seemed to be another broken heart, but even worse, platonically.

This wasn’t like when he and Nancy called it quits back in senior year. This was in a way, more gut wrenching and possibly pulled more tears from him than Nancy’s cutting but truthful words ever could. And that’s saying something. He shed a lot of tears that dreadful night but he’d go as far to say that he shed more the night you caught him hopping out of Eddie’s van. Repercussions slammed his very existence and all he could do was blame himself because you had done nothing wrong and yet he went and severed the very friendship of someone who stuck by him through every questionable thing he had done.

And it was all over someone he never had any feelings for in the first place. And over someone you did. At least at some point.

“Steve, I don’t have an excuse and you know it.” Eddie was aware that he sounded borderline pathetic but what else did he have to hide? His gaze lowered to his filthy boot, eyes as tired as his brain was before exhaling in defeat. “I still keep fucking up whether I mean it or not.” His pupils seemed to dilate in mourning, of what exactly, Steve couldn’t pinpoint. Then Eddie shook his head, resentment etched into his features as he ran his tongue behind his teeth before clicking it in displeasure. “Why are you even searching for an excuse? What we both did was shitty. But for you it might be even worse because while I was the ‘bad guy’ the whole time, you were still her best friend.”

Steve was well aware. He craved the bliss that came with being ignorant but that was no longer something he could allow himself to do.

“Yeah.” He breathes out, earnest eyes dropping to the scuffed floor below him.

“Yeah? That’s it? You need to like, go beg for mercy or some shit.”

Receiving advice from Eddie Munson was the last thing Steve ever thought he’d be doing and yet here he was. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was schooling him and suddenly everything felt so backwards. But maybe that’s how it needed to be in order for things to go back to how they were. For you to at least talk to him, if not to beg for your mercy then to apologize profusely before leaving his fate in your hands.

“I know, man.” A pitiful sigh escaped his lungs, too pitiful for Eddie’s liking.

The smell of fumes throughout the shop lingered in Steve’s nostrils which left him with a tinge of discomfort but nothing could prepare him for the way Eddie almost instantly stood to tower over him despite being around the same height. It was his demeanor that made him feel inferior. Dark eyes, deepening even more so from aggravation, lips contorted into a condemning scowl, fists clenched at his side, knuckles white.

“I don’t think you do, ‘cause why are you coming to me?” Flared nostrils declared a new vendetta against Steve.

“I-I…”

“Man up, Steve. Say whatever you’re trying to say to me, to her. I’m not the one who needs an apology.” It was fair enough. Steve wasn’t sure why he walked into that garage just minutes ago. Maybe it was because despite what everyone says, Eddie was fairly level headed. Maybe it’s because Steve needed someone stubborn to mentally beat some sense into him and Eddie was the only one he could think of to do it with no remorse.

With a noticeable gulp, Steve felt his eyes sting but didn’t dare let any tears surface. He was not throwing a pity party. “I don’t know how. She won’t even talk to me–I–every time I try–”

“That’s not my problem is it? ‘M just your boy toy, remember?”

Ouch.

Among the turmoil Steve had created, he failed to understand that Eddie could be just as affected. And what Eddie wouldn’t willingly reveal was that he was genuinely hurt. Because you were hurt. And because Steve seemed like the most oblivious idiot on the planet. Sure he had his words with you and he wasn’t proud of most of them but that was another beast. He had always been the opposing force, Steve was your right hand man the entire time. In all honesty, Eddie couldn’t care less about Steve using him for pleasure, he cared that he did it at your expense whether he bothered to know that or not the few times they met up. He knew he was just some guy so what was there to lose but Steve? Steve had a lot to lose.

“Eddie, you wanted it too.” Steve’s head shook in contemplation, longing for the right words but always finding the wrong ones.

“Yeah, well not anymore.”

Eddie’s harsh front faltered, exhausted as his shoulders slumped. Steve ran a nervous hand through his stupid big hair and for some reason it put Eddie on edge.

“Obviously.” Steve exhales, nodding before his eyes give away that he was lost in thought.

“So why are you here?”

A valid question. A question that Steve was finding he didn’t want to answer. But he had to.

“Because–because I feel like I, I owe you an apology.” He babbled at first, humiliating himself further before finding his footing and grasping the words that he knew would ground him. Even if he didn’t like it, he knew this was the start of putting the pieces back together.

“Again, you’re talking to the wrong person–” Eddie appeared worn out, head tilted back and gaze fixed to the ceiling as he let out a self soothing breath before being interrupted.

“I’m sorry for trash talking you for as long as we’ve known each other and then using you.” He never thought he’d hear such words from Steve Harrington. Which made it all that much more awkward to respond to.

“Thanks?”

Eddie expects that to be the end of it, waits for Steve to press his lips into a straight line in the silence and then stride out the large bay door without another word but he doesn’t. And he kind of wants to kick his ass as more words begin to pour from his mouth.

“I know…I know she should be the first person I apologize to, and, and I’ve tried to but she’s not my biggest fan right now.” Boo hoo. That’s the only response Eddie can conjure up so he keeps his mouth shut. “And I guess, I feel like I can’t until I fix this first because Eddie…” Steve sucks in such a large breath that Eddie feels like he may have been on the verge of passing out. But he also senses it’s because all of this is very difficult for Steve to say aloud. Within the same breath, Steve releases the rest of the words he was clutching so tightly to in his chest. “She was so head over heels for you back then and I fucking spit on your name no matter how much she talked you up. And I know you ruined things on your own but I went and fucked things up on my own and I don’t know how I could’ve done it so easily knowing, knowing how much she liked you and then how much she was hurt by you. And then I went and did what I did, it just–it doesn’t make sense, I know.”

It’s quiet again. Neither man speaking, only looking at each other in anticipation. And after several moments of distant metal clanging against metal a few bays over, Eddie finally clears his throat.

“Harrington,” He starts, eyes flashing with the most intimidating fire you’d ever see. “You’re throwing the biggest pity party I’ve ever seen and if this is how you plan to apologize to her you should just give up now.”

The sentiment was cruel but beneath it was a plea of ‘get your shit together, please’. And god, he hopes Steve picks up on it.

“Yeah…yeah.” Steve’s eyes were glazed over, the thinnest sheen of tears coating them before he blinked them back, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Eddie guesses Wayne is rubbing off on him because his next words come off more wise than cruel. An unexpected empathy resonated within him though he doesn’t fully believe it’s well deserved.

“What you need to do is just admit you messed up. No excuses. If she really matters to you, you don’t need to sit here and apologize to me and get all up in your feelings. You need to talk to her and if she doesn’t wanna listen…” He sighs, a sort of calm overtaking him. “Well, respect it.”

Steve seemed to ponder, the advice overwhelming him but still penetrating through his thick skull.

–

Steve👸: Hey

Steve👸: Can we talk?

Sox🧦 : No

Steve👸 : Five minutes. And then you’ll never have to hear from me again. Promise.

“Who are you texting?” Will leaned over to view your phone screen, ever the nosy boy. Quickly clicking the off button, you refrain from sharing any messy details of what happened between you and Steve. Sure he’d seen the initial smack down in the parking lot which you regret but he didn’t need to know anything more. Hell, he didn’t even know that Robin was out of your circle.

“No one, I was just checking something for one of my assignments.”

“Liar.” What you always forgot was how much of a bloodhound he was. Could sniff out anything that smells slightly off. It always caught you off guard although it only made you look like a fool since he did it time and time again. Throwing a surprise party for his sixteenth birthday was impossible with the way he was such a detective.

“Nuh uh!” You defended, placing your phone face down on the flour coated counter of the Byers kitchen, an egg taking its place in your hand as you cracked it against the off-white ceramic bowl.

“Yuh huh! Give me that–”

“Knock it off!” Waving Will off, you threaten in a simple gesture to let the slimy egg white and yolk ruin his newest Hellfire shirt, a special edition design created just by him. It was quite impressive actually, dragons symmetric on the front, breathing fire onto the logo overlaid with a skull and crossbones.

With a scoff, Will surrenders with his hands thrown up and eyes wide, amusement prominent across his face. “It’s Steve, I already saw it. So what are you trying to hide from me this time?”

“What–I’m not trying to hide anything.” You were just further certifying yourself as a liar, but you felt this one time it was for good reason.

“Then why can’t I see it?”

An intense stare burned into the side of your face as you attempted to resume your unfinished baking, barely even started but the kitchen showcased several dirty bowls, some housed in the sink piled high in soapy water while others were scattered across the laminate. Brownie batter, cookie dough, cake mix, the works. It would appear as if you were preparing for a bake sale if anyone were to walk in. But was just a Friday night turned into a full fledged baking frenzy on a whim. Which was much needed after a particularly stressful shift at The Under-Ground, it had been busier than most days, mostly because fall activities began to ensue. Hawkins’ famous hayride had started up for the season and dropped off several families in the square who only trickled into the shop for hot drinks and buttery yet sweet pastries. Screaming children were not something you were anticipating hearing all night but it made you appreciate the calm of closing up after, only the sounds of you dropping change into the register mixed with Eddie humming under his breath as he swept up graced your tired ears.

“Just leave it alone. Please?” An eggshell is tossed into the makeshift scraps bowl you’d set aside nearby, a bit too aggressively for comfort. A telltale sign that Will should not leave it alone.

“I’m not a baby. You don’t need to protect me from all the ugly shit that happens.” He was seventeen, still a baby to you. But the irritation was apparent in the way that he grabbed the bowl of brownie batter from the counter, glaring at it like it owed him money, however you knew the glare was meant for you. “I wanna be there for you like you’re there for me.”

Fuck. That just about ripped your heart in two. He was such a sweet kid, always wanting to do right by those he cared about. You bounced the idea back and forth, should you enlighten him or continue shielding him? Your decision was made for you when the words tumbled from your lips, your subconscious declaring that Will could forever be the baby of the group but he was growing up regardless and you couldn’t hold him to that standard for eternity. He would eventually have to face uncomfortable situations and hiding them from him completely might do more harm than good, he deserved to be in the know and to feel like an equal rather than some naive child.

“Okay. Um–yeah, it’s uh, it’s Steve…”

“And…?”

“He just wants to talk.”

Your wooden spoon scraped against the bowl, combining the dry and wet ingredients together, your concentration never leaving the forming batter. Red velvet. Will set down the brownie batter he had been inspecting, reaching for a glass dish and proceeding to butter it up generously, the oven already preheated behind him.

“You haven’t talked to him since…” He cocks a curious brow at you, momentarily looking up at you from his current task.

“No. No, I don’t even wanna see him.” Your admission is quiet, almost ashamed. “But, um, let’s just, let’s just finish this up.” The attempt to change the subject fails, the boy dropping his head down to catch your averted eyes.

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No.” You tread carefully, ever so cautious of the fact that Will had the ability to catch the slightest hesitation in your tone.

“Really? Cause I smell bullshit.” Such a damn bloodhound.

“Why would I want to talk to him? Didn’t you see what happened?” Though it was a fair point, you knew you were being avoidant and that it wouldn’t necessarily help anything, only prolong the pain and the awkwardness that would come with finally speaking to him. It had been weeks which would already create a nasty film between the two of you, something grimy and difficult to just scrub away.

Will offers a sympathetic sigh, and unspoken ‘I know you’re hurting but isolating yourself is only going to hurt more’ and you’re fully aware that he knows that feeling all too well. “I did see and it was really bad. But you’re not even gonna hear what he has to say about it?” His gentle approach was appreciated though it was just the way you talked to each other about these things. No judgment, only the right questions.

“Will, you have no idea of some of the other things that happened years ago that make this so much worse than it already is.” You’d regret how whiny you sounded except he’d seen you at your most vulnerable before so it was nothing he hadn’t experienced before.

“Okay, then what do I not know?” The gooey chocolate batter is poured into the glass dish he had prepared, resembling how your feelings were about to ooze right out of your very being.

“I’m not getting into all that now.”

“No, you don’t get to do that!” He doesn’t sound unkind but not the friendliest either, slamming the now empty bowl on the counter. You had it coming, you suppose. “You’re visibly stressed out, even worse lately, I’m one of the only ones that notices and I’m not even allowed to know the full story?”

“Will.”

There’s no saying no to his expression, blue eyes blinking at you and brows raised in anticipation. There’s no trace of judgment, just curiosity and worry. And just as you’re about to dive in head first and reveal all that you tried to withhold, the ring of the doorbell shuts you up just as fast.

The digital numbers on the stove read 10:46 PM, an ungodly hour for anyone to be ringing someone’s doorbell which is why you and Will share the same puzzled look, eyes shifting from each other toward the front door just off the kitchen. Will doesn’t necessarily live in the most populated area so there’s reason to be concerned over a visitor at such late hours.

“You get it.” Will rushes out. “Nose goes!” A speedy finger touches the tip of his nose, your cheeks flushing in irritation as the doorbell chimes once more. “Go!” He whisper yells, gently pushing you toward the door. A scowl remains on your face as you take your time. Will would do anything for you. Except sacrifice himself to the serial killer knocking at his own front door apparently. You’d never cursed a door so harshly for not having a peephole.

Deep down, you knew it’d more than likely be someone like Jonathan. It was the logical explanation, he’d lost his key and since he didn’t live here anymore, now residing in an apartment closer to downtown with Nancy, he didn’t have the urgency to replace it. But Jonathan would usually be pounding on the door, announcing that it was him. Could it be Joyce? Doubtful. She always knew where everything was and keys were the most important out of everything you’d come to learn after she scolded Jonathan for not replacing his old key to the house just in case of an emergency. Maybe it was Lucas? He never screamed or announced his presence when showing up. Couldn’t be Dustin or Mike, they were too rowdy and would never wait this long before jiggling the handle and yelling that they knew Will was home and to ‘answer the damn door’. It could be El? But never Max. Max had a distinct knock, firm and heavy, no bullshit, never rang the doorbell. The build up was only making you more anxious by the second as you’d reached for the doorknob. You’d probably be the first one dead in a horror movie, you had no idea why you let Will force you to answer his door. Regardless, you ever so slightly twisted the knob and the door creaked open, only a sliver of the outside visible as you tried your best to peek around the crack. And before you could even begin to make out any figure awaiting entry on the porch, a large hand splayed across the wood and pushed it effortlessly, sending you stumbling back as the wind knocked out of you.

“Okay, Byers. Where’s my dice? And my game controller?”

Eddie.

He’d side stepped through the door, forcing his way in obviously only expecting Will but still not realizing you stood before him as he glanced around the house.

“C’mon you knew I’d be stopping by after work, little Byers. I’ve been looking for that controller for fucking weeks–”

You could pinpoint the moment realization hit him that he was mouthing off to you and not Will. His eyes seemed to almost soften. Pupils dilating so suddenly. And then he was speechless, mouth opening and closing but words never spilling out. Then it hit you that you probably looked ridiculous in the Mickey Mouse apron you had been strutting around in, various types of batter smeared on your cheeks and chin, maybe some on your nose too but you couldn’t remember. And god, you were wearing your fuzzy pajama pants littered with pumpkins and bats finished off with some fuzzy socks that were striped like candy corn.

