😳

(part 3 of November Paramedic; part 2 is here.)

When Gareth mentioned a plan to locate Eddie’s paramedic in shining armor, Eddie assumed it'd be him getting into various accidents all over Indianapolis. It's something the little shit would've found funny, okay! But, Gareth's plan is much less hazardous and slightly more logical: lurk around the university until they spot him. Like a pair of drug dealers trying to tempt the goody-two-shoes protagonist into addiction and sin on an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.

It's not the simplest task since they don't know when Steve might be there. Also, other responsibilities mean they can only spare so many hours loitering. So, thirteen days post-hatching plan and nineteen days post-meeting Steve (not that Eddie's been counting or anything), with nothing to show for their ethically questionable behavior, Eddie is ready to give up. Especially since both of them have a rare simultaneous day off. Usually, those are spent jamming, smoking, playing D&D… literally anything other than this.

"This is fucking stupid," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "We're not gonna run into him."

"Sure we are," Gareth says. He drops his butt among the dozens they've chain-smoked and lights another without meeting Eddie's gaze. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."

"The only thing you're feeling is delusional. It's time to give up."

"Eddie, c'mon-"

"Nope." One last drag and Eddie stomps out his cig. "Fuck this; I'm out."

He stalks toward his van at the far end of the parking lot. Gareth curses before running after him.

"Dude!" he exclaims, jogging to keep up with Eddie's longer strides. "You can't just give up! What about what you said-"

"I was being stupid. What was I even imagining? We orchestrate another meeting and, what, I use my freakish wiles and seduce him? And then we'll live happily ever after…" Eddie shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. He'd probably turn out to be a douche anyhow."

"No, listen!" Gareth seizes Eddie's arm and yanks him to a stop in the middle of the lot. "You always do this. Self-sabotage and cut things short, even when there's potential."

Eddie scoffs. "You know what else always happens? I end up liking them more than they like me. It's not fun."

"You don't know it'll be like that this time. You have to try."

"No."

Eddie takes a step back. He's done; he's out. Gareth reaches for his wrist to pull him back in. He jerks away, almost losing his footing and stumbling into the burgundy car behind him. Gareth's arms shoot out to help, but Eddie steadies himself before crashing. For a second, silence reigns as they assure everyone's on solid ground. Then Eddie opens his mouth to once and for all-

"Eddie? Gareth?"

Their heads snap to the side, eyes landing on… Max? Looking unusually dressy in high-waisted shorts and a fitted top under an oversized jacket, and her hair in a high ponytail. She's got her skateboard under her arm, a messenger bag with a textbook sticking out, and a confused furrow between her eyebrows.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Fuck. They can't tell her the truth – she'll never let him live it down. Fortunately, Gareth realizes this too, because he says:

"Uh, I go to school here? What are you doing here? The math building is way over there."

She rolls her eyes and leans on the burgundy car. It's a shiny BMW M5 – the limited anniversary edition. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie almost dented that thing! It's worth more than his life. And Max is slouching against it like it's nothing. He could warn her not to scratch it, but she's unlikely to care; she's always been metal that way.

"Waiting for my friends," she says. "We have dinner on Tuesdays."

Eddie's ears ignite. Dinner? With friends? While wearing what's basically a date outfit?

"Ooohhh…" he says, sharing a grin with Gareth. "And do these friends include someone special?"

She shrugs, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Red! You're killing me! I need to know if he's good enough for you."

His fingers hover over her ponytail, as if to tug at it. She slaps his hand away.

"You're annoying."

He laughs. This terrible day just became infinitely better. He won't rest until he gets what he wants – or until she punches him, which'll probably come first. He's about to tell her so when a voice calls her name. Both turn to look, and…

It's a boy Max's age. He's beaming and waving, quickening his steps toward her. She smiles too, almost shyly, as she waves back. It's the perfect opportunity for teasing, if Eddie's day hadn't just become infinitely better.

His tongue is heavy, his skin is itching, his heart is bruising his ribs from the inside. Sweat is gathering in his pits and it's getting a little hard to breathe. Because walking half a pace behind the boy, carrying a huge duffel with such ease it might actually be stuffed with feathers, is… is…

"Yesssss!" Gareth hisses next to him. He may also be fist-pumping. Eddie isn't looking.

"Hey!" The boy stops in front of Max. "Sorry, practice ran late."

"It's okay," she says, cooler than ice, though her eyes are glittering. "I just got here."

She says something else, or maybe the boy does? It's all background noise, because Steve has caught up. Steve, in jeans and a polo that must've been tailored to his exact measurements because oooooooooohhhh boy. Steve, unshouldering the bag, muscles shifting and straining under his shirt with the movement. Steve, smiling, his golden eyes flying over Eddie.

"Hey! Eddie and Gareth, right?"

Eddie draws a sharp breath. He remembers!

"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks, hands fluttering to either wave or shake hands, ultimately doing neither. "Hi! You're here!"

"I am," Steve says, casual, as if inane conversations with former patients happen on the regular.

(It better not – Eddie doesn't do well in competitive settings.)

Max, keen eyes darting between them, asks, "You know each other?"

"Met at work," Steve says. "Or, I was working and he…"

"Ah." Max taps her temple. "That."

"How do you know them?" the boy asks her.

She points at Eddie. "Neighbor. And that's the guy who dumpster dives outside our apartment building."

Gareth flips her off. Eddie would laugh, but he's busy pretending he doesn't know what Steve looks like shirtless. It's hard (pun slowly growing more relevant) – his gaze keeps dropping to the polo's undone top button. Steve is just as gorgeous out of uniform, and now Eddie's thighs are tingling with want. He could stare at him forever…

Unfortunately, 'forever' is cut short by a woman arriving in a flurry. Wait, no. 'Flurry' implies some sort of graceful whimsy, while this person… she's a hurricane crashing into a house.

"Sorry I'm late! Nielsen wouldn't stop talking and got angry when people started leaving because it's an important lecture so this girl called him out for not keeping time because he goes on all these tangents and he said they're interesting tidbits and she said it's disrespecting our time and-" She pauses for breath. "You don't care, do you?"

Max, Steve, and the boy shake their heads.

"Right. Sorry." The woman turns to Eddie and Gareth. "Hi! I'm Robin. And you are?"

"My neighbor and his friend. Steve treated his concussion," Max rattles off, glaring at them. "You didn't answer my question: why are you here?"

Gareth frowns. "I told you," he says, pointing at the building. "School." He points at himself. "Student."

Max glares harder. "You don't have class on Tuesdays. And Eddie doesn't go here at all."

"I had stuff I needed to drop off."

"Is tagging along a crime? Jesus."

Max doesn't reply, though her glare remains.

Robin hums. "Okay, so this is super-enjoyable, I love just standing around, but I'm starving, so…" She looks at Steve, who nods.

"Yeah, we're going," he says, but neither moves. He glances at Eddie, which makes her glance at Eddie, and then they make a series of eyebrow-movements at each other, ending in a shared smile. Steve asks, "Have you guys eaten yet?"

Eddie shakes his head, pulse racing. Is this going where he thinks it is?

"D'you wanna come with? There's this diner we like…"

Holyshityesitis!

"Yeah!" Fuck, too eager. "I mean, uh, sure, sounds good."

"Cool." Grinning, Steve clicks a remote car key; the burgundy BMW beeps. What the fuck? How high is a paramedic's salary?! "Did you drive here?"

"I, uh…" Eddie falters. Shit, wasn't he supposed to? It's been three weeks and he feels fine – he thought he was in the green!

"Nope! I did!" Gareth says, 'proving' it by hauling his house keys from his pocket and jingling them.

Steve nods. "Should be safe for you to drive again, but the less strain you put on your brain, the better. Even a mild concussion isn't anything to sneeze at."

"Y-Yeah, I've been taking it easy. Basically done nothing. Until now."

Max snorts. Eddie is going to pour coffee through her mail slot.

They decide Eddie and Gareth will follow Steve's car to the diner, since Steve can't fit all of them (the real reason he asked if they drove here, duh). It's good because Eddie gets the chance to panic/gush/collect himself in the privacy of his van. It's bad because Gareth drives, lest their fib be revealed. Gareth spends the ten-minute journey gloating about driving Eddie's beloved girl, interspersed with 'I told you so!'s.

The diner is cozy, all wooden furniture and sepia photographs on the walls. A graying waitress who smells like tobacco directs them to a booth and takes their orders. An awkward silence then falls as they wait for someone to speak.

The boy clears his throat. "My name is Lucas, by the way. I don't think I said." After shaking his hand and introducing themselves, Lucas says to Eddie, "I think Max has mentioned you."

"Oh yeah? I've been dying for her to mention y- Ow!"

Eddie rubs where Max kicked his shin. Her glare is murderous. Lucas is blushing happily, though.

"So, what d'you guys do?" Robin asks.

Right. Time to small-talk like adults. Eddie gets his job as a mechanic out of the way, then gives the word to Gareth, who tells them he's a creative writing major. Robin turns out to be getting a masters in linguistics and Lucas studies biology.

"I don't actually know what I want to do, but biology feels broad enough to give me options, y'know? I can go to med school, or forensics, or, I don't know, paleontology?" he says. Max glows brighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Cute.

This then segues into talking about their friends, who by the sound of it lead incredibly interesting lives.

"Dustin's at MIT, Mike's at Oxford, Will's in San Francisco…" Lucas says, counting on his fingers.

Max interjects, "El's in Africa building houses and teaching kids English."

"Erica is still at home, finishing high school and drowning in early acceptance letters to, like, every Ivy League there is," Steve says with a look of pure pride.

"Nancy and Jonathan – they're our age – are chasing scoops in Afghanistan… " Robin says.

"... and Argyle is also in California," Lucas finishes.

Eddie whistles. "And here we are, still in Indianapolis."

"Dude, I'm surprised I got this far," Steve says. "Wouldn't've managed without her."

He jerks a thumb in Robin's direction, who preens at the acknowledgment. Robin's cool, Eddie decides. Garrulous but fun and nice… and verrrrrrrrry close to Steve. The kind of close where they're always in each other's space. Where they wordlessly transfer food between their plates. Where Steve unceremoniously wipes a speck of ketchup off Robin's chin after she repeatedly fails to get it. They're comfortable, but not necessarily romantically affectionate. Like they're siblings rather than lovers.

(Dear God, if you are in heaven, let them be siblings.)

Conversation flows. They joke around, tell stories, swap opinions. Robin gets passionate about tonal shifts when stage shows are adapted to film, and Eddie tries not to stare at Steve's mouth as he eats. And then, once their plates are cleaned and they're waiting for dessert, Gareth leans his elbows on the table and fixes Steve with a purposeful look.