Eddie had never wanted to fall to his knees for someone so badly in his life.

He’d never seen you like this before.

Tacky.

In the most adorable way.

“I–um, I was looking for–”

“Will?” You finish for him, desperately trying to pull our eyes away from him but finding it impossible. And then you realized what he was wearing which only spurred on your need to drink him in. A black Metallica shirt cropped just above his happy trail, sleeves cut off to display his tattooed arms and black sweats that hung just right on his hips complete with a pair of black converse on his feet. For a second you wondered how he wasn’t shivering. You could only hope that he wouldn’t notice your drooling, praying that the dim lighting would cast enough shadows over your face that any fondness you were displaying would be hidden.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows, fingers tangling in a few of his curls before resting back at his side, keys dangling in his other hand.

“Kitchen.” You mumble, pointing.

He nods, the silence taunting you both as you trail behind him into the kitchen. Will is already staring wide eyed as you enter, looking between you with something amusing behind his expression. And in that moment the awkwardness melts off of Eddie, his usual cocky self returning.

“Dice? Controller? Man, I told you I was gonna come by–”

“I forgot but I have both–”

“Oh, you forgot?” A mischievous grin overtakes Eddie’s face, Will playing along with it as they both brace their palms flat against the kitchen island, staring at each other instantly but with playful intention.

“Ed, don’t do this.” Will warns, unable to maintain a serious face, corners of his lips pulling despite his best efforts.

“Oh, I have to.”

Eddie fakes him out, body about to move to the right but instead quickly changing to the left to which Will screeches in mock fear, rushing to the other end of the kitchen. Any time Will goes to make a move, Eddie is seconds quicker than him. When Will tries to make his big escape he’s instantly caught in a chokehold, the metalhead’s arm secured around him as he ruffles his hair with a fist, the classic noogie. Will’s laughter is contagious, a few ‘stops’ littered throughout and you can’t help but join and giggle as you watch the scene play out before you.

“Dice?” Eddie halts his movements to ask, side eyeing the boy.

“On the desk–in–in my room.” He answers out of breath, clutching onto Eddie’s forearm.

Eddie continues his torture on Will, rough housing a little more before stopping once again.

“Controller?”

“Coffee table! Are we done?!”

“Nope.” A full on wrestling match takes place in the small confines of the kitchen, both boys stumbling around and bumping into cabinets.

It was weird. You knew Eddie and Will were pretty close but you’d never seen them like this and maybe it's because you refused to linger in a room long enough if Eddie was there. Now you didn’t really have the urge to leave. All you could do was watch. Eddie’s dramatics flared as he cackled in Will’s face, Will telling him to ‘shut the fuck up’ between gasps for air.

“Tap out.” Eddie demands.

“No!”

“Tap. Out.”

At some point you hadn’t even paid attention to the way Will hesitated in surrendering, you were too caught up in the way Eddie’s already cropped shirt rode up in the position he was in, his waist looking all too enticing, lower back on full display however you refrained from trailing your eyes up his spine.

Stop it.

“Okay, I tap out!” Will smacks his hand against Eddie’s forearm that was secured around him, instantly granted relief after saying the magic words.

“Eddie The Banished reigns supreme.” He pumps his fist in the air in triumph, face scrunched in victory.

You roll your eyes but in all honesty, it’s not out of pure annoyance just this once. It feels more like when a friend does something stupid and all you can feel is warmth flush through your body and your initial reaction comes naturally. Effortlessly.

“Okay, now get your precious things and go.” Will points at the door, sass overtaking every movement, the playful energy still buzzing between them.

A pang in your heart says don’t go. But you remain quiet as a mouse in the corner between the sink and the microwave. You don’t mean that. You try to bargain with yourself. Seeing him in this light does not excuse his past no matter how much of an ache you feel in your chest. The good kind.

“Okay, okay.” Eddie sighs, catching his breath, a grin still stretched across his face. “Hey, what the fuck happened here?” He stops in his tracks, gesturing to the atrocity that has become every surface of the kitchen. Batter and dough of all kinds smeared along the countertops, eggshells discarded along with balled up foil on Will’s side of the mess, and of course the towering bowls just about ready to tumble out of the sink, filled with suds, wooden spoons and whisks. And of course the bag of chocolate chips that had spilled, sprinkled across the surface, some even dismissed on the floor, there was even some kind of dough caked onto the handle of the fridge.

“We’re having a bake sale.” You break your prolonged silence from the corner, mouth upturned in almost a smirk but not quite, it’s more like you’re holding in a laugh. At the sound of your voice, Eddie’s head snaps in your direction, molten chocolate eyes landing on you in such a way that has your breath hitching.

“A bake sale?” He questions, doubt written across his handsome features, his tone hinting at the fact that he knows you’re bullshitting him.

“Mhm.”

“Aren’t you like–aren’t you bad at baking?”

How does he know that?

Will’s eyes widen and he sucks in the most subtle breath. That’s how.

“Can’t I be bad at something but also still try?” You argue.

“I dunno, can you?” It’s almost mean, almost. But it doesn’t feel the same as when he’s usually ridiculing you. The dimple peeking out at you provides evidence of an opposite intention. He’s teasing but not to be a dick, unless you were reading him wrong. And there was very little chance that you were since the past few weeks at work, he had almost left you alone all together save for a few questions here and there and maybe a few bad jokes. But other than that he was solely a coworker who you held no personal ties to.

“Well that’s how you learn. You keep trying until you get it. So far nothing has burned and the batter tastes good–try it.” You don’t know what you’re trying to prove but your body had already been on autopilot, it’s sole mission to keep him from leaving. A wooden spoon coated in red velvet cake batter is offered to him, you twirling it to keep it from dripping everywhere. Eddie glances from you to the spoon a few times rather quickly, almost as if he’s waiting for you to psych him out and tell him to go to hell. In a way he wishes you would just so he knows he isn’t dreaming. He makes his way around the island, standing next to you, not too close but just close enough that he can steal the spoon from you, his tongue licking up the back of it. The sight is strangely erotic.

“Not bad.” He hums, continuing until the spoon is halfway clean. You want to mention that he’ll risk getting sick from eating too much, raw eggs aren’t exactly ideal to eat even if disguised as a delicious batter, but that would show that you care. Which you don’t.

“What am I missing?” Will addresses the elephant in the room, containing a smile that might be too big for his face if he were to let it take over.

“What?” You ask, head tilted in a way that has Eddie’s eyes lingering for a moment before turning his head and copying your actions, tongue still committed to the spoon, licking up every ounce of sweetness.

“Are we–did we–end up in a parallel universe? Why aren’t you threatening to kick his ass?” He points an accusatory finger at you. “And why aren’t you making snarky comments?” He points to Eddie who is still too busy licking any remnants of the mixture.

All you can offer is a casual shrug before snatching the utensil right from Eddie’s hand, tossing it into the overflowing sink. “I’ll kick your ass if you were even going to think about double dipping that spoon in my bowl.” You warn, a touch mean. “There, are you happy?” You look to Will for approval, skepticism still painted all over his face, his arms crossed in uncertainty.

“I wasn’t done.” Eddie frowns, ignoring your threat to instead dip a daring finger into the bowl of artificial red.

“Hey!” Both you and Will begin to reprimand him.

“Just one more–” He doesn’t finish his thought as you grab the bowl, holding it behind your back.

“Say I’m good at baking. Both of you.”

Eddie and Will look to each other in perplexity. Will can’t comprehend the sudden playfulness you have for both him and Eddie. Usually this would end up in an argument, one saying something a bit too offensive for the other’s taste and from there it would spiral. Instead neither party is engaged in conflict but rather play and it’s not unwelcome, just…weird.

“Excuse you?” Eddie takes the bait.

“The two of you seem to talk trash about my baking skills behind my back but I didn’t see you complaining two seconds ago while you salivated all over the spoon.”

You only receive a scoff in response, Eddie crossing his arms as if to appear more intimidating. He only looks more like a misunderstood teddy bear.

“Say it.”

“Anyone can make cake out of a box.” He retaliates, Will releasing a small gasp as he hides his smile under his hand.

“Oh, okay. I’d love to see you out of all people bake a cake.” You challenge him.

“This is more like it.” Will mumbles, though he knows this is not at all the usual bickering that happens between you.

“Oh, you want me to out-Betty Crocker you?” Eddie threatens.

“You can try.” You shrug, setting your bowl back onto the counter.

“No, no. I will.”

“Guys it’s literally cake from a box.” Will intervenes.

And so started the greatest bake off the Byers’ kitchen has ever seen.

–

“Okay, wait. I have a grievance with this competition.” Eddie speaks up, abandoning an uncracked egg on the countertop only for it to roll off and crack at his feet. “Damn.”

“What’s the matter now?” Will asks in mock annoyance. Every other minute Eddie had a near microscopic complaint but it only entertained you. Curses at wrong measurements, that his bowl wasn’t as pretty as the others, or that he wanted the whisk Will was using.

“Why don’t I get matching pants?”

You glance down at your Halloween themed pajama pants and then to Will’s. They were a steal at Target and you couldn’t resist, knowing Will would love them as much as you did. That, and every year you bought a matching pair for both fall and christmas. You can’t help but feel a huge smile pull at your lips, the sight of Eddie pouting with his hands on his hips is all too endearing.

“For one, you weren’t even invited to this sleepover.” You sass, pouring your newly mixed chocolate cake batter into its pan. “And two, this is our thing.” You gesture between you and Will standing a few feet next to you, Eddie directly across the island sporting an even bigger frown.

“Yeah, you kinda crashed our party.” Will adds, snickering with you.

“Wow. I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that and instead you pledged your undying loyalty to me.” Always a drama queen. “Whoa–wait, wait! How are you already done I haven’t even–” He quickly realizes you’re already setting your masterpiece in the oven while his bowl still contains both dry and wet ingredients, unmixed.

“Guess we can already tell who’s gonna ‘out-Betty Crocker’ who.” You smirk.

“Oh, hell no.” He mutters under his breath, suddenly focused on mixing.

While Eddie just about buries his head in the bowl, Will graces you with a look. A knowing look. You claim innocence with a lift of your brow but you both know. You’re just too ignorant right now to acknowledge it.

–

Seeing Eddie Munson dancing and screaming to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift was something you could never even fathom and yet here he was. Unapologetically singing every word and putting on one giant show with Will, singing into random kitchen utensils while the speaker blared the song. He knew every word. You didn’t dare interrupt the choreography they had come up with on the spot, watching from your comfortable perch on the stool at the counter.

Will sounded like a dying animal and it occasionally had you reaching up to cover your ears but your smile never faltered. And Eddie was unstoppable. He didn’t sound that bad though he was shouting along with Will at the top of his lungs so you figure if he actually tried he would sound angelic. Once the song reaches the bridge you can’t help but drown in your own laughter, both of them strutting in between where the living room meets the kitchen as if it were their own personal runway.

Your eyes open, nearly crying only to find Eddie just feet away extending his ‘microphone’ to you with a raised brow and a cocky grin. Your immediate reaction is to shake your head, your nerves instantly on edge at the mere idea of holding any kind of attention.

“C’mon, you’re gonna miss the bridge again!” Eddie waves you over in a rush. You don’t budge, a flash of worry washing over you and it seems that it was written all over your face. “C’mon Roadkill, don’t make us finish off without ya.” He half jokes, Will still screeching like a banshee behind him. “Do it for little Byers.” He cocks his head toward the boy, pleading eyes begging you to change your mind.

Slowly, you emerge from your comfy perch, snatching up your own ‘microphone’ with a bashful gleam in your eyes. Just in time for the bridge again, you strut toward Will who excitedly starts jumping and nodding at your participation.

“I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you!” You yell in each other’s faces, wheezing as you continue dancing–if you could even call it dancing. Your confidence skyrocketed. Turning toward Eddie, you sing to each other the last line of the bridge.

“And I screamed for whatever it’s worth, I love you ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard!”

Chests heaving and mouths hung open, his eyes swallow you whole, dark honey slowly pulling you under. Your first instinct is that you should run but he feels too much like home to ever willingly leave. If it’s so wrong, why does it feel so right to stare into pools of deep amber?

~end~

Author's Note: okay if you're reading this TY SO MUCH. The scene where reader is kinda admiring eddie at work, i had 1 step forward 3 steps back by olivia rodrigo playing along with it for me and rather than something super sad, it's kind of the opposite in this case as theyre coming out of their angsty era so if you just listen to that and imagine her admiring him with a little content smile on his face as he works it makes me want to SCREAM lmk if it does the same for you ok BYE <3

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tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi @batkin028 @obscureenigmatic @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj @hideoutside @hellfirefiend @emilyslutface @rustboxstarr @3rd-conchord @eddiessteady @lightcommastix @kittydeadbones @shadows-echoes @str4ngerthingsslut @winchester-angel @elegantkoalapaper

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson series #stranger things fic #st fic

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ccuunnttbbooyyss · 1 year

Text

(Morph by @andrewmpreg)

Robert dragged his gaze up the mirrored reflection of his body and back down again, studying his body. He looked completely normal- save for the jutting belly now pushing against the buttons of his tailored shirt, the fabric stretched wide over his baby bump.

"Shit." He commented, having woken up that morning with his womb already filled to bursting- the star having taken the cuntification procedure in order to bulk up for his latest role. Any sort of growth would have been expected... any growth but this. "This isn't good."

Robert considered getting a different suit from his wardrobe, but struck that idea as soon as it began to manifest. No suit would be able to hide the bump that had swollen up overnight and he owned no clothing that would cover him up but not make him look far too overdressed for a simple awards show.

He placed both hands around his fecund belly, fingers splayed out. Warmth emanated from it, grounding Robert with the truth that he was carrying now- and obviously.

A noise came from behind him, and as he turned a slight gasp of surprise. Robert's eyes dragged up and down the still nude from of Taylor Lautner- the former co-star now turned lover's eyes zeroing in on Robert's stomach.

"Woah, uh..." He began, eyes falling once Robert's gaze caught his own. 'Was... was that there when we...?" He asked, Robert shaking his head.

"Nope. Happened overnight." He said curtly and eyeing the still naked Taylor's swinging cock suspiciously. "You got enhanced right?"

Taylor nodded as he stepped inside the walk-in wardrobe, stepping up behind Robert and looking at him in the full length mirror before them. He placed his hands over Robert's, the pale man flinching before relaxing and letting the other man feel over his belly.

"Yeah. I know the Doctor said that things could happen fast but... Damn Rob do you think I- we did this?" He asked, eyes still wide.

"Who else do you think?" Robert said, rolling his as the tan-skinned man dipped his fingers low as if to heft up his stomach. "Not like I've been- ngggh! ... screwing with anyone else." He spoke, a sudden surge like a [pressure forming on his chest.