"I figured out where I've seen you before."

Eddie stiffens.

Steve blinks. "At campus, right?"

"Thought so, but no. I realized it's actually…" Gareth chuckles. "It's ridiculous, but uh, my mom had this calendar…"

Steve recoils, red flooding his face. Robin, Lucas, and Max shriek in delight, Robin grabbing Steve's arm and shaking it as he hides behind his hands.

"And my mom," Gareth says between bursts of laughter, "she's shameless, all right? She kept it in our kitchen. So during, what was it, November?"

"November," Steve confirms, muffled.

"For 30 days, if I wanted to check the date or make a notation… I saw you."

Tears stream down Robin's face, she's laughing so hard. She and Max have started chanting 'Slut! Slut! Slut!' at the still crimson Steve.

"You don't understand," Lucas says, gesturing for emphasis. "We've been waiting for someone to come up and say 'hey, weren't you…?' for years. Thank you so much!"

"Hey, thank my mom," Gareth says. Eddie's quite stunned he'd throw his own mother under the bus like that. She's a really nice person, too!

"Makes sense," Max says. "Moms love Steve."

"All parents do," Lucas says.

Cackling, Robin pinches Steve's cheek. "Gotta hide your mom and your dad around Steve!"

Steve bats her off, flushed but smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got your wish, now shut it."

That only makes the three restart the chant to ridicule him for his harlotry. Steve's indignant squawk that 'it was for charity!' merely has everyone laugh more.

And Eddie? Well. As he sits beholding this man who works as a paramedic and drives a luxury car, who models for charity and allows his friends to mock him for it, who blushes and giggles when they lovingly call him a whore…

All Eddie can think is that he's in fucking trouble.

Afterward, it only makes sense for Eddie to drive Max home. Steve shakes his hand outside the diner, saying it was nice to see him again. Eddie, not knowing how to ask for Steve's contact info without seeming weird, agrees. He waits until the BMW drives off, then tells Gareth to get the fuck out of his seat. Gareth relocates to the backseat, whining since Max already called shotgun.

The initial minutes, they're quiet. Then Max turns to Gareth and says:

"When were you telling me Eddie is your mom?"

"Huh?"

"You said you knew about the calendar because of your mom. But that's not true."

The warmth drains from Eddie's face; his knuckles crack around the steering wheel. Gareth's expression is the epitome of 'oh shit' when he meets Eddie's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes, it is," Gareth says.

"It's not," Max says.

"It is!"

"It's not! The calendar was for 2021, and in November '21 you were a freshman and had already moved into the dorms! If your mom kept it in her kitchen, you wouldn't have seen it!"

She scowls at Gareth, mouth pinched and eyes flashing, daring him to contradict her.

Gareth swallows thickly. "It… wasn't for 2021."

"Yes, it was."

"How do you know?"

She puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, almost primly. Eddie gasps as the penny drops.

Gareth screams, "WHAT!"

"You have it?" Eddie cries. "Why do you have it?"

She scoffs. "You know why – you've seen his pecs."

"I don't- Okay, how're you so sure it's me?"

"Because you spent all of dinner looking like you wanted to crawl inside his mouth and live there." Her nose wrinkles. "At least I hope it was his mouth you want to crawl into-"

She's cut off by Gareth shouting "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala-"

Eddie crumples in his seat. He's depleted of blood, air, life, everything. Behind, Gareth is grilling Max for information: are Steve and Robin together? Is Steve single? Is he queer?

Max replies: no, yes, and 'that's not for me to tell, moron'.

Gareth nods, satisfied. "That means he is. If he was straight, you'd say so." He slaps Eddie's arm. "You got a shot, man!"

"You… don't know that…" Eddie wheezes.

Max tuts, shaking her head. "You actually want to hit on my chauffeur."

"He prefers the term 'seduce'," Gareth says.

Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel at the next red light.

------------------------------

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @olivethenerd16, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll,

I won't be adding more to the tag list because there are already so many of you. Instead, I'll be tagging the four remaining parts (it'll definitely be seven in total, btw) as #steddie fic: november paramedic. Hopefully, they'll show up in the tags and you'll see them that way.

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part 4

Waiting for Love - Part One

He’s a Married Man

I felt inspired and started a brand new series! It’s a bit different from anything else I’ve done, and I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback! ❤️

Content: Story starts in summer of 1970, marriage problems, infidelity, smut (lighter in this first chapter but still there), fun Elvis-y things, 18+

Early July 1970

Vivien walked slowly past the Graceland gate on her way home from work. She always told herself that if she didn’t actually stop and wait, she wasn’t one of those crazy obsessed fans. She was just a normal curious person. Who walked five blocks out of her way every day in a pathetic attempt to catch a glimpse of Elvis Presley. There were a few other fans milling about, but it was too hot for a huge crowd. Right as she was about to cross over the driveway entrance, a big black car came roaring down the street, barely slowing to turn into the drive where the gate was starting to open. Vivien’s jaw dropped open as Elvis himself leaned out of the passenger window with a big smile.

“Hey, honey, didn’t mean ta scare ya. Got a crazy driver here,” he said, pointing a thumb over at the stocky man behind the wheel. Elvis gave Vivien a quick glance up and down and smiled again. “Were ya waitin’ for me?”

Vivien smoothed out her knee-length skirt and quickly glanced down to make sure none of the buttons on her short-sleeved blouse had popped open. She was always having trouble with that third one down. The one that would reveal the most, of course. So far, so good. “Oh, um,” she stumbled over her words. “I, um, was walking home from work, but it is nice to see you though.” Her face turned red as Elvis chuckled.

“It’s nice ta see you too, honey. It’s too hot ta be sittin’ out here talkin’, but why don’t ya come to the movies with us t’night,” he said it as more of statement than a question. “A group of us are goin’ to the Memphian. Just come in the side door at 10:00 and say Joe invited you.” The driver rolled his eyes at this, but neither Vivien nor Elvis seemed to notice.

Vivien tried in vain to keep her cool as she exclaimed, “Oh, wow, okay, I’d love to.” As she pushed her glasses up on her nose, she made eye-contact with Elvis right as he was also adjusting his own tinted glasses. They both laughed, and Elvis gave her a little wink.

“Okay, honey, I’ll see ya t’night,” he called out as the car continued up the winding driveway. Vivien was pretty sure her smile was lighting up the whole city as she continued her walk home.

As soon as she got inside her apartment, she picked up the phone. “Roxanne, I need you to come over right now. It’s a fashion emergency.” Ten minutes later, her best friend arrived at the door from her apartment two buildings down, panting and out of breath.

“I got here as fast as I could! What’s going on? Hot date?” Roxanne asked as she barged in and flopped on the couch.

Vivien bobbed up and down excitedly as she squealed, “I’m going to the Memphian with Elvis Presley!”

“What?! When?!” Roxanne exclaimed, jumping up from the couch and then sinking back down onto it in shock.

“Tonight! I told you my walking by the gate every day would pay off eventually,” Vivien announced triumphantly. “And you have to go with me! I’m sure he wouldn’t mind; he said it would be a big group.”

Roxanne’s face dropped a little bit. “I can’t tonight!” she wailed. “Michael made us reservations for this fancy anniversary dinner, and he’ll kill me if I bail on him. Especially for another man. I’ll just have to live vicariously through your stories about the night,” she sighed dreamily.

“Has it been one year already? I didn’t know you had it in you,” Vivien teased.

“Oh, very funny, goody two-shoes,” Roxanne retorted. “At least I’ve had something in me.” Vivien blushed at that dig. She’d always been holding out for something really special. “Speaking of that,” Roxanne continued, “are you gonna try to hook up with him tonight?”

“Who? Elvis?” Vivien asked with shock.

“No, the pope. Of course Elvis! He invited you personally, he probably thought you looked cute in your little secretary outfit,” Roxanne said with a knowing wink.

“N-no, he-he’s a married man,” Vivien sputtered out. “I’m just excited to be around him and maybe talk to him. I bet he’s so interesting to talk to.”

“Hmm,” Roxanne tutted disapprovingly. “Well, I think you should go for it. I heard that marriage has been on the rocks since the beginning anyway,” she said as Vivien shot her a look. “I’m just saying, you could be waiting in the wings. Now let’s find you something to wear.”

*************************************************

At 9:55pm, Vivien stepped off the bus two blocks from the theater, feeling severely overdressed in a low-cut sparkly cocktail dress and red kitten heels, her wavy dark brown hair pulled back off her face with a jeweled hair clip. Well, that’s what she got for asking Roxanne’s advice. She should’ve known she’d be sent out into the world looking like a good-time girl. Roxanne also told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was not to wear her glasses. Despite the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see the movie, or probably even recognize Elvis from across the lobby, she followed the advice and tucked them in her purse before heading toward the side door of the theater as instructed.

A red-headed man was acting as some sort of security guard right outside the door. Vivien told him she was invited by Joe and he held the door open for her to go in. She was surprised to find that the side door led directly into the darkened theater. Patton was just starting. She squinted down the aisle looking for any familiar faces but found nothing, so she nervously sat down in an empty seat, wondering if she would even see Elvis at all. Her nerves, plus the fact that everything on the screen looked fuzzy, made it hard to even focus on what was happening in the movie. She decided to sneak out to the lobby and see if the concession stand had anything that might settle her stomach, which had been doing flip-flops since she stepped off the bus. She rose and quickly scurried down the aisle, trying not to block anyone’s view of the movie.

Vivien pulled her wallet out of her purse to pay for her 7-Up and noticed she had brought a copy of Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet, one of her favorite books. She decided maybe she’d just find a spot to sit and read until the movie was over. Maybe she could catch Elvis’ attention on his way out. She wandered the little lobby looking for a spot to sit and ran right into Elvis coming out of the bathroom. His driver from earlier was standing next to the door. Vivien thought maybe she imagined it, but it looked like Elvis’ face lit up when he saw her.

“She is here!” Elvis turned to Joe and glared at him. “I told ya ta bring her ta sit with me when she got here.”

“I told Red to let me know when she got here! I said she had long dark hair and glasses…” Joe’s voice trailed off as he realized Vivien no longer matched his description.

Elvis started laughing as he realized what the problem was. “Why’d ya take your cute glasses off, honey? How’s anyone supposed ta find ya?”

Vivien smiled shyly. “Bad advice from a friend, I guess,” she said, fishing in her purse for her glasses. “Plus I didn’t know you’d be looking for me.”