Taylor noticed.

"Something wrong?" He asked, still rubbing his hands over the baby bump. Robert swatted them away as another wave rolled over him- pecs suddenly looking more pronounced in his shirt.

"My- my chest. It's-!" He began before moaning as his pectorals pushed against the fabric of his shirt.

Grabbing his shoulders, Taylor pulled the man down to a small stool in the centre of the room, taking off Robert's expensive suit jacket with eagerness not befit for the expensive fabric and doing the same with the shirt underneath.

"Holy shit!" He said, Robert's normally flat chest having pushed out into two ample pecs and nipples pink and engorged. "Fuck Rob your tits are so FAT!" He said, hands immediately moving to squeeze and grope his lover's quickly fattening breasts. Even Robert's own hands coming up to join Taylor's as his pecs jiggled and bounced until they more resembled a milk-filled pair of breasts than pecs.

"Ffffuuuuuuuucccckkkkkkk~!" Robert moaned, Taylor's insistent hands encouraging more growth, more milk production, and likewise Taylor's hardened cock leaking against his bump showed he was all too eager to continue.

"Fuck you're so hot like this." Taylor growled out, "If this is what happens every time we fuck I'm gonna put another baby in you. Lots of babies."

Robert panted as his face grew redder, pecs now burgeoning towards full and soft breasts as Taylor took both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and pulled- the elasticity of the engorged teats making arcs of lightning fly up Robert's spine.

"T-Tay-Taylor if you keep going I'll-" Robert said, voice airy as his pussy quivered in his expensive slacks, soaking wet from the pair's ministrations. "NnnnNGGGHHHH FUUUUCK!"

Robert cried out as he came, soiling the ottoman beneath them as his juices gushed from his pussy. Twin jets of milk squirted out of his tits all over Taylor's hands, the man ducking down to take one of Robert's nipples into his mouth and suck out the rest of the sweet milk.

Taylor popped off as Robert's orgasm began to subside, though he was far from over. He pushed his lover back into the seat and tore off his pants and underwear- exposing the smooth pink cunt to the world.

Taylor lined up his cock, head beet red and oozing out a thick drip of precum onto the material of the ottoman.

"I don't think you're gonna make the award show." He said, pushing inside and beginning a long day of lovemaking.

#mpreg #mpreg story #mpreg morph #mpreg kink #mpreg belly #mpregnancy #gay story #lactation kink #male lactation #mpreg tf #Robert Pattinson Mpreg #Taylor Lautner Mpreg

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yjwhatif · 1 year

Text

Okay, so this is probably gonna be 💩 and definitely out of character but it’s an idea that popped into my head that I wanted to try write… I have no idea how it reads - I’ve never tried doing a fic before - so this may well be my first and the last attempt 🤷‍♀️ but, I thought it’s New Year’s Eve and it’s something to add to the list of things I never expected to do this year…

Also, I’m gonna try to get another post out before, but I know what I’m like and if I don’t, I just wanna wish everyone a happy new year and thank anyone who’s spared any time/energy into supporting this blog - whether that’s reading, liking, sending comments, anything - I love and appreciate it all so much! So thank you and here’s the fic (which is yet to be named, it’s set post Phantoms and I don’t know what you’d class it as… angst? Let’s just say it’s not fluff - in case you wanted a heads up…) LB

Here goes…

Star city. 11:23 pm. It had been raining for hours. That loud heavy kind of rain that could be heard over even the highest of volumes. Literally the only thing hearable was the rain and it showed no sign of stopping soon. There was no ignoring it. No avoiding it. Even for the most focused of minds. Rain one. Grading nill. She may have been formidable in a fight but Artemis knew when she’d been bested in battle…

“Fine, fine - you win - I will go to bed.”

She said to the air.

“Come on Brucley, let’s… go?”

Brucley had gone to bed hours ago. All who lived there were long since asleep there and it was nature's desire for the final resident to seek her slumber too…

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Though it seemed someone else had a differing desire…

“Bart?”

There at the door, the boy stood soaking. Drips dropping and hair sopping. Drenched all the way through to his skin. Had he walked there? It was hardly the appropriate time or setting for a leisurely stroll across the country. Though it was a trip he had been making more and more within the recent weeks. But never as late as this…

“Can I stay on your couch for a bit?”

And never overnight. The answer she had was obvious. But his need for such an arrangement was a cause for concern…

“…Come on, I'll get you a towel.”

And coffee… this was definitely going to require coffee.

11:45pm. The scene was set… It was silent… for what must have been the first time that night in fact. Or that was how it seemed at least. In reality, it wasn't truly silent of course. The rain still drowned the streets outside. But even that had hushed its hammering as if waiting to hear how the play would proceed. It wasn’t the only one. At the table sat the pair. One drinking coffee. The other cocoa. One sat watching. The other avoiding. Both waiting for the other to make the first move. Instead, there was silence. Solid and sharp. The only thing to cut through it was the click of Artemis’s fingernails tapping rhythmically upon the tabletop. It was something to listen to but it was hardly a melodic beat. It was the ticking of a clock. The falling of the sands. It was a waiting beat which promised it would not wait forever. And forever it did not.

“So… what happened?”

”Same thing that keeps happening…”

His mood was grim. Grumbling the words instead of speaking them. The tides within him swelled at their topmost heights. The dam was full. The floodgates had remained holding (for now) but the trickles were seeping through. It wouldn’t take much for the seal to crack and release the spill.

“He won’t let me do anything anymore… It’s so moded!”

“I bet…”

She played along…

“And now I’m grounded - again - for nothing!”

”Nothing, huh? Wow, I don't even think my parents were that cruel.”

It was a statement filled with implications that weren’t supposed to be liked… and liked, Bart did not. He may have been frustrated with his elder but never enough to endorse such a comparison… even if he was totally aware of the game she was playing with him…

“Okay, soo it might not have totally been nothing exactly…”

All she did was strike him a look. The look. Piercing and inescapable… even for one as fast as him…

“There's a slight chance I may have missed curfew…”

And just like that, the cascades came surging through.

“But it wasn’t my fault!”

“Of course not.”

It never was…

“It wasn't! I went to the movies with Ed and the others over in Hollywood and... you know what it's like with timezones - who has time to keep track of those?!”

“Someone with a central time curfew Bart, that's who.”

“Ugh, but it’s 9 o’clock! 9 o’clock! Who has a 9 o’clock curfew - other than like, 5-year-olds… seriously, Lian has a 9 o’clock curfew!”

“No, she doesn't.”

“Whatever... the point is, it's stupid and it totally ruined everything!”

”Oh come on Bart, I'm sure it wasn't that good a movie. You can always go see it again later.”

“What? No - I'm not talking about the movie - I don't even care about the movie! I'm talking about Ed!”

“Ed?”

“Yea, and the fact that he was there, actually sat next to me and not avoiding me like he has been for weeks…

There was more hidden beneath the depths than she’d initially realised…

“I swear, he was this close to holding my hand in there… just like before…”

“…I didn't realise you two were having problems—?”

“We're not!”

He spat back. She’d clearly hit a nerve.

“Everything's fine! There's nothing to worry about - I've got it all under control… or at least I did, until I look over and see Jay standing there in the actual theatre, staring right at me with that look that he always seems to wear these days... next thing I know, he’s practically dragging me out of there in front of everyone… have you any idea how embarrassing that was… and it was totally uncalled for!”

“I’m sure he wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Sure he was - he hates me!”

“He doesn't hate you Bart.”

“No… but he certainly won't trust me anymore…”

From under his breath, those words had come. Artemis had heard every one and with them, the silence returned to the scene. This time abrupt and without warning. She knew what she wanted to say to him. It was what she’d wanted to say for a while now. But she also knew it wasn't the best time for it to be said. The boy who sat ahead of her could seem such a source of light in even the darkest of moments. Always a clever comment to contribute. A smile to give. He really did remind her of his cousin sometimes… just a bit… in his own kind of way. And like his cousin, she also knew just how stubborn he was capable of being… when he wanted to be.

“What?“

“Well… can you really blame him for that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Bart, you snuck off into space without telling anyone and then went missing for over two weeks.”

“I came back!”

He threw the words at her like they should be sufficient in settling the matter… his first mistake.

“Yeah, wrapped in bandages.”

“… I was—“

“Fine? Sure.”

“Well, I was! So there was no need to worry—”

“That's not for you to decide Bart…”

At the point of no return, there was no more holding back. She had things to say to him and it was about time he heard them said.

“You can’t just disappear and expect no one to notice… not anymore.”

He didn’t want to hear this. That she also knew.

“Because they did, Bart, they noticed, and they weren’t fine about it… Jay wasn’t fine, Ed wasn’t fine, Jaime, your friends, your team, your family… None of us were fine.”

Everything about him screamed silently for swift release. His eyes away watching anything that wasn't her. But his ears stayed stuck. Sealed to the sounds she spouted. They refused to move. To disconnect. To let him escape… his second mistake.

“You have a lot of people here who care about you, kid… People who worry when they don’t know where you are.”

“I can take care of myself!”

It was unclear who he was trying to convince more… Artemis or himself.

“That doesn’t matter… You know the life we live in, just like the rest of us, and like the rest of us, you know the evil that exists within it, you know the sacrifices that have been made, the tragedies we’ll never be able to forget… and for all we knew, you were about to become another one of those tragedies, another hologram…”

In a haze of forgotten memory, those words repeated. They cast him back and in front of his elder, he was returned. Head to head and heart to heart. It was only them. Them and those words. Those words and his. A promise… a lie.

“…I don’t want any more holograms…”

“…Jay… I’m not going anywhere…”

He lied. The man had trusted him and he lied… that was his biggest mistake.

“Take it from a girl who got her very own hologram once upon a time… there's a cost to deceit - no matter how major the lie or vital the cause… for those left out of the loop, loss isn’t easily forgotten and trust isn’t easily fixed…”

At that, his eye returned to hers. For the first time that night, they converged completely. They were pools filling. Glazing. But hadn’t yet fallen. Never before had she seen the rain drop upon his cheeks. Even after all the storms he'd weathered. Now was no different. He was stubborn that way.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“You do the work - for as long as it takes until that trust is regained… and then, you don’t screw up by doing it again!”

It was almost laughable how fast his face dropped at that. The softness in his eye solidified into a scowl of sheer sulkishness.

“Don’t give me that look! I said you could have my couch, not my sympathy…”

But the mood didn't lift. All in his face only dropped further. He was somewhere else. Stuck on something else. Something he couldn't see.

“He’ll come around, you’ve just gotta meet him halfway.”

“I hope so…”

“He loves you Bart… and luckily, love isn't something that's easily lost… no matter how parted you feel.”

With that, her own mind wandered slightly. It was her sign to get moving. So she allowed the words to sink in as she cleared the scene of their long dried-out mugs. Leaving him to ponder whatever thoughts he had brewing within.

“…I should probably call him, tell him where I am…”

“I already did…”

Her hand planted a reassuring grip on his tensed shoulder before she continued.

“He knows you’re here…”

With that Bart was jolted back into the present. Such a reveal was unexpected. Jay had known and never forced him back home. He never called or kicked up a fuss. He was actually allowing Bart the space he wanted… Or was the man just so tired of the trouble that he was glad for the space he was getting… The quiet returned as the boy's mind flooded once again. Drowning him deep below his doubts. Beneath the regrets. The questions. The what ifs. The possibilities and probabilities. Everything except the solid solution to get him back in control again. The something which would keep him afloat before the rising tides finally pull him under.

“I’m gonna head up…”

Artemis‘s words cut their way through the fog of his contemplation.

“You know where everything is, right?”

His head nodded but his mind remained elsewhere. It was there in his eyes. They were distant. Drained. He was trying to fight something. Something he wouldn’t let her see. Something he couldn't escape. And it was pulling him under. Below the depths and into the darkness no one was allowed to witness.

“Bart… do try and get some sleep, okay? Things will still be there for you to work out tomorrow.”

There was acknowledgement in his eyes but still, no words accompanied them. It was late. Very late. It was so late even the rain had gotten tired as there remained but a drizzle upon the window panes. There was little more Artemis could do for the night. It was up to Bart to find his next step forward. Though for now, the only thing they both truly needed was sleep. Time to rest their heads and escape the thinking for a bit. But whether sleep would come was another matter entirely. With a little luck, nature would take its charge and finally pull them both into the desired solace of slumber. But for that quits must be called. She must finally make her retreat to the sheets which have long awaited her settle. And with a little hope, the lad lost in his thoughts might follow suit. Finding his relief in the couch cushions instead of a fix-all solution he yet couldn't see… but for her, that remained to be seen…

Despite the end's arrival the scene still felt unfinished. Something was missing. Yet there was nothing more to be said. Nothing more from her lips at least…

“…Hey Artemis?”

The words halted her departure.

“Thanks… y’know… for letting me use your couch.”

With that, his face cracked its first smile of the night. It wasn't one of real brightness or longevity. It was shallow and slight. But it gleamed a hint of the him she's gotten so used to seeing. Something of noticeable absence throughout the night. It was a smile which suggested she hadn't totally lost him to those dark depths of his mind. And it was a welcomed sight to end their night.

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

With her own smile, her goodnights were said. And away she went. Finally making good on the word she’d made a whirlwind ago.

“Night Brucley.”

…

#happy new year #young justice #yj #young justice phantoms #bart allen #artemis crock #jay garrick #eduardo dorado jr #my fic #yj fanfic #long post

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kudzucataclysm · 2 years

Text

Francis: What the fuck is your problem?

Desmond: Huh? I don't-

Francis: I've done nothing but treat you like SHIT. Every time...every fucking time you do something nice for me I just act like a complete asshole to you. I ignore you and at my worst I flat out insult your existence...and, what, you're still trying to be NICE?? You've let me into your HOUSE? You...you want me to stay overnight...You’re still trying.

Desmond: Um...yeah? Of course I do. You're hurt and...clearly things aren’t okay…

She scoffs.

Francis: ‘Of course’ he says. ‘Of course’. You know, that pisses me off. What the fuck is wrong with you? So fucking what if I’m hurt? You- you just FORGIVE me?

He sits and thinks, hands balled into fists in his lap. He takes a deep breath- his heartbeat steadies, and when he looks up at her face again he thinks he sees the start of tears. His heart in his chest constricts, and he reaches out a hand to place on her shoulder. She flinches away at his touch, and it just makes his chest hurt even more.

Desmond: I...yeah, I do. To be honest, I've never been really mad at you? Just, like, upset? You've been a jerk, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna leave you sleeping outside, ya know? And you’re sick too…

He's looking away awkwardly, and his next words are so quiet Francis has to strain her ears to hear them.

Desmond: We're...still partners, ya know?

Francis looks like she's entirely unable to process that. Desmond scoots a little bit closer.

Desmond: *gently* And, um, it's kinda obvious that you're sorry...so yeah, I forgive you.