“Hey, whatcha got there? The Prophet?” Elvis asked excitedly, noticing the book peeking out of her purse.

“Oh, yeah, I never go anywhere without a book,” Vivian admitted, feeling silly. Elvis looked at her, his eyes literally twinkling with delight.

“That’s one of my favorite books! You should come visit me tomorrow, I’d love ta talk to ya about it.” Elvis had now moved so close that their arms were touching. Vivien could hardly breath, so intoxicating was his presence.

“Are-are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, I’d love to talk to you more, but I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition, honey, I’m always up for some good conversation. Plus the guys’ll be busy tomorrow, right, Joe?” Elvis gave him a pointed look, letting him know they should make themselves busy. “I’ll be wantin’ some company. You don’t want me sittin’ there all lonely, do ya?” Vivien felt goosebumps raise on her skin as Elvis ran the backs of his fingers down her upper arm.

“No, of course not,” she whispered, suddenly unsure of exactly what he was asking. “I’d love to keep you company.” She felt embarassed at how flirty she was being with this married man, but she also couldn’t seem to stop smiling at him. It was all so surreal. Elvis pulled her in a for a tight hug, his arms wrapped all the way around her so that his fingers were brushing along the sides of her breasts. The affection he displayed had her weak in the knees.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow, honey. Come by around three. After breakfast,” he smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek. He started to walk away and then quickly turned back, asking, “What’s your name, dear? In case ya try ta go incognito again.”

“Vivien,” she said with a smile. “What’s yours?” Elvis tilted his head back and let out a loud burst of laughter before walking away. Vivien was floating so high that she almost didn’t wonder why he no longer wanted her to come sit with him. She supposed he’d found a new seat mate when he thought she wasn’t there. Maybe his wife?, she wondered. But then why would he be looking for me?

After the movies were over, Vivien hoped to say goodbye to Elvis again, but he was surrounded by fans, and she felt silly interrupting. She observed that he was affectionate with almost everyone, and worried she had read way too much into their conversation. Does he even really want me to come over? Since he had insisted, she decided it would be rude to not show up, but she tried to get her expectations in check. Plus, he’s a married man, she reminded herself.

*************************************************

The next day was Saturday, thank goodness, because Vivien had given no thought to her work schedule when agreeing to these outings. She wondered if Elvis even kept track of the days of the week like normal people had to. She had already decided not to call Roxanne until she got back from Graceland later. She didn’t want anyone else’s thoughts getting in her head; she was confused enough on her own. Unsure of what to wear or how fancy she should look, she decided to just be comfortable in some black capri pants and a red and white striped shirt that hugged her body in the way she liked. She slipped on some sandals, grabbed her book and purse, and headed out the door.

It was much more pleasant outside than it had been the day before, which was a relief. Vivien thought how awkward it would be to show up with sweat dripping down her face. Whoever was at the gate must have been expecting her, because they opened it right away and told her to just knock on the front door. Elvis answered the door himself, wearing crisp white pants and a satin-y red shirt with arm garters. His feet were bare, which made her heart flutter for some reason.

“Vivien! Perfect timing! I just finished gettin’ dressed,” he smiled. “Come on in.” He led her into a beautiful living room with a massively long couch. She noticed a framed photo on the coffee table of him, Priscilla, and their cute little daughter.

“You have a beautiful family, Elvis,” she commented when he noticed her staring at the picture.

“Oh, thanks,” he said, sounding a little dismissive of the compliment. “‘Cilla’s out of town right now. She went to visit her parents with Lisa.” He seemed to be answering a question that had been hanging in the air, unasked. Vivien just nodded and tried to look like this fact didn’t both excite and worry her.

“I brought my book. Is there any particular chapter you wanted to talk about?” she asked, hoping to guide the conversation away from absent spouses.

“All of it!” he said excitedly. She noticed he had a copy sitting on the coffee table as well. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable, honey. You can take your sandals off and just set your feet here.” He indicated the space on the couch next to him. Feeling a little self-conscious, Vivien curled up so that she was leaning slightly away from him but her bare feet were next to him. While they talked, Elvis would occasionaly rest his hand on her ankle or rub his fingers absent-mindedly over the top of her foot. It was very soothing. He didn’t seem to be aiming for anything more, just a soft, gentle affection. When the phone rang, he excused himself and said he’d be right back. He seemed slightly agitated when he returned.

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Vivien questioned, noticing his tense demeanor.

“Yeah, honey, ever’thing’s fine,” he drawled. The butterflies in Vivien’s stomach flew into overdrive at the way the word “honey” always dripped off his tongue like the sweet sticky substance itself. Elvis sighed and continued on without any prompting, unable to keep his frustration to himself. “It’s jus’ ‘Cilla, she’s always got-got-gotta be so suspicious of me,” he vented, his irritation clearly growing. “She c-c-can’t believe I’d jus’ be talkin’ ta someone about books and stuff that she’s not even interested in. It’s always gotta be somethin’...nefarious with her,” he emphasized each syllable of “nefarious” and rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned back next to Vivien on the couch.