Francis finally looks at him, really looks at him, and her eyes are those of a spooked animal.

Francis: *stammering* You-you fucking can't- you can't just...

She begins hyperventilating, and her hand grips her tattered shirt at her chest. She spits-

Francis: I don't deserve -

Desmond, on the verge of tears: Francis -

He touches her arm, gently, and she sucks in a breath. She looks haunted, vulnerable, and in pain. Desmond slides his hand further up her arm and she seems to buckle under her own weight, and he grabs her, pulling her into a hug.

Desmond: I'm sorry she hurt you.

He felt her body tremble, and then wrack with silent sobs. He squeezes tighter, running a hand up and down her back, ignoring the bloody tears soaking his shirt.

Desmond: *whispering* Hey hey, it's okay...

A miserable sound escaped Francis' throat. He lets himself cry too, for her.

Desmond: I got you, okay? It’s okay.

She shudders, and sinks fully into his shoulder. They sit like that for a while, Francis’ anxious breathing slowly evening out. She barely moves, and for a moment Desmond thinks she’s fallen asleep. But a singular grunt is heard from her, and she slowly pulls out of their embrace. She looks so tired, and scared, and on impulse Desmond reaches for her hand. She doesn’t jerk away this time, and Desmond is filled with hope as he holds it gently. Francis looks unsure, and uneasy, but lets him do his thing.

He starts to rub his thumb soothingly on the back of her hand and that’s when she snatches her hand away- his touch burned, and made her skin feel like it was crawling with ants. She takes a couple of breaths to calm herself down again; she wanted to like his touch. She craved it even, but…

Who knows how long he’ll stick around.

Francis: Anyway…

Desmond: Oh uh- yeah. Yeah. Sorry.

He goes back to fiddling with his hands looking a bit dejected and she feels just the slightest bit guilty.

Francis: I um- I know you said everything was cool and all, but…

Desmond looks up at her, surprised.

Desmond: You don’t -

Francis: Shut- I-I mean…I’m- I’m sorry. For treating you like shit…

She trails off, scratching the back of her neck and not making eye contact. She’s never apologized before, and it shows.

Francis: You- you really are, um. Smart, and really cool, and stuff…

Desmond BLANCHES. He opens his mouth once, twice, like a fish and Francis thinks he isn’t breathing.

Francis: What? What’s -

Desmond: *blurting* YOU THINK I’M COOL?!

Francis pauses, and processes, realizing what she just said. She sighs and runs a hand down her face. She glances at him, away, then back again. Fuck.

Francis: I mean…yeah. Duh.

Desmond: What?!!!?

He’s being loud, and she flinches at the volume of his voice.

Francis: Why would I say it if I don’t mean it, dumbass?

Desmond starts vibrating, and Francis is concerned until he jumps up and throws his fists into the air, triumphant-

Desmond: FRANCIS MUELLER THINKS I’M COOL!

Francis: *panicking, trying to pull him back down to the floor* Will you shut the hell up?! You’re gonna wake up your family, idiot!

Desmond is giggling, so excited and elated.

Desmond: Sorry sorry sorry, it’s just -

He laughs, pure and free, and Francis wants to keep it all to herself, down to the last breath. She lets herself grin, just a bit. He sits down next to her again, and he’s beaming, and Francis wants to hold this moment in time here, now, until….

Desmond, still giggling: Hey, I know how you can make it up to me.

Francis, internally: Anything. Anything you ask.

Francis, aloud: Sure, just don’t ask me to take your shift at work or some shit like that.

He snorts.

Desmond: Nah, nothing like that.

Hesitating at first, he then gently presses a finger into her chest, trying to come off as somewhat authoritative.

Desmond: Rest. Sleep here tonight.

Francis grimaces.

Francis: Dez -

Desmond: Please?

He clasps his hands together and pushes out his lower lip, pleading. Francis finds it uncomfortable.

Francis: What the fuck are you doing?

Desmond: …Begging?

Yeah, she didn’t like that.

Francis: If I stay will you stop?

Desmond: *all too excited* Yes!

He jumps up and moves quickly to his closet, and Francis lets out an exhausted sigh. How he managed to get so excited over practically nothing was still confusing to her.

Dez rummages through the closet for a few seconds before coming back to her with a couple of blankets and a nervous smile.

Desmond: I know you can’t get cold but- maybe it’ll be comforting? Make you feel better, I mean.

He hands her the biggest, fluffiest blanket she’s ever laid her eyes on. She tentatively takes it from him, not making eye contact.

Francis: …Thanks…

The rest goes unsaid; “for everything”.

#my writing #shattered earth

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samsspambox · 2 years

Note

hello sam is there perhaps a recipe for artems milk i’m curious since i can’t purchase it :(( have a good day!!!!

hI NONNIE!! i handshake you, bc i was just staring at my screen at the artem milk can lamenting my geographical location since i was an ocean away. i couldn't buy it either but zak could and made a review. he said first impressions were that it's strawberry milk and it later hit you with globs of sweetness, so that made me think it was strawberry preserves with strawberry milk.

there isn't any specific 'artem milk' recipes to my knowledge so i just assumed it was strawberry milk with preserves. (i looked up the wiki how article and then just ignored it) so i deadass just

put preserves into a bottle and added milk and called it a day LMAOOO

okay but here's the things i would do differently after doing it once! though most of this was eyeballed i definitely encourage you to try it out yourself!

i would scoop up the preserves in a separate bowl (maybe 2-4.5 scoops per 12 ounces of milk? it genuinely depends how you want your milk, but have enough to cover the bottom of your cup/bottle) and heat them up a bit in the microwave in intervals so it's just mildly melty and give it a couple of stirs to get some of the lumps out, but there's no need to get them all out.

anyway you put it in a bottle, shake it up a bit, and then leave overnight in the fridge or let chill in the fridge for 8-12 hours. i feel like it would be a game changer bc it's gonna soak the jam a bit and infuse it. and then when you take it out you shake it again and it should be good to go! i wouldn't recommend putting any sugar bc it's already hella sweet, but you could add sugar to taste after!

or you could make strawberry milk with a powdered mix and put some strawberry preserves/jam at the bottom of your cup/bottle too if you're impatient!

hope your artem milk endeavors go well!! you have a good day too nonnie!!! :D

#sam rambles #artem milk #cooking with sam #anon asks #nonnie asks #sam answers #tears of themis #no deadass i just put jam in a bottle and i called it a day

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out-of-control · 2 years

Text

WARMTH

words: 712

warnings: [n/a]

summary: it’s too cold for jim to keep sleeping in his car.

Jim starts awake, in a cloud of his own breath, shivering under the nest of blankets he’s curled up in on the back seat of the Tercel. “Fuck-” he hisses, scrambling to reach over the center console to turn the keys and click the engine on. He sits back and pulls the blankets back up to his chin, blinking drearily at the sun lighting up the windows, completely frosted over. It seemed like the summer was refusing to move on for so long, it feels as if the earth's core suddenly burnt out overnight.

Waiting for the car to warm up, he steps out and opens the trunk, fishing for some warmer clothes. He pulls his head through a grey hoodie and gets greeted on the other side by the skyline over the river. It must hardly be sunrise, he thinks, with the air still holding onto that soft tint of dawn. He huffs as he gets his jacket on, and it hangs in front of him before dissipating. He takes his bass out, shuts the trunk, and puts it in the back seat instead. It’s not good for her to be in the cold. He wraps himself up in a blanket for good measure before moving up to the driver’s seat, soaking up the lukewarm air coming out of the vents as the engine heats up. He waits for his hands to stop trembling before he unhooks his sunglasses from the overhead visor and slides them onto his face.

—

Jim stacks the two coffee cups and presses the buzzer, holding it until the door clicks, like an asshole. He makes his way upstairs, pushes through the door left ajar for him. “Is this fucked or what,” he says, and then pauses when he see’s Jax sitting on the couch, shrouded with a thick blanket.

“So good news and bad news. The space heater broke,” he elaborates, giving Jim a look. “And the insulation’s shit.”

Jim hands Jax one of the cups- black, no sugar- and raises an eyebrow. “Are you gonna tell me the good news is that we have to cuddle for warmth, then?” Jim says, and Jax chokes on a sip.

“Nevermind,” Jax coughs out, wrapping his hands around the warm cup and holding it close. “It’s all just news.” Jim snorts and sits down next to him. “Seriously, though, I’m impressed you didn’t freeze solid last night. Your body heat is fucked.”

Jim just shrugs. “I woke up fucking shivering, but. I’m resilient.”

Jax looks him over for a second, internally debating something. “Christ, ok just-” he gets up and rifles through one of the kitchen drawers, blanket still draped over his shoulders. He shuffles back over and holds out two keys to Jim, visibly trying to be cool and casual about this. “Just in case I’m like, not home or asleep or something and you need somewhere a little bit warmer to go, or whatever. You’re gonna freeze out there.”

Now Jim chokes on his coffee, shaking his head. “Dude, no- I can’t-”

“-Just as a backup. Y’know,” he adds quickly, desperately trying to make this less weird. “In case I lose mine and I get locked out or something. I can call you. Just- take them. Please.” Jim hesitantly lets Jax drop them into his palm, holding them there, also visibly trying to be normal about this. He’s a few inches from running out the door, fighting off an agonized expression.

“Are you sure?” he says slowly.

“I’m sure if you let me steal your fucking body heat right the fuck now,” Jax blurts.

“Oh what a burden,” Jim sighs dramatically, tucking the keys in his jacket pocket and trying to move past the fact he’s just been presented with probably the nicest gesture he’s received in years. His hand lingers pressed against their new spot over his heart before he stands. He takes Jax by the shoulders, and gently moves him towards the bedroom. “I bet there’s so many movie references that I won’t get that you could make about this right now.”

“You have no idea.” Jax grins, turning the handle when his back hits the door.

—

Jax gets the space heater working again eventually, but he still says body heat is more effective.

—

#words

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turtle-babe83 · 2 years

Note

hey girl can you do a oneshot for raph about how you call him and he says that he had a shitty day so you decide to surprise him in red lingerie? thank you :)

Cheering up the big guy in his favorite color? Yessssss, let’s get it! 🙌🏼

Warning: Language and NSFW 18+ only

What a day. Not bad, just crazy busy. You were already calling your boyfriend as you hailed a cab for the ride home. Raph answered as you gave the driver your apartment address.

“Hey.”

Uh oh, one word, grunted. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Hey baby, how has your day been?”

He growled, “It’s been a load of shit. Dad left for some meditation retreat thing an’ Leo thinks he’s the boss. Punk keeps telling me what ta do.”

You remembered Splinter talking about his trip. It wasn’t like he was going far and it was only a few days. But you knew Leo was probably trying to make everything perfect for their sensei’s return.

“I’m sorry to he-“

“And then Donnie blows somethin’ up in his lab so the place is a fuckin’ mess an’ smells awful too.”

“I see. Well-“

“Don’t even get me started on Mikey. I’m bout ta break his damn drum set.”

You sighed. He was angry and on a roll. You needed to get him out of the sewers for a night to de-stress, and a plan to do just that was forming.

“Raph,” you interrupted his ranting, “I want to you to come over later. Bring an overnight bag, I’m off tomorrow.”

He snorted, “Like Lieutenant Leo is gonna agree-“

You interrupted again, “Let me handle Leo.”

It was silent for a long moment. Then, “alright.”

You smiled to yourself. Once the call ended, you asked the cabbie to make a pit stop on the way home. After a little shopping, and a very pointed phone call to the leader in blue, you got ready for your overnight guest.

When Raph arrived, he came through your window to find the lights mostly off. He dropped his backpack by the couch, then noticed a glow coming from your bedroom doorway. He rolled his shoulders, popped his neck, and tried to muster up a smile for you. He stopped dead in his tracks just inside your room. The sight before him was better than anything he could have dreamed up. His stunning girlfriend sprawled on the bed, knees bent and legs spread open, as you laid back on your elbows. Red lace clung to your curves, cupping your breasts and pushing them up, crisscrossing down your torso to end in crotch less panties. The fairy lights hung up around the room reflected on your glistening folds. You looked like a gift wrapped up just for him.

“Did Christmas come early this year?” Raphael murmured, already pulling at his gear and clothes.

Your lips curled into a sultry smile, “Just wanted to cheer up my favorite guy.”

“Oh, it’s working. It’s definitely working.”

The bed creaked as he leaned across it. Grasping your calves, he suddenly yanked you down to the end of the bed, and got down on his knees. He wasted no time throwing your legs over his shoulders and shell. He kissed his way up your inner thigh, before nuzzling your clit with his snout. He breathed in deeply of your unique scent, letting his lips brush against your soaked entrance. You shivered at the delicate touch delivered by your big, brawny beast. Spreading your labia with his large thumbs, he pressed the tip of his tongue to your clit and swirled. Your hips jumped involuntarily. He huffed a hot breath across your mound, then his lengthy tongue began to lick slow and languidly. You were so used to the primal way he normally devoured you, this….sweet gentleness was melting your heart along with your body. Peering at his contented expression as he savored every drop of your essence, you couldn’t help your soft moans. You had invited him over to ease his stress and frustration, yet here he was, worshipping you.

“Raphie, love, I’m supposed to be taking care of you. Not the other way around,” you giggled.

“Ya gave yerself to me, all pretty in lace. Wearin’ my color,” his green eyes regarded you seriously, “laid out like a feast.”

He smacked his lips.

“I couldn’t ask for a betta gift.”

With that, he slid deep into your depths, tongue curling to rub against your g-spot. Talking was no longer an option as peals of pleasure sounded from your throat. Raph took his time, bringing you to the edge of the precipice, never quite letting you tip over. You found yourself begging for release, and with a wicked grin, he finally acquiesced. As you lay back, thighs still trembling, you realized this was what he needed from you. To be in charge of your pleasure, to have your acceptance and complete surrender.

Raph stood at the foot of the bed, holding your ankles up by his broad shoulders, and pushing his bobbing cock to your dripping pussy. In one push, he sunk all the way. He took a moment to savor the way your core stretched around his wide girth before starting a staccato rhythm. You had never looked more beautiful to him than you did right then, face contorted with pleasure, soft little high pitched mewls falling from your open mouth. He turned and kissed your calf as churrs rumbled from his chest, one after another. As his release approached, he pushed your legs together, pushing them towards your chest. At this angle, he could hit your g-spot again, repeatedly, while you felt even tighter around his length. The room was filled with the sounds of your lovemaking, moans and groans, skin slapping on wet skin, and those churrs-oh, how they vibrated!

Catching Raph’s stare, you managed to whimper, “I love you, Raphie, I love you so much.”

A churr so deep, it could have been a roll of thunder, rumbled from his barreled chest. You could feel the tremors from it deep within your core. As his strokes became more erratic, you pressed your head back into the mattress, cumming with his name a wail upon your lips. Raph growled at how your walls clenched rhythmically around him. It was too much stimulation for him to hold back.