She swallowed nervously and nodded, trying not to be distracted by the way his chubby penis flopped loosely against his thigh when he leaned back, clearly uncontrained by any underwear. She actually wasn’t sure if it was chubby, but it looked like it would be, and she’d been sneaking enough glances at it to feel like she had an idea of what it would look like if he exposed it to her…Vivien was pulled out of her less-than-wholesome thoughts by the realization that Elvis had followed her eyes down to his lap and seemed to be reading her thoughts as if they were comic strip bubbles showing next to her head. Instead of the bravado he sometimes exuded, Vivien was surprised to see him blush and rest his hand on his lap in a way that blocked her view.

“W-w-where were we?” he stuttered, thumbing through the well-loved pages of The Prophet, pretending not to notice the way Vivien’s racing heartbeat seemed to make the whole couch shudder with desire.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Vivien blurted out against her better judgment, causing Elvis to look up in surprise, his mouth slightly agape. “I mean,” Vivien began to ramble nervously, “if I were, um, if you and I, I mean,” she fought back at the tears of embarassment that were welling up in her eyes and started again. “If I had you, I wouldn’t probably like you talking to another woman much either,” Vivien cringed at her awkward wording. “I’d want you all to myself all the time, especially to talk about things you’re so passionate about,” she finished with a whisper, looking down nervously at her red-painted fingernails.

Elvis nodded his head slowly, considering her words. “W-w-well, ‘Cilla ain’t like that though. She ain’t interested in these things. Sometimes I feel we have nothin’ in common…” his voice trailed off sadly as he seemed to be contemplating all his life decisions in this moment. Then his soft lips tugged up into a crooked smirk and he looked over at Vivien slyly. “How often do ya think about havin’ me?” The bravado was back.

Sneaking just the tiniest peek back down at his crotch, Vivien racked her brain for a witty answer that wouldn’t sound ridiculous and came up with nothing. “It sure looks nice out,” she quickly changed the subject with a glance out the window.

“It sure does, honey,” Elvis chuckled. “We should take a break from the book and go for a swim.” Vivien flushed at the thought of seeing Elvis’ body in just some swim trunks.

“Oh, um, I don’t have a swimsuit with me,” she explained as he sized her up appraisingly.

“That’s okay, dear, I think I have somethin’ for ya,” he said, jumping up and hurrying upstairs. He came back five minutes later with a beaming grin and a little red and white polka dot bikini. “I bet this’ll fit ya okay.” Something in his cheeky grin told Vivien that he wouldn’t be too upset if it didn’t fit quite right. It looked very tiny.

“Oh, Elvis, I can’t wear your wife’s swimsuit,” Vivien protested, but he had clearly already made his mind up.

“It-it’s fine, honey, she ain’t gonna miss it. She had ten of ‘em up there, brand new, I jus’ cut the tags off.” Elvis grabbed her hand and pulled her along to the room leading out to the pool area. He nodded to the changing area and told her to just meet him out at the pool when she was ready. Vivien wriggled herself into the little suit and nervously eyed her reflection in the full-length mirror. Everything essential was covered, but a soft little roll of skin was squeezing out from the suit bottom, her butt felt too exposed, and her breasts were spilling out slightly from the molded cups on top. She bit down on her lip, trying to make a quick decision. If she got right in the water, the ill-fitting suit wouldn’t be too noticeable. She decided it would be much more embarassing to have to get dressed again and go tell him that the suit was too small.

Elvis let out a low whistle from his lawn chair as soon as she stepped outside. So much for sneaking right into the water, Vivien thought as Elvis jumped up and circled around her. Her heart started racing at the sight of him in little red swim shorts and a striped shirt. She sinfully wondered if there was any chance of something flopping out the bottom of the shorts.

“Damn, baby, I like the way you fill that suit out,” Elvis murmured as his eyes stayed a second too long on her overflowing bikini top.

“It’s a little too small,” Vivien couldn’t stop herself from pointing out.

“Nah, honey, it looks perfect.” That crooked smile sent the butterflies on another flight. “Now the rule is, to enter the pool, ya have ta go off the diving board,” Elvis announced with a mischievous smile.

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Vivien responded, thinking of all the body parts that could come flying out of her suit upon impact with the water.

“C’mon, Vivien,” he teased, giving her bare sides a little tickle with his long warm fingers. Her skin felt on fire from his touch. “Don’t be a party pooper. I’ll even go first!” He peeled off his t-shirt, causing a strange tingle to shoot through Vivien’s core, tossed it aside, and sprang into a messy dive, his long legs flailing a bit in the air. He surfaced, spitting water in the air like a fountain and beckoning her to come in. Vivien set her glasses on a little table by the chair, walked gingerly until her toes were at the edge of the diving board, took a deep breath, and plunged in, hoping for the best.

As she came up for air and pushed her dripping wet hair out of her face, she caught the flustered look on Elvis’ face that made her realize that her fear had come true. She glanced down to where his eyes were fixated on her chest, his lips hanging open slightly as his tongue subconciously slipped out and licked them. Vivien let out a little yelp when she saw that one of her nipples had escaped out of the bikini top and she quickly moved to tuck it back where it belonged. She covered her face in embarassment as Elvis swam closer to her. He pulled her hands down from her face and drew her into a gentle hug.

“Hey now, honey, ‘s okay. I wasn’t even lookin’...too much,” he said, trying to stifle a laugh as Vivien swatted at him.

“It’s not funny, Elvis, I’m embarassed,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye.

“Aw, honey, you ain’t never gotta be embarassed around me. And it’s jus’ us here, okay? Good thing all the guys had errands to run today, ‘cuz I want ya ta save that show only for me, okay?” Vivien finally smiled a little at that and nodded. “Would it make ya feel any better ta see my nipples?” Elvis joked, pushing his chest out in an exaggerated fashion. Vivien laughed and blushed as she eyed his torso, willing her eyes not to keep going down further, but that little trail of hair leading down past his belly button was just so enticing. “Hey, my nipples are up here,” Elvis teased, catching her under the chin with his tanned fingers. Vivien’s head was swimming at how flirtatious things had gotten since she’d admitted that she had thought of… “having him.” He’s a married man…hold it together, Vivien, she whispered inside her head. As if sensing her nervousness, Elvis quickly changed the subject, pulling her over to lean against the wall of the pool. “I’ve been talkin’ your ear off all day about my problems. Tell me somethin’ about you, honey.”

“Um, well, I’m 21, I work as a secretary at a law firm, I was named after Vivien Leigh,” she started out tentatively, wondering how much Elvis was really interested in anything about her life.

“Really? Vivien Leigh?” he exclaimed, his rapt attention giving her the confidence to continue.

“Yeah, my mom really loved Gone With the Wind,” she said with a laugh. As she talked about her family, Vivien took note of how Elvis’ eyes and nose crinkled up so cutely when he laughed, how the drying hair of his sideburns curled up and tucked into his ears, how the hint of gray at his temples sparkled in the sunlight. As he reached over and brushed a stray hair out of her face, a little shiver ran through her body.

“Is the wa-wa too cold, honey?” he asked, looking concerned. “Lemme help ya onto the ledge here so you can warm up in the sun.” He lifted Vivien onto the ledge and leaned in between her legs as he sat her down. “That better?” She nodded and her breath caught in her throat as she stared down into his sparkly blue eyes. “Vivien, you are beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in and pressed his pillowly lips to hers, slipping his tongue gently into her mouth. As he moved his lips down to the soft skin of her breast that was spilling out of the bikini top, her brain was screaming at her to stop him, but she couldn’t stop her body from responding to his every touch. He pulled the cup down a little bit, popping her nipple back out into the warm sunshine. Vivien let out an involuntary little gasp as he touched his tongue to her nipple and then sucked it into his mouth. As he rubbed his thumb over the saliva he left on it, he whispered, “See you ain’t gotta feel bad around me at all, honey. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He tucked it back into her top before leaning his head down and kissing her thigh. “Mmm, honey, you are drivin’ me crazy in this little suit. I see your cute little beaver wants ta come out and visit me,” he murmured as his fingers traced up Vivien’s inner thighs and rubbed gently at the dark wiry hairs escaping from the elastic of the bikini bottoms. Elvis hooked his long index finger into the elastic and tugged it to the side. He let out a groan as he slipped his fingers through the wetness. “You’re glistenin’ for me, Vivien,” he said with a smile.

“Elvis, I, um, ohhhh,” Vivien let out a load moan as Elvis slipped a finger inside of her. He tried to pump it, but her whole body seemed to tense up and his finger was meeting too much resistance. “Elvis, I’m sorry, um, I’m,” she started to explain her embarassing lack of experience, but Elvis shushed her gently. He straightened her suit out and pulled her back into the water, into his arms.

“Shh, ‘s okay, honey. You’re a good girl ain’t cha? I can feel it,” he whispered as he rubbed her back soothingly. “We ain��t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“It’s, it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just, um, I care about you Elvis. I don’t want to be something nefarious for you. I want to be something good.” Elvis looked a little shocked and - delighted maybe? - that someone would care enough about him to reject him, in a way. There was a warm glow on his face as he looked at Vivien tenderly.

“Can we jus’ be friends for now then? I really love talkin to ya, honey,” he said softly. “And, like I said, we ain’t gotta do anything you ain’t ready for. I jus’ want your company.”

Vivien nodded and looked up into his eyes. “I’d love to be friends. I think you’re a really special person,” she added, causing Elvis to blush.

After they were dressed and saying their goodbyes, Elvis promised to give her a call to come back and talk about the book some more. He leaned down and pressed a soft sweet kiss to her lips. “Not nefarious, just friendly,” he whispered as he pulled away with that lopsided smile. Vivien smiled and nodded, even as the gentle poke from something firm and definitely chubby below his belt told her that wasn’t quite true. And next time, she wasn’t sure she’d have the wherewithal to stop him from exploring her in any way he wanted. She walked away from the mansion feeling giddy, confused, thrilled, and terrified.

Tag List (please let me know if you want to be added or removed): @whositmcwhatsit @lookingforrainbows @arrolyn1114 @thatbanditqueen @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love

Now asking: how do you think would be Edd's relationship with the kids post-BPS, who seems to be the least commented and speculated. In the show proper we see the kids like and tolerate Edd the most and Edd is fairly nice and gentle to them, but he never seemed that interested on making friends with them compared to Eddy or even Ed. I guess every one in cul-de-sac living in peace always had been Edd's dream, but he don't seem to have so much in common with them nevertheless. I guess he could form a genuine, close bond with Nazz, Jimmy (and who know, Sarah), but his relationship with Rolf and Jonny always is somewhere between either being ''neutral friendly'' or just undefined. Ideas?