He grit his teeth and spoke, punctuating his words with each hard thrust, “Don’t know..what I did..ta deserve ya….but…fffuuuuck…”

Hot jets of his seed filled you, as he strained to empty himself completely. He panted above you, letting your legs down to wrap around his hips as he leaned over you. He held himself up on his elbows, cradling your head in his hands as he stared deeply into your eyes.

“When everything seems ta be going wrong in my life, yer the one thing that’s always right,” he murmured, “I love ya more than ya know, baby.”

Minutes were spent wrapped in one another’s arms with long, languid kisses. Until Raph’s cock began to harden again. His grin this time was wholly wicked as he promised such dirty things in your ear. He had all night with you, and had every intention on making it count.

♥️

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fandom #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #raphael #raph #raph tmnt #raphael tmnt #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt raph x reader #bayverse raphael #bayverse raph #bayverse Raph x reader #bayverse Raphael x reader #turtlebabe83 #thanks for asking #tmnt smut

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taetaespeaches · 3 years

Text

“Quick question… what are you doing in the closet?”

yoongi x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 3.1K

a/n: Hi lovelies!! This fic takes place pretty early on in Yoongi and Kid/reader’s relationship. They’re very much together but Kid has yet to spend much time with Min Holly (at least alone). And basically, that’s what this fic is- Yoongi leaves Min Holly with Kid for the night and when a storm hits, Yoongi comes back to the apartment to find Kid and Min Holly being very cute. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

“Are you sure you’re good?” Your boyfriend asked you for the third time in a matter of minutes, his eyes traveling to the small dog exploring your apartment.

Widening your eyes at him, you cocked your head. “Why are you so worried, do you really not trust me with him?”

Sighing, the man held back the grin threatening to form on his lips.

“Don’t laugh right now,” you pointed warningly at him, your empty threat causing him to break, the gummy smile appearing in front of your eyes. “Yoongi,” you whined, dragging his name out as you lightly smacked his chest.

“Of course I trust you,” he chuckled, stepping forward once so he could wrap an arm around your waist, tugging you to him. Pouting at him, accompanied by a glare, Yoongi giggled. “I was just teasing you, Kid,” he admitted, pushing his lips to yours gently, you stubbornly not responding. “Min Holly is in the best hands with you.”

“Damn straight he is,” you bragged, Yoongi scoffing as he planted a kiss to your cheek.

Yoongi’s brother was on vacation, leaving Min Holly purely in Yoongi’s custody for the next week. However, the first day of his brother’s vacation just happened to be on the day of a BTS video shoot that would keep Yoongi busy well into the night. That’s where you came in; dog sitter of the year.

“What time do you think you’ll be done?” You asked, Yoongi humming in thought.

“Probably early morning. Two or three a.m., maybe later,” he told you, you gasping in mostly feigned surprise. Your relationship with the man was still rather new, but you did understand his work caused him to have some pretty late, sleepless nights.

“That’s so late, you’ll be so sleepy,” you cooed through a pout.

“I’ll be ok,” he chuckled, kissing your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment as you leaned into his touch. “Thank you for helping me out,” he whispered against your brow, his breath fanning across the top of your face. “I just feel bad leaving him alone overnight,” he smiled, your lips following suit in response to the adorable admission.

“It’s no problem, of course I’m happy to watch him,” you assured Yoongi, tilting your head back to look up at him. “You honey boy,” you teased, Yoongi letting out a breathy chuckle.

“I gotta get going, I’ll text you updates,” he assured you as he took a step back, scanning the apartment’s living room in search of the dog. “Where-” he began to ask where the dog went when Holly popped his head up from the sofa, catching both of yours and Yoongi’s gazes. “Oh sure, make yourself right at home,” he chuckled at the dog.

“He’s so cute, I’m gonna love this,” you told Yoongi, looking at him with bright eyes. “Good luck at your shoot, Min,” you began shooing him out of the apartment, Yoongi backing up as you gently shoved against his frame.

“Are you kicking me out?” He teased, his eyes wide, his face full of pretend offense.

“I have plans,” you directed a head nod toward the dog.

Chuckling in amusement at you, his shoulders shaking slightly, Yoongi turned toward the door and began walking across the room, you following just behind him. When he reached the exit, he quickly turned around, his hands finding your face instantly as he pulled your lips to his greedily. Your hands grasped at his forearms as you kissed him back with just as much fervor, humming contently into the meeting.

Pulling his face from yours, you slowly opened your eyes, watching as Yoongi’s eyes fluttered open shortly after. “Don’t miss me too much,” you teased the man playfully, that adorable gummy grin overtaking his features, his cheeks soft and kissable. Had you more time with him, you would have kissed them repeatedly until he whined for you to stop as the fluffy cheeks warmed in a pink shade. But that would have to wait for his return, as he was nearly running late.

“Bye Kid,” he said simply, you smiling as he turned to leave.

“Go be hot on camera,” you shouted out after him, a scoff meeting your ears, though those shoulders shook adorably as the door shut behind him.

Smiling at the front door, you sighed in content. Turning to face the dog who was staring at you intently, you shrugged. “I think we’re alone now,” you sing-songed to the dog, making him cock his head at you. As you made your way back across the room to the dog, excitement in your steps, you beamed at Min Holly. “Are you ready for our slumber party?” You cooed, scratching his little face as soon as you reached him. “Slumber party time?” You continued talking to the dog as he licked your nose affectionately.

You never were one to check the forecast often, so when the loud crash of thunder sounded outside, waking you from your sleep, you were as shocked as the poor little dog curled up against your side.

Lethargic, your eyes and voice still full of slumber, you reached for the dog and tugged him even closer. “Oh, Holly,” you pouted, looking outside your window to see rain streaking across it as it beat down against the pavement below. “That’s not going to be good for filming,” you mumbled aloud, thinking of your boyfriend and his fellow members.

With another loud rumble outside, the dog whimpered, scurrying off the bed in search of a place of solace. “Aw bubs,” you frowned, sitting up and crawling off the bed to collect him. However, as you approached the dog, he scampered off across the room, heading straight through the open closet door. “Do you want to hide in there?” You asked him, cocking your head at him as Holly stared at you from inside the closet. “Do you feel safe in there?” You asked him, watching as the dog slowly lowered into a laying position.

Spotting one of Yoongi’s hoodies hanging on the hook on the back of the closet door, you quickly made your way across the room and grabbed it, crouching down to situate the clothing around the small dog. “There, that should make you feel safer too,” you pouted, petting the top of Holly’s head gently. Moving your hand to scratch under his chin, however, he put the weight of his head in your palm, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Are you going to let me go back to the bed?” You asked in amusement. “Or am I going to have to join you in here?” You wondered, the dog staring at you with the most adorable sad eyes you’d ever seen. Sighing, you scooped him up in your arms before crawling on your knees to sit inside the closet. Planting yourself on your butt and leaning back against the wall, you crossed your legs before placing the hoodie over your lap, then setting Holly down atop it.

It didn’t take long for the dog to get comfortable, his head squished against your hip as he was lured back to sleep by the sound of the rain outside the apartment. And well, you must have followed him into slumber shortly after, because the next thing you knew, you were being awoken by a gentle sensation against the side of your face and a hushed whisper near your ear.

“Kid,” you heard the voice call out to you softly. Peeling your eyes open reluctantly, you squinted at the man kneeling beside you, his gummy grin being the first sight that entered your awakened consciousness.

“Honey boy,” you yawned, Yoongi chuckling softly at you. Reaching out to him, you brushed his hair off his forehead only to find that the strands were cold and wet. “Your hair is soaked,” you noted, Yoongi nodding as he smiled.

“It’s raining,” he pointed out, you frowning at him.

“That’s right,” you remembered, looking down at the dog in your lap who was awake, but unmoving as he refused to lose his comfort, and probably still too scared to leave the confines of the closet. “You need to change your clothes,” you told Yoongi. “But you can’t have your hoodie because Holly’s using it,” you pointed out, Yoongi scoffing in amusement at you.

“Well good thing your clothes are conveniently located right here,” he nodded to the clothing hanging, simultaneously shooting you an incredulous expression as he drew attention to the fact that he came to your apartment to find you sleeping in his closet, propped up against the wall.

“What’s with the face?” You asked him in response to his expression, playing with him, turning it into a game.

“What the hell are-”

“How was the shoot?” You interrupted, though nonchalantly, purposely not addressing the elephant in the room- or more like the human in the closet.

“It was good,” he nodded a few times, “you know, until the rain hit.”

Sucking air between your teeth, you frowned. “Did it ruin everything?”

“No, luckily we wrapped the outdoor scenes just as it started storming.”

“Oh that’s great, I’m glad it worked out ok,” you grinned.

“Mhmm,” he hummed with a small nod. “I’m stealing a sweatshirt,” he informed you, you instantly humming in thought.

“I’ll allow it.”

“How very generous of you,” he responded playfully, holding back a budding smile. “Hey uh, quick question.”

“What’s that?”

The man shrugged at you, a smile curving on his lips. “What are you doing in the closet?”

“Oh right,” you slowly nodded, the man chuckling at you. “You see, your dog is a bit of a wuss, but he’s cute so it’s ok,” you told him as looked down to the dog who was refusing to lift his head to face the storm.

“Were you scared of the lightning Holly?” Yoongi asked the dog as he pet the sweet frightened pup, a soft grin on his lips that made your own mouth curve into a smile.

“Yeah, he abandoned me on the bed and came in here and I was just going to give him your hoodie to lay with but then he gave me those eyes,” you pouted as Yoongi watched you relay the story in utter fondness for you. “He was torn because he wanted to be with me but also, you know, the storm,” you emphasized, Yoongi’s shoulders shaking in laughter. “So I decided, well, I’ll just sit with him for a bit.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“I don’t know, I fell asleep,” you giggled, a snort leaving the man as he shook his head at you, though adoringly.

“So you really insisted on being the cutest human alive tonight, huh?” He asked you just before directing his gaze to the dog. “Holly, what’s up bud, don’t you think you’re milking this a bit?”

With both of you looking down at the pup, you watched as Yoongi gently scratched Holly’s head. “He’s just too cute, I didn’t have the heart to leave him in here alone,” you pouted, glancing up to find your boyfriend’s gaze already directed to you.

Yoongi didn’t speak, rather, his orbs simply scanned your features, appreciating the sight. He slowly leaned toward you, his lips easily finding yours, meeting you in a sweet kiss. The meeting didn’t last long, but it was soft and felt like home.

“You’re a sweetheart, Kid,” he complimented as he separated from you, just before he stood. Suddenly the man stripped himself of his slightly wet top before turning his attention to your clothing.

Staring up at him, appreciating his bare upper body, you watched as his hands grabbed an oversized lavender-colored sweatshirt. Pulling it off the hanger quickly, he had it situated over his body within seconds. Looking down at you, he met your gaze, smirking at your engrossed expression.

“You’re pretty in lavender,” you whispered to him, a bashful grin overtaking his face.

Leaning down, he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering once again. “Alright little guy,” he suddenly addressed Holly as he pulled away from you. “You gotta let my girlfriend out of the closet,” he told the dog, patting his thighs to try to coax his dog to him, only for the dog to spite him by not even flinching toward his owner.

“Honey boy, he’s still scared,” you pouted, Yoongi’s eyes shifting from Holly to you. Thinking for a moment, he sighed, turning his back on you and heading toward the bed. You watched him carefully, following his every move as he pulled the comforter off the mattress and grabbed two pillows.

The man avoided your eye contact as he waddled back to the closet, a frown etched in his features though you knew he wasn’t actually upset by anything. It was obvious he found this whole situation quite adorable.

Appearing in front of you, he stepped over your body, as well as Min Holly, and dropped the blanket and pillows onto the floor with a thud. Next, he was pulling his jeans off his frame, tossing them onto the bedroom floor outside the closet, his eyes following them as they descended to the floor, your eyes glued to his now bare limbs. You actually couldn’t see the upper majority of his legs due to the oversized material of the sweatshirt, which made him look rather cute.

“You’re very hot,” you complimented with a smirk, the man scoffing as he picked up the comforter before nodding to the dog that was looking up at him curiously.

“Lift him so I can cover you with this,” he told you, you smirking as you pulled Holly from your lap to your chest, allowing Yoongi to tuck you in.

“You’re being really cute,” you smiled, Yoongi holding back a grin of his own as he simply hummed. “These are honey boy antics, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah, so I’m soft for you and my dog, so what,” he dismissed nonchalantly, all while your smile grew larger, your heart racing with affection for the man. When Yoongi lowered himself to take the spot next to you, he lifted a pillow, silently staring at you as he waited for you to sit up so he could put the pillow underneath your head. Fluffing it slightly, he nodded once with a small close-mouthed smile before grabbing his own pillow and doing the same thing again.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you told him sincerely as you rested back against the pillow, the cushion feeling nice and relieving on your slightly strained neck. Turns out closets aren’t really the most comfortable sleeping space.

“Thanks for taking care of my dog,” he replied with that same adorable grin, which accentuated the plushness of his cheeks. As Holly moved to lay between the both of you, you leaned toward your boyfriend, holding his face in place so you could press a series of smooches to his plush cheek. Finally.

Whining slightly at your incessant affection, Yoongi squirmed away from you, only to turn and face you and press his lips to yours in a messy and playful meeting. Laughing into the kiss, Yoongi couldn’t help but smile as well, a light chuckle leaving those pretty lips as he pulled away from you.

“Go back to sleep,” he told you, his face full of fond adoration as he settled into his spot, pulling the comforter up as his hand found the dog. Yoongi pet Holly’s face as the dog leaned into the touch. “You too,” he directed to the dog in a playful demand. “I don’t know what your end game is here, bud. Are you trying to steal my girl?” he questioned the furry pal, you giggling at you nuzzled your face against the pillow, reaching out to drape your arm overtop Yoongi’s body. “You can’t have her,” Yoongi whispered, a smile stretching across your face. “I won’t let you.”

“He’s a charmer,” you mumbled through a yawn, your sleepiness hitting you suddenly.

“So am I,” Yoongi countered, rolling onto his side so he faced you. As your eyes fluttered shut, sleep overtaking you quickly, the man watched you lovingly. “I’m hot, remember.”

“That’s true,” you agreed sleepily. “The hottest.”

Yoongi continued to watch as your body became more relaxed underneath the warmth of the comforter; the warmth of having Yoongi next to you, and of course, Min Holly. Though his own eyes were becoming heavy, he kept them open to appreciate the way your face relaxed, your lips becoming pouted as your exhales slipped between them in slowed breaths.

“Tell me one thing,” you suddenly spoke up, your voice surprising Yoongi out of his trance.

“Hm,” he hummed for you to continue, a soft smile planted on his mouth.

“Were you hot on camera?” You asked him, referring to his video shoot.

A silent chuckle left the man, his hand leaving Min Holly, and finding your own hand that rested between your bodies. Wrapping his fingers around your own, he stared at your hands connected; your skin was warm against his, Yoongi sighing contently.

“I was hot on camera,” he confirmed, a smile just barely tugging on your lips that made him chuckle lightly in response.

“That’s my honey boy,” you whispered, burying yourself further into the pillow.” There was a pause, and Yoongi was about to shut his own eyes and allow himself to be dragged into dreamland. However, you spoke once again, the man sighing as he prepared to tell you to go to sleep, but your words kept him quiet; surprise and excitement coursing through his every limb as soon as the words met his ears. “I’m falling for you,” you admitted in your nearly unconscious state.

“Falling for me?” He questioned, his voice barely audible as a bashful smile curved on his lips, those kissable cheeks tinting pink. You would have cooed at the sight had your eyes been open.

He knew you were unaware of your confession, but he hoped it was as genuine as he believed it to be. Yoongi wouldn’t bring up the confession; no teasing the next day; no pressure for elaboration at a later date. But with the warmth that filled his frame as he watched you breathe deeply, finally having given in to your tiredness, he was certain that he felt the same way.

You were falling for him. And he had already fallen in love with you.

Yoongi’s eyes slowly left your face, traveling down to find the dog staring up at him.

“Hear that?” He whispered to his dog, a gummy smile planted on his face as his eyes shined with the brightness of new love. “She’s falling for me.”

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jiminrings · 3 years

Note

Hey bb! First of all, let me just tell u how much I love your writing! You're fabulous, love. Don't ever doubt yourself. Secondly, I wanted to know if u could do a college professor! Jungkook and pretty student reader where Jk is absolutely enamoured by her.. (also, with a bit of the good ol smut🤭) It's a-okay if u can't tho! Just know that you're appreciated!❤️

the probability of us

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 6k

glimpse: jungkook’s the son of the university’s president, y/n’s cardigan is everyone’s favorite, and adjacent walls mean shared victories.

notes: there’s something so warm about this request that it made me write it as an actual fic and not a bullet one!!! i did alter it a little bit but i was genuinely so happy writing this so thank you sO much for this babe :D // gif from pinterest!

Jungkook, in his better and most definitely unbiased judgement, thinks he knows enough about you.

He knows you well enough to have noticed your patterns and habits with almost everything in between. They were predictable for the most part, and that was partly because he takes pride in being observational, but you manage to unintentionally throw him a curveball every now and then that makes him smile.

You always come into class when there’s atleast fifteen people in it and Jungkook wonders if you know it in the back of your head or if you just sneak a peek at the room every now and then. He’s not keen on being early to classes, and on the three straight occasions his dad left something in the classroom from the day before and got him to retrieve it for him, you were already there.

You’re fixated and practically attached to your knitted cardigan, seemingly having no problem wearing the same outfit for days straight — something so both adorable and visibly heart-racing when it’s almost always a tank top underneath that’s on the lower scoop, and a rotation of pants and sweats that sometimes feel so misplaced with your cardigan that it matches.

Jungkook’s found out that you probably wear atleast three rings on a daily basis, and that only took him two days to figure out because you’d exit the classroom with slight marks and indentations on your cheeks or on your jaw. Whether it’s to being sleepy, being bored, or being focused is something he has yet to discern — but yeah, he looks at you with his eyes silently when the class is dismissed, wondering if he’d see the same Pandora tiara ring mark on your cheek, or this time from a signet ring you sported more often.

He’s eight weeks in doing whatever this is. Whatever having the definition of him trailing behind his dad, a back and forth between his classes and his office, then them eating out for lunch break.

Sometimes, Jungkook forgets that his dad’s the president of this very university.

He’s only really known him as dad and he’s grateful for that, and the only times he’d see his father as the educator he was with the fancy doctorate degree was whenever Jungkook’s been a little lacking in his studies as a child up until high school. His mom, a doctor, would be on duty for nights and at home for mornings so that’d be the window she’d teach him the alphabet and addition with the carrying, something that eight-year old him would tear up just at the mention of.

His dad would just sit beside him in a very calm manor, take out two notebooks for one of them each, and make reviewers. Jungkook writes down what he knows and what his dad tells him to, highlights the key terms, and for some totally odd reason, making his own reviewers saved him from failing altogether and become an honor student with little help from his parents and most especially his dad.

It humors him that people are so rigid and intimidated by his dad, and he knows that not everyone would believe that this is the same guy that taught him how to give someone a proper wet willy. Jungkook sees people left and right going out of their way to greet him and pay their courtesies, stifling in a giggle that his dad also fights the need to laugh.

He loves and looks up to his dad, feeling a lot more thankful that he has a healthy relationship with his parents as an only child. Jungkook feels he owes that much to his dad that he took education for his college course, despite his blatant lack of interest for it.

And here he is — a senior at another college his dad’s not the professor of, studying a degree that he’s not gonna practice, and shadowing his father for eight weeks while he goes and teach for the “experience” as his dad calls it.

This has got to be a little ethically questionable, but that’s okay. Jungkook takes some comfort knowing that his dad’s the boss and he could just sit in a chair, pretending to absorb his lessons. In fact, he doesn’t even know why his dad opts to teach still even if he’s well high up in that ladder, the only explanation being that his father just really really likes teaching and not just be moving between airconditioned offices and meeting rooms all the time. And if that was enough, his dad just had to teach two classes to which Jungkook needs to accompany him in both — Statistics and English Literature.

Jungkook has a memory of stone that’s probably of the same kind the Code of Hammurabi was inscribed in (because he just swears his memory started way earlier than the age of four), because he practically knows everyone in each of his dad’s classes.

Eight weeks in. He’s only known that long.

But Jungkook knows for a fact that you’re never late — that much he knows. He refuses to believe that you’re actually gonna be late to class.

His dad comes in early and normally, he sits by his chair just when he’s a minute away from starting class. For some odd push today, he felt the need to enter the room with his dad and be early for once; but for the one time that he did this, you weren’t around for it.

You’re late, and you’re never late, and you’re throwing him a curveball, but something tells him in his gut that this just wasn’t something you pull out of your cardigan sleeve to confuse him.

You’re confusing.

You’re never usually confusing.

He visibly straightens in his seat when you enter the room with a sense of complacency and without the need to rush, the class only in the quieting down stages before the lesson begins when you walked in.

Mr. Jeon’s flickered to the entrance briefly, his tinkering with the HDMI cord continuing nonetheless. “Kook,” he just barely manages to get out because he’s already standing up from his seat, nimble fingers grabbing a slip from his desk that makes his dad perplexed.

Jungkook walks all the way to you at the back of the class, holding out the late slip to you a little too eagerly as it seems, and you can’t help but feel confused and irritated at the same time with how you started your morning.

For starters, coffee was spilled on your cardigan from the night before, and soaking it overnight in a mix of detergent, softener, and the tiniest bit of bleach wasn’t enough to completely rub the stain off — which meant you had to get up extra early to have it dry-cleaned (the staff looked at you a bit weirdly) and head off to where you needed to be, in a rush.

“But I’m not late though.”

You murmur as you peer up at him, refusing to even take the slip in between Jungkook’s fingers. He turns impatient, even more-so at your retort that honestly sounded genuine, that he settles on dropping it down your desk.

“You are, Y/N.” He says as convictedly as he can, only having to glance sideways briefly to your nosy seatmate to keep him out of a conversation he clearly isn’t a part of, and you make a note in your head to apologize to Jimin who gets scared easily, especially by the president’s son.

As if to prove his point, Jungkook rolls the sleeve of his bomber jacket in the slightest, enough for you to see a glimpse of his flashy gold Rolex in an attempt to tell you the time, one you couldn’t decipher because it was analog and your eyesight’s not that quick-witted nor clear.

“It’s three minutes before the start of the class,” you make it a point to outstretch your forearm, one that isn’t covered by your cardigan as he now realizes, your silver and digital Casio telling him that it’s 9:57, indeed three minutes away from the start of his dad’s class.

He barely even blinks before he adjusts himself to stand between your stretched legs so he could hold your arm and adjust your goddamn watch to be set four minutes later, his movements done so quickly that you straighten your back to the seat.

Jimin pretends he’s looking away, but deep down you already know that he’s gonna ambush you with questions as soon as Jungkook leaves.

“See that? You’re late,” he hums contentedly, pushing the late slip towards you and stands by himself with his hands across his chest, all-knowing that he wouldn’t leave not until you comply with his stupid request for a late slip.

His dad sees the interaction unfold from a distance, still confused but somehow amused, and a curious smile appears on his face as he now has something else to bring up on the dinner table later.

After all, he only called out to his son to tell him that they should go pick up a few groceries over lunch break — not to give you a late slip.

Jungkook collects the piece of paper from you wordlessly, letting his hand linger for the briefest moment but you pay him no mind, too occupied to looking at your left and gesturing for Jimin to scoot closer.

Something’s wrong.

His instincts are not exactly the most accurate but after all, it does account for something. He’s not the best at reading people when they’re indifferent, and normally you’re never indifferent to him.

He decides to lay low at that, sitting back on his chair and only twirling the slip in between his fingers and not once setting it down on the desk, preventing himself to look at it.

It’s only when his dad calls him to do a summary and explain to the class about his lesson’s breakdown, and he turns stern when he crushes the paper within his palm for the sake of being indiscreet that he totally wasn’t fiddling with paper for an hour and a half.

Jungkook returns and that’s when his dad starts giving out final reminders for their next meeting, straightening it out as much as he could until he can see your messy handwriting more than he could see the creases.

Tutored Hwang Hyunjin; state quizbee next week.

And why, exactly?

As far as he knows, Hyunjin’s the faculty’s favorite because he was such an intelligent student. He might be the favorite of his dad but he’s not entirely sure because his dad says he doesn’t like playing favorites, but he seems to think so nonetheless. If the guy who’s in the line-up for summa cum laude is asking help for a mere quizbee, what exactly is it for?

You’re an honor student, sure. In the dean’s list and in the running for cum laude, but you’ve said it yourself that you’re no Hyunjin and in verbatim, anyone who takes education as seriously as he does needs a hug and an emotional support system. Do you see yourself doing all the extra credits when you already have the highest average on all of them?

Did you hug him?

Jungkook scoffs to where his mind is running, a little dejected as he ponders on it even more as he stands next to his dad’s desk, nodding curtly at the students who bid him goodbye.

He’s extra quick to stepping up when it’s you who passes him, hands on his pocket as he asks under his breath.

“We cool?”

He tries to search for a hint of distaste in your face and he’s almost disappointed to find none, a genuine small smile on as you reply and come out the door without so much of a look back at him.

“‘Course we are, Mr. Jeon.”

... \ ( ♡ ) / ...

“What’s up with you?”

Jungkook utters the moment the door of your apartment swings open. It was straight to the point, really. No buttering up to you and no unnecessary bullshit before he drops the question that’s been plaguing his mind the whole day.

You had only been brushing your teeth when you hear a series of crisp and heavy knocks that led you to think that your neighbor Hoseok next-door has finally screwed up the pooch completely, and accidentally set his kitchen on fire with the cookie batter he’s been doing a series of trial and error with for a dozen times already.

Oh.

It’s only Jungkook, then.

He doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned being out in the hallway that gave everyone an opportunity to see him. Frankly, everyone who’s set foot to the president’s office, which is everyone, could tell who he is simply by looking at the few hundred picture frames Mr. Jeon has on his desk.

He’s not concerned and he doesn’t have the gall to be concerned either, because as much as he knows that although underneath his dad’s section, the housing section of the college wasn’t under his close supervision. Besides that, he finds that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with this.

Jungkook only looks up to you for a few seconds, wide-eyed with your toothbrush in your mouth, and decides to let himself in.

This being yours and Jungkook’s interactions for the past eight weeks. There’s not a label to it, but it goes along the lines of the occasional fuck, and then the ranting about each other’s days, and binge-watching that either ends up as hook-up, or trying to pick up new hobbies the other’s just suggested, or whatever’s playing is actually playing and the two of you just watch, your head laid on his lap and his hand brushing your hair.

Yeah, that one. Whatever that’s called — that’s what you and Jungkook are.

It’s been painfully obvious to your tight knit of friends, namely only being Jimin and Hoseok, that those things practically yielded to the commitment of him being something that starts with boy and ends with a friend, no spaces in between and all in one word.

You blink away your internal monologue, remembering that you need to spit before replying to his question that he’s asked you point-blank two seconds ago.

“You saw me in class today.”

That one couldn’t be anymore obvious and he huffs at that, once again going on a grumpy fit of frustration while he lies on your bed upright, arms across his chest. “Off,” you swat his leg immediately, making him haphazardly throw away his shoes if he want to keep being frustrated with you.

That’s the exact bit though. Regardless if you forced him to take off his shoes while he’s on your bed, he’d be frustrated at you regardless. He doesn’t know why he’s frustrated with you in the first place and that just makes him stressed even more.

The realization hits him that Jungkook doesn’t really know why he’s so pressed about you, his tone considerably softening because now he feels a little smaller under your curious gaze.

“Yeah, yeah. I clearly know that. I, uh, I meant outside of class.”

Normally, he’d find your avoidance of things actually endearing because you seemed to worm your way out of any situation you just deem to be unrelated to you — but for the first time, he doesn’t know if you’re avoiding his question. If this was still your passive-aggressiveness or genuineness showing its head right now.

“You’re starting to sound like a professor, y’know,” you note with intrigue, relishing to how Jungkook lying on your bed and looking at you under such intensity seems normal to you at this point and at this moment. “A professor hanging out with his student outside of class, in her dorm, and on a weekday.”

The comment you add was supposed to be humorous but you find it rather odd now having said it out loud, the realization dawning on you that whatever this is, is just too ambiguous and vague that you’d never wanted something so specific in your lifetime.

“Just trying to appease dad. Do I look like I have the patience to teach a class, better yet show up?”

That’d be the actual bane of him.

Don’t get him wrong, professors must be so cool and patient with their workload and stuff, but holy fucking shit does he hate it for himself. He means no disrespect to his dad but he honestly can’t see himself doing what he does, even for a fraction of his life willingly.

You sort of envy him for the upbringing he has and the wholesome and healthy relationship he has with his family that you wouldn’t mind telling people all about. Not everyone expects Jungkook to be as family-oriented as he looks, and the little nugget of information he made you privy too puts a gentle smile of your face.

“You do have the patience to ask me if I’m okay though.”

It’s a question between reeling yourself in and putting yourself out there more, plopping to sit on the edge of your bed as you try to put lotion on your legs all the way down to your heel.

Jungkook finds it normal to see you putting lotion on and zit cream on your face, and he doesn’t question it for one second.

That doesn’t automatically mean that he’s gonna address it though.

“Well, baby, are y’okay?” he crawls the short distance from you, putting half of his body weight as he slings himself on your shoulders from behind, lips brushing against your ear as he pulls you tighter.