(Unpopular headcanon: I think would be really funny if Kevin and Eddy ultimately perceive how much in common they do have, would get closer and closer, and become best friends... and Edd would be somewhat jealous or resented of this, like shovelchin had kind of ''stole'' his best friend. Quite unlikely, but a really funny scenary on my mind).

yeah i personally don't think edd has much interest in being friends with most of the other kids on any meaningful level. he and jimmy's friendship could very well continue to grow after bps, but i don't see him making an effort to hang out with kevin, jonny, rolf, sarah, etc. he and rolf would be semi-friends because he's intrigued by rolf's culture and rolf has always been pretty decent to the eds. plus he's good friends with ed. jonny is also ed's buddy but edd still finds jonny kind of unbearable and keeps his distance. edd and kevin have their own drama (see below) and don't get along, and he flat out just doesn't like sarah. but of course he's very personable when eddy drags him along to the occasional shindig.

he and may are friendly, again, mostly because of her relationship with ed. he and marie strike up a conversation when he notices that her interest in him has significantly diminished. edd (being the snob he is) is surprised to find that she's really smart and funny oh and gay. he's possibly the first person she tells bc she knows he's a good guy. lee on the other hand, doesn't trust him as far as she can throw him and thus does not like him.

edd and nazz flirt back and forth for a long time and eventually date in high school. my own hcs about it are still sort of being developed but i for sure think they'd date and possibly maintain or rekindle a friendship after they breakup. eddy doesn't care!!!!.... 😐 he just thinks it's funny that-

kevin and eddy do have stuff in common but not so much that i see them building a real friendship over it- certainly not long-term. eddy might end up redirecting his admiration for bro onto kevin after bps bc he does still crave that sweet validation from someone (older?) who he sees as cool, well-liked, masculine, has a giant chin, etc. he'd be disappointed again when being friends w kevin doesn't live up to his overly idealized expectations. during the time that they're being weirdly pally, edd is on standby waiting for the other shoe to drop. he just hates to say "i told you so", but does he really?

kevin revokes eddy's dork status and invites him to the get-togethers. at first it's out of pity for what he witnessed but he's shocked when eddy turns out to be fun to be around. eddy's not really interested in the things that kevin is (bmx, monster trucks, 60 minutes) but pretends to be so that he can fit in. and get jawbreakers.

but that's exhausting and they start to grow apart when eddy gets too comfortable and starts letting the less palatable parts of his personality come through, namely his irritability and bluntness. by high school they're on not-so-great terms again, in part due to the whole edd and nazz thing really pissing kev off. he expects eddy to do something about it, "tell double dickweed to stay away from nazz" type stuff.

Signing Back In, Apparently - 3

Prev/Next

It occurred to Scar it may have been too soon to start joking about his and Mumbo’s kiss when Mumbo phased through the wall of the tavern to get away from him. But it really occurred to him when he didn’t see a trace of Mumbo for the entire next week. He should have been glad; Mumbo being gone meant less back issues, but to his own disdain, he found himself keeping track of the days. All it took was a twinge of his bad eye or a particularly hard day to eat, and his mind would wander. Regardless, it took a little bit longer for Scar to realize that Grian knew.

To be fair, Grian had always been aggressive. It wasn’t unusual to see him scowl when they ran into each other, or to see Grian trying to throw things at him, usually unsuccessfully. However, Scar had been surprised to go back to his room and see Grian in his bed. See, each of the ghosts had a fun little quirk that would manifest in the real world, and Grian just so happened to be constantly dripping water. When Scar had first reached the faction isles, Grian would constantly hang around his bed to make the sheets wet; just another inconvenience to make Scar’s life a little bit harder. But Grian got bored a long time ago; he had to lay there for a while to really dampen things, so Scar had thought he was done. Apparently not.

Still, not that unusual. What was unusual however, was when Scar came back to his room to find the ouija board on the ground. He was pretty sure he’d had it securely on his shelf, and if he wasn’t being actively haunted, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it. He’d called Mumbo’s name, but of course, there was no response. Mumbo couldn’t move real world items anyway, not that Scar knew of at least.

When he found Grian standing over the ouija board, once more knocked to the ground, things started to click into place. Scar leaned against his own doorway, watching Grian try and stomp through the board, presumably trying to break it in two. Scar did hear a couple clicks of Grian’s shoe against the wood, but besides a footprint or two, he didn’t even leave a mark.

Scar inclined his head down the hall as Oli came upstairs, “Well hello there!” he bellowed, far louder than necessary. Grian screamed, easy enough to tell by the way he flailed before freezing completely. He looked almost cat-like the way he arched his back and stared with those bright eyes. How adorable.

“Scar! The seas treated you well today I hope?” Oli greeted him warmly, adjusting his monocle.

“Just wonderful! I nearly completed a quest, even! I’ll be raking in the gold in no time now.”

“Nearly? Why, I hope so! I’m off to bed now, so I’ll see you in the ‘morrow!”

“Yes. That. Goodnight then. If you hear me talking to myself by the way, don’t think too hard about it!”

“You know I will, Scar.”

“Great. Thanks,” Scar stepped inside his room, shutting the door behind him. “Alright, Grian, what’s this about.”

Grian straightened up, looking almost guiltily at the ouija board before turning his eyes back to Scar. Well, eye.

“You’ve been irritated all week haven’t you. I have a funny way of knowing these things,” Scar gestured to his own bad eye, “Now, don’t get too excited! These eye drops I got from the neighborhood doctor have been working miracles! You should try them!” A lie, of