“Mhmmm.”

He finds it that as much as he pulls you tighter, you grow a bit more distant. You’re there with him but your mind isn’t, perhaps lost on the lotion that only adds into your scent that seems engraved in his mind nowadays.

Jungkook does as much as to tug a sleeve of your shirt to expose the slightest bit of your shoulder blades, pressing wet gentle kisses that leaves you, surprisingly, unfazed.

You make no move nor action, just continuing on rubbing your arms with your hands and him taking the momentary act of silence to look around your room, seeing your textbooks piled neatly on your desk with your lamp on.

“Long night?”

He asks and not a second later do you hum in confirmation, making him roll his eyes and his stomach churn, but it probably just has something to do with a heartburn that’s beginning to form because the ache’s spreading to his chest.

It’s got to be heartburn, right?

“Alright. Didn’t have to answer me too quick just so you can kick me out.”

He mutters underneath his breath a little hurt, taking your responses as his cue to leave. His flair for what you think is the dramatics makes you roll your eyes and slap his thigh, following him out on the way to the door.

Jungkook’s fazed because he doesn’t exactly know the essential purpose plus his expected outcome of this five-minute visit. He doesn’t have a clue, but dropping to your apartment unannounced and seeing you for just even five minutes, even if he doesn’t know why, doesn’t seem wrong.

What is wrong, is that you’d normally kiss him goodbye.

This time, you don’t.

... \ ( ♡ ) / ...

Jungkook’s gut tells him to come early to class, even telling his dad that he’d come down there by himself so he could scope out his class like the great son that he is, and he does exactly that.

Some of the early-birds are pleasantly surprised to see him there, early and alone without Dr. Jeon, sitting on his usual chair.

This setting’s odd for him and as much as he wants to leave, he doesn’t feel the need to. He doesn’t really care if he’s intimidating the students because after all, that’s not the reason why he’s here. In fact, he’s aware that he seems to be quite the talk of the campus, the verdict being half and half if he was as fun, easygoing, yet stern like his father — or if he’s something else entirely. Either way, none of them could catch on to the fact besides you that he’s not here out of passion, but rather obligation.

There’s less than thirty students in the room but Jungkook could just feel it at the back of his spine that you’re gonna walk through the door soon enough. You’ve got to be, right? Jungkook stands by himself near the door, practically barricading the door with how he’s built.

This familiar guy he can’t put a name to is walking through the door carelessly, eyes completely fixed on his phone that his shoulder’s barreling into Jungkook’s.

“Oh hey dude, what’s up?”

The guy in question barely even looks up for a second, a meek smile on his face before turning to his phone again and just staying there by the door, a character paused to block it all for a fucking text as what it seems.

Jungkook barely needs a second to look at him eye to eye; tall, pale, long blonde hair, and smooth pronounced features.

Hwang Hyunjin.

He’s only seen him in passing but never on this scale, his first instinct being straightening his back. They’re roughly the same height, Jungkook shoving his observation to the back of his head that Hyunjin’s only a millimeter higher than him.

He’s probably the only one applying pressure to this scenario, thick brows furrowing as he almost grimaces looking at the younger guy in front of him.

“Are you in this class?”

What?

Hyunjin’s confused to say the least, not only because this random dude he bumped into is suddenly making conversation with him, but because someone’s actually questioning about his presence here.

He lowers his phone, putting a pause to his heated exchange of which installment of this series they’re watching this, all in the favor for staring at this guy who’s cowling at him.

“... Yes?”

His answer even sounds unsure, Jungkook’s questioning raise of his brows prompting him to explain.

Hyunjin doesn’t even know why he feels compelled to explain but he does it nonetheless. “They say I could sit in this class. Some topics would show up in the quizbee next week.”

That’s just grand.

Before Jungkook can simmer in his irritation even more, his dad slips through the door by holding his shoulders in place, looking between the two of them briefly before walking to his desk.

“Kook? Thought you’d open up the lesson without me.”

Blondie tilts his gaze, eyes narrowing as he tries to scan a Kook in his brain’s directory and why it sounds so fond coming from Dr. Jeon.

“Mmmm, sorry dad.”

Jungkook emphasizes a little more than needed, turning to him and sending him a half-hearted grin while unbeknownst to him, Hyunjin pales and is having a breakdown and a half.

Did he really just accidentally bump into the college president’s son? Is he gonna be expelled now?

Jungkook’s oblivious to the inner turmoil that’s unfolding in the guy in front of him, crossing his arms before looking at his dad once more.

“Is he allowed here?”

He questions sharply like a toddler who’s just seen an inconspicuous man by the swing, his cheeks rounding with his lips pursed.

His dad’s really confused because this is the most intrigue he’s seen Jungkook inhibit for the whole eight weeks.

Of course his dad knows; he’s more than aware that his son has literally no interest in being a professor, and honestly speaking, he’s not even mad at that. He’a outsmarted him on this one and just went along with the lengths of hi son trying to impress him, falling into this eight-week routine of them bonding together with little practice teaching, yet Jungkook still wonders where he got his wit from.

He looks back and forth between Jungkook and Hyunjin, perplexed because he’s pretty sure that the two of them don’t know each other and that doesn’t explain the tension lingering.

“Hyunjin? Yeah. President’s lister, right?”

Hyunjin grins and chuckles at that, bowing slightly as he just passes Jungkook that appalls the latter.

“You put me there, sir.”

Jungkook mocks him under his breath, not going unnoticed by his dad who just chuckles all the same. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” he lies right out of his teeth, sitting on his chair and spreading his legs until his dad nudges him to be atleast decent because he wants the students to focus on his presentation and not his son’s crotch.

He feels cursed having such clear vision because even when the lights are dim, Jungkook still finds his gaze looking for you out of habit. Cursed for seeing Hyunjin sit on the other side of you and suddenly he wishes that this would be the time that Jimin interferes.

He’s unsure if you’re making him confused or he’s confusing himself, but the way his head feels like splitting just by thinking about you and what he could’ve done wrong tells him that he should be definite.

“Would you mind wrapping up the lesson, Mr. Jeon?” his dad asks outloud and for any other context, they’d share identical smiles on how they should be professional towards each other (as suggested by his dad) during class.

“Not at all, Dr. Jeon.”

God, he’s so oblivious to see how he has everyone gravitating towards him that it’s actually endearing. You sitting all the way up gives you a front-row seat to see how everyone sits up a little straighter and how heads follow his every move.

Jungkook has everyone wrapped around his finger and he doesn’t even know — you’re everyone; he can’t know.

He steps up to the plate and the natural dominance and hold he has on everyone broke through, a lesson about statistics never being this intense and a large majority of the people would really stay for another hour and a half if it’s Jungkook who’s teaching.

He’s so absorbed into summarizing as a way of destressing that he ended up giving perhaps one of the best makeshift lectures ever, his dad positively awed and ending up even more confused.

Jungkook’s coming down from his lecture high, nervously fiddling with his fingers as his dad gives the final reminders. What doesn’t help is also you coming out of the classroom with Hyunjin in tow, wearing your cardigan, and that’s what considerably sets him off.

Suddenly, he now decides that your cardigan is the ugliest and most disgusting piece of clothing he’s ever seen in his life. It’s the furthest thing from adorable, and the nearest thing into being set on fire.

You still smell sweet and homey when you’re nearing him, and the realization that your cardigan’s tainted by the smell of you and soon enough, Hyunjin will — it hits Jungkook too hard that he mutters under his breath, his jaw lax from being clenched.

“If you have a problem with me, just tell me about it.”

He can’t find the will in himself to care whether or not Hyunjin’s gone on without you and is waiting for you by the corridor, or that his dad’s arranging his shelf and could be possibly listening.

“I don’t,” your face reflects the same thing as your answer, devoid of any uncertainty that you have a problem with him.

“You don’t?” he prods further even if he knows that asking the second time wouldn’t even help.

“I don’t. Do you?”

There’s no malice in your tone. It’s the same gentleness laced with mischief underneath, head tilting in question.

That’s when he narrows his eyes at you, always knowing how to play your cards right without him knowing.

“With you or with myself?”

You shrug carelessly, an automatic giggle tumbling out of your lips that it bothers you too because you shouldn’t be okay with pulling yourself away from Jungkook, and the fact that it could be because you made peace long enough that the two of you will never be more is something to blame.

“You tell me, Mr. Jeon.”

He’s never hated his family name more and the formality preceding it than now. In reality, he’s just a year older than most of you in this class and the last time he’s checked, no one calls their senior, despite being from another university, like that.

Everyone assumed that he should be called with respect because after all, they’re probably looking at the future of this institution anyways.

Stable breaths aren’t enough and Jungkook seems to despise the way your slightest change towards him affects him the most, and his pride over not reaching out to your first has long been gone since.

He figures that this is just your way of detaching from him because his eight weeks are almost up, and that he should be totally fine with it because after all it’s only been eight weeks.

He can’t see another eight weeks of you pulling out from him, and even worse, eight weeks without you.

“We’re not cool.”

Jungkook says as soon as you open your door, not waiting for you to gesture him to come in. In any other situation, he’d find you adorable having traded your contacts for glasses, and absolutely sexy if his blood’s rushing elsewhere besides his cheeks. There’s no introduction of asking about your day nor catching you off-guard with a kiss either.

It’s him going straight to your bed and lying upright, looking at you somberly that you feel sorry you’ve been establishing this change in the first place.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

His question is a complete 180 from his voice that’s been gravelly since morning, sincerity underneath the rough edges.

You shake your head no, a signal that there’s absolutely nothing wrong and you don’t have anything to tell him about.

“Are you sure?”

He looks at you with wide reassuring eyes just begging for anything, atleast something, the only time that he wishes there’s something wrong going on so he could chalk it up to that instead of facing this shift with you blindly and aimlessly.

You’re wordlessly climbing up on bed too, making him automatically scoot over to his side of your bed when he stays overnight, instant warmth welcoming you just by having your shoulders touch with him. It’s a head nod of yes, I’m sure that there’s nothing wrong with your eyes closed.

Being beside him is the equivalent of all the comfortable nights you’ve slept. Jungkook’s the ultimate compilation and the most expensive goodie box of warm hugs and warm tea that tasted familiar instead of incredibly earthy. He’s white noise and eight-hour loops of rainfall against your windows and humidifier-goodness of sleep that you take indulgence and warmth in.

Jungkook’s in another realm of thought when he almost snaps at you because your roles have been reversed and it’s him who’s doting over you.

“Are you usually this non-committal?”

You’re always warm with a cherry on top when you talk to Jungkook, and just only two days of you giving him timid replies has him asking you if you’re the opposite of the adjective that people most commonly attached to you.

“I think we both know best that I’m loyal.”

You are.

It’s a word that’s almost always attached to your name. You’ve never really sustained a large group of close friends, and it wasn’t needed, but Jungkook finds it funny that you’re oblivious to how people look at you.

He’s well-acquainted with what goes around, and the only things that go around about you was that you’ve touched them in one way or another. You’re the most loyal friend Jimin has because you’ve stuck with him even if he’s spilled his guts on your bathroom floor, missing the mark of your toilet bowl. You gave up your bed for him and tucked him in even if he was still at risk of throwing up because he just couldn’t stop, and made him breakfast the next morning. You’ve only known each other for three days.

Hoseok considers you his most loyal neighbor slash friend ever, because you let him have a go at your pantry even if you knew at the back of your head that he’d screw up something in his recipe one way or another. Even started buying extra ingredients whenever he needs them, and him purposefully forgetting that he has brown sugar at the back of his cabinet.

You are loyal, and that’s what he sometimes hates about you too because it makes you more vulnerable. A little too easy to trample on. A little too easy to have you cheering for someone from the bleachers when they’re still on the bench.

Jungkook wonders if you’re loyal to him too, and if you were (which he’s sure of, and there’s no denying it), would you still be even if he feels like the two of you are growing apart?

“Then why do I feel that-“

He sighs in exasperation, head turning to face you and he’s greeted with your finger outstretched, digging in to where his dimple would appear.

He could look at you properly this time because he’s not in a rush asking if you’re okay. Eyes glazed looking up at him underneath your glasses, scrunched nose with the cutest smile and all that he wants this to never stop.

“Hey.”

You whisper in a rush all of a sudden, a toothy grin fading steadily when your thumb comes to rest on his cheek, whole hand soon pressed to it whole that Jungkook finds himself leaning.

“I’m in love with you.”

It comes out of you fluidly; no baited breath and no hesitation at all. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, actually. Not once did you think that you’d ever tell Jungkook you love him in this way, or ever for that matter, but it’s something that materialized out of thin air.

It’s as quick as a passing thought and as stable as a core memory, reiterating what is only a truth instead of a confession.

There’s no sadness in your gaze and no distrust either, but the smile that stretches on your cheeks doesn’t look as giddy.

He’s a little cross-eyed with how close you are, but Jungkook audibly whimpers when you pull away suddenly and out of the bed altogether, picking up your laptop from your table.

You don’t know what you’re doing either, but you could only hope that it looks as natural as it seemed, wanting him to know that your sudden realization that you need to make a twenty-page essay in size 12 font has nothing to do with your profession of love.

“But I know I shouldn’t, and besides, it’s a conflict of interest. Anyway, let’s just end this here now and-...”

“Are you insane?”

Jungkook exclaims in punctuation marks and of deep urgency, looking at you as if you suggested the most ridiculous thing ever after what you’ve just said, which you exactly did.

“Just continue loving me!”

He says it as the most obvious thing ever, his chest feeling an odd sense of relief after having blown up with emotion. He’s a sponge at this point in whatever relationship the two of you have. He’ll take what you can give, but this was something Jungkook would run to hell and back for to not take from you.

“You didn’t even ask if I loved you back! And that’s my honest answer, not something that would appease you when you return the question.”

He looks a little softer around the edges at the moment — arms flailing around and hair bouncing as he keeps moving his head.

His cheeks are puffed out when he’s angry and his lips are red from trying to get his point across strongly, stammering with what more he could think of in his head.

“It’s not a conflict of interest either! I only shadowed my dad to please him, but we both know that I don’t want to become a professor like him. You just think that it is because you’re up on the seats and I’m down on the podium!” he’s heated and his cheeks are warm and there’s no way it has something to do with your airconditioning.

“It’s a stint. It was a literal eight-week stint for free, because he’s the president for god’s sake — that’s it! I go back to my university in like what, a week? And they don’t even need me passing requirements, because they already know, again, that I’m the son of a university president! Honestly, it’d be stupid of them to.”

Jungkook feels like he’s gonna pass out with how overwhelmed he is. Too overwhelmed to the point that he doesn’t see you smiling out of the corner of his eye, hand rubbing down the length of his nape to his back.

It’s only then that you realize that he’s rambling and his voice is wavering, concern dripping down from you instead of amused laughter.

“Y/N, please, it’s convenient — more than convenient. I graduate this year, and you next year. The last thing I’d do in my life is grade papers. You know what I want to be? I wanna be-...”

Jungkook’s cut off with a tender kiss on the corner of his mouth that’s grounded him, blinking twice to look at you.

He should really kiss you right now.

“You could’ve condensed that into a single simple sentence,” you snort when you pull away from Jungkook’s hold, sending him a look of faux disappointment to which he whines. “It’s called I love you too, Jungkook.”

He squints at your teasing but reasons just as quick, sneaking in his head underneath your shirt to escape from your teasing and importantly, press a gentle kiss to your chest, then your boobs, and settling to lie down on your stomach as he’s content.

“I was panicked!”

Jungkook’s certain that he loves you, laughing to himself when he heard heavy knocks against your bedroom wall that just conveniently happens to be adjacent to Hoseok’s.

“Fucking finally! I was about to flirt with either of you just so you could cut to the chase and admit it to each other!”

Your laugh is the sweetest thing he’s ever heard, coming out from hiding underneath your shirt and just laying on top of your clothed tummy, hand looking for yours to hold on to.

You’ve been sleepy the entire time, he’s figured. You having switched to your glasses meant you’ve already had your night shower, and only had three hours maximum before succumbing to your bed. You’ve had a long day clearly, and it’s when you’re starting to succumb into sleep right exactly where you are that Jungkook suddenly remembers.

“You know what I want to be? I wanna be-…”

“With you.”

“Mhmm?” you all but mumble, feeling him adjust your head on the pillow while he lays on his, literal weight being lifted off from you.

Jungkook feels even more endeared if that’s any more possible, the tiniest boop to your nose and the softest kiss on your forehead.

“I wanna be with you.”

#fEEDBACK PLS AND THANK U :D #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook drabble #jungkook drabbles #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fic rec #jungkook fic recs #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook fluff imagine

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luxwritesfanfic · 3 years

Text

Don’t Take The Money

Poor reader thought it would end up being a normal Sunday but that must’ve been the mix of bleach and Pinesol fumes getting to their head. Or, the one where reader finds out they have more in common with the other woman in Sherlock’s life than they thought and Sherlock has an aneurysm at the revelation. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You were just waking up when Sherlock was moving around the bedroom trying to pack his overnight bag. You groaned at the noise of drawers being opened and hangers jostled and rolled over onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Sherlock? You’re leaving?”

He stopped in his tracks back towards the closet and moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to you. He looked down at you with fondness that so many people thought he was incapable of feeling and as always, it made your heart swell. Brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, you relished in his undivided attention.

“A case was brought to my attention. I won’t be gone for long, it’s a few towns over.” He insists, trying to ease your worries before they arise.

Although you’d miss him, it never did anyone any good when Sherlock was bored. He needed something to keep him occupied and you needed time to clean up the drywall shrapnel that constantly covered the couch due to the boredness. It would give you the opportunity to deep clean the flat and the idea wasn’t so bad.

“Is John going too?” Sherlock nodded. You don’t know why you asked, they always worked together.

You turned your head to kiss his palm and sat up to get out of bed. “Okay. I’ll make you breakfast before you guys leave. Nobody likes train food anyway.”

Sherlock moved to help you stand, one of the smiles he reserved just for you gracing his lips. “You take excellent care of me. But you should know, you don’t have to be useful for this to mean something to me.”

He caught you off guard, but he usually did when he read you like a book. Your whole life you’d made yourself useful and you weren’t sure if people liked you for you or for the fact that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them. You would do anything and everything for Sherlock and it didn’t have anything to do with being useful, honestly. You loved him dearly and you couldn’t imagine treating him like you felt anything less than that. You couldn’t help but kiss him.

“Omelettes or pancakes?”

—

Your shirt was soaked from washing the dishes and you smelled like a mixture of bleach and formaldehyde from scrubbing the fridge clean and removing the severed head that took up the space where your coffee creamer should be. You had done more loads of laundry than you could count, bleached the bloodstained tub from Sherlock’s latest pig quest, the entire flat smelled like Bahama breeze and you couldn’t be more content. The boys weren’t due back for a day or two so you figured you’d spend some time with Mrs. Hudson when you were done and see if you could meet up with Bucky and Greg for lunch. When you passed the kitchen on your way to your bedroom to change, you decided that this may be the only chance you ever get to clear off the dining room table. Sherlock’s science equipment had overrun it and you figured it wouldn’t hurt if you straightened it up just a bit.

You were in the midst of cleaning out Sherlock’s beakers when you heard the knock on the door. Figuring that John would have posted on his blog that they weren’t currently taking clients because they were on a case, you expected to see Mrs. Hudson and the mop she was letting you borrow. You cracked the door just enough to see who was on the other side and was surprised to see an older woman holding a plate of baked goods who wasn’t Mrs. Hudson.

“Hi... how can I help you?”

The woman in question’s eyes lit up at the sight of you and you weren’t sure why. She smiled and gestured to the platter in her hands. “Is Sherlock Holmes here?”

She must be a client, you thought. Shaking your head, you responded, “No, sorry! The boys off on a case. I’m a friend of theirs. Is there something I can help you with?”

She was looking past you into the flat and you weren’t sure what she was looking for. “Do you mind if I come in? I could really use a cup of tea. And I wanted to drop these cookies I made for Sherlock off.”

You looked at what she was holding and decided it wouldn’t really hurt to let her in, and the cookies looked amazing. Sherlock must have helped her in some way.

“Sure, come on in. Sorry about my clothes... I’ve been doing some spring cleaning.” You stepped aside and let her in. “So, are you a client of his?”

She went to place the platter on the table and you were excited that it was already worth cleaning off the table. “Not quite. I’ve known him his whole life and have loved him even longer.” She turned and smiled at you, seeing through you in a way that seemed eerily close to Sherlock.

You hummed, taking in her answer. Sherlock didn’t talk much about his friends, so you weren’t surprised that you never heard of her.

“Just a minute, I’m gonna change.”

You excused yourself to the bedroom where your phone was charging on the bed. After sending Sherlock a quick text that someone who wasn’t a client was here for him, you dug around in the closet for something clean and more appropriate.

The lady didn’t really seem like a threat and you were sure if it came down to it, you’d be able to protect yourself. You could chuck the skull on the mantle if need be, it was a hard hitter.

When you returned, she was wandering around the flat and looking at all of the pictures of you, Sherlock, and John that you’d recently framed and put out.

“You and Sherlock, you’re close, yes? Tell me about him. It’s been so long.” She was holding a picture that you took of you two in the back of a taxi. Sherlock was on his phone but you thought his hair looked extra good and the golden hour light made him look like an angel so you had to take the picture.

“Yeah, I mean. He’s a seriously great person. A brilliant detective, he’s so smart. He helps all these people for free, and he never complains if they don’t offer him anything. He hates when I tell him he’s a godsend but who else would do that? Um... he’s really funny, probably one of the funniest people I know. You just have to keep up with his humor. It can be kind of dry, but it’s there. He’s one of the most loyal people there is and he’d do anything for the people he cares about.”

It was so easy for you to speak so highly of him. It was like second nature.

“He can be stubborn sometimes, and he can be a little more blunt than he needs to be but... he’s amazing. There’s no other way to explain him, really. He’s got a light that comes from him that rivals the sun and I don’t think it could ever be dimmed.”

She turned back to you and slowly broke out into one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen someone wear. “You really love my son.”

“Your son?” You blinked, unsure of what was going on. You really started to look at the woman in front of you and you realized Sherlock had her eyes. A complete copy and paste. “Oh my God, you’re Sherlock’s mom. I never even introduced myself. I’m Y/N, a friend of-”

“You’re not his friend, dear, and I’m not blind. Old age takes a lot from you, but I could never miss the way my son shines. And you... you see it too.” She walked up to you, still holding the picture frame in her hands. “You love my son in a way that no one else has. Let me tell you all about him.”

—

You couldn’t stop laughing.

Sherlock’s mom had brought over tons of scrapbooks and old pictures that she had acquired over the years, and you had a feeling she knew you were here alone before she even knocked on the door. Mycroft, probably. You spent the whole day getting to know each other and taking a stroll down memory lane with her telling you all about Sherlock as a kid and how it was growing up with two geniuses as sons. She even gave you a copy of one of Sherlock’s high school pictures that you were going to cherish forever. She seemed so happy to have someone to talk to and assured you that spending time with you was the closest she had felt to Sherlock in a long time.

You insisted that she stay and let you make dinner, but she was as equally stubborn as Sherlock and ordered you takeaway as her treat. You tried to argue but she was having none of it. “My God, you scrubbed this whole flat clean. I’m not going to let you dirty your dishes. How does Chinese sound?”

—

Sherlock barreled up the steps with all the force he could muster in his legs and rushed in to see you, perfectly fine and all in one piece, having dinner with his mother.

“Sherlock!” You both exclaimed, his mother full of excitement and you full of worry.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, standing up from your end of the couch. “I thought you were on a case? Is everything okay?”

“I’ve been texting and calling you all day! You’re that daft that you couldn’t text back once all this time?” He’s still out of breath and he can feel his heartbeat in his ears. His tone is exasperated and you could hear the mix of anxiety and relief in his voice as he’d yet to acknowledge his mother. She seemed perfectly content to sit back and watch the situation unfold, amusement at her son’s unusual outburst gracing her features.

“My phone was dead! And then I put it on the charger and I forgot about it once your mom came, by the way!” You went to the bedroom and retrieved your phone to find a dozen missed texts and calls.

Probably just a client. SH

11:07 AM

Are you sure it’s not a client? SH

11:43 AM

Are they still there? SH

1:00 PM

Missed Call

1:17 PM

Missed Call

2:03 PM

Call me back. SH

3:26 PM

Y/N, I’m on a case. Call me back. SH

3:44 PM

Missed Call

4:13 PM

Is everything alright? SH

4:52 PM

Missed Call

5:08 PM

Missed Call

5:10 PM

Missed Call

5:12 PM

I’m boarding the train now and I’ll be there soon. Don’t worry. SH

5:21 PM

Sherlock followed after you, still without ever acknowledging his mother, and shut the door after himself. With his palms braced against the wooden door, he tried to ease the tension out of his bones through a deep breath as he watched you check your phone. He wasn’t worried about the case at all. It was mostly solved and what little was left John could do with ease. He felt the weight of the missed calls in his stomach like lead and the three hour train ride that he couldn’t curse to defy time any quicker. He had plenty of enemies and you had virtually none, so there would be no reason to think you’d hesitate to assist anyone who came to his door, especially if it was in the name of helping him. He thought he’d walk into a crime scene and he couldn’t shake those images out of his head.

You got up from the bed and walked over to him, reaching to wrap one arm around his neck and to take his hand in yours in the other. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, and then to his chin, over his eyelids, his nose, and then lastly you met his lips, murmuring “I’m sorry” in between every kiss. He didn’t usually voice it, but you had known him long enough to know when he was upset. He relaxed into your touch as he always did and you pulled away from him long enough to pull on the ends of his scarf. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Let me help. We got takeaway for your mom and I but we can share mine. I got what you like anyway.”

He let you pull his scarf and jacket off and you were delighted to see he wasn’t really mad with you. You hang his jacket on the closet door and by the time you turn back to face him, he’s already making his way back out to the living room. Following after him, you see his mother gesturing him to come over.

“What are you doing here? I thought I told Mycroft to tell you I was away on business.” He was messing with the cuffs on his sleeves but his question was directed at his mother with unmistakable intent. She tsked at him, and you began to see even more similarities in their mannerisms.

“That’s no way to talk to your mother, William. I was spending some time with your darling partner here and I don’t even get a kiss or a hug?” She began gathering her belongings and threw her purse over her shoulder. You weren’t happy to see her go.

You did peak up at the name. “William? Your name is William?”

Sherlock groaned, ignoring you completely. You swore you could see a blush dusting his cheeks. In no time he was at the door, holding it open for his mother. “It’s getting rather late, don’t you agree? Father must be wondering where you are. Be sure to pay Mycroft a visit the next time you’re in town. I assure you, he always has time for family.”

She turned to you and blew you a kiss. “I had a great time with you today, I hope you’ll manage to bring Sherlock home more.”

Walking over to Sherlock, she paused to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, “I know you know what you could lose here. So be sure you don’t, Sherlock.”

Before she totally stepped out of the flat, she turned around one last time. “Promise me you’ll come home soon. Your father and I miss you dearly.”

“I heard you the first ten times. Goodnight and safe travels, mother.” Sherlock shut the door before his mother could get another word and your shoulders slumped.

“Hey, that was your mom! She’s really nice. We had a good day.” You started to clean up the coffee table and take the dishes into the kitchen. You couldn’t understand Sherlock’s relationship with his family but you were sure there was a lot of things you didn’t know. Still, it was nice to have a chance to bond with your (maybe one day) future family. It was then that you realized that Sherlock never said anything when his mother mentioned you being his partner. You two never really officially defined what you were, so to see him not object to an actual title made you feel all warm inside.

“No, you had a good day. I was trying to work a case and clear a man’s name while trying to figure out if I’d come home to you kidnapped or dead.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, watching you from the doorway. You looked back at him as you dropped the dishes into the sink and let out a sigh. You hated the fact that you let him down.

“I have to go back tomorrow to tie some loose ends with John. If you come with me, I have a feeling I’ll get over it a lot quicker.” His voice was quiet but full of mirth. He won’t hold this over your head, and you both know this, but if it makes him feel better you’ll follow him. You’d follow him to the ends of the Earth and off the edge if he lead you.

Sherlock pushed himself off of the doorway and walked towards the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

“So, you’re staying home tonight?” You swung around the kitchen doorway and called out to the hall. You hadn’t even thought about Sherlock having to go back, and you couldn’t help but be excited that he would be there for you to fall asleep next to tonight.

“You didn’t expect me to make the trip back at this hour, did you? Besides, I sleep better with you and it’s obvious that I don’t focus well if you’re not around, Which is why I need you to come with me tomorrow. It seems you owe me, anyway.” Sherlock takes a step back so you can see him in the bedroom doorway, and you can feel your heart in your throat.

He’s so beautiful, you think, all alabaster skin and lean muscle. He’s pulling a t-shirt over his head and you wonder if you could manifest a photographic memory long enough to commit him to memory. Of course he notices you staring, and you almost want to mention all the times you catch him staring at you but he changes the subject and opens the blankets for you and you shut up and follow him. You follow him and you love him and you wake up in the morning at the crack of dawn to run downstairs and order coffee from the shop next door before your train leaves, being sure to get them to write “William” on the cup. Sherlock doesn’t find this funny at all, but he still lets you fall asleep on his arm on the train ride there and doesn’t complain when his arm falls asleep right along with you.

He thinks that if this is the life his mother wished for him as a child, that would be one thing he could take off of his list of things she eventually needs to answer for. Because mothers know best, and when it came to you, she could have never been more right.

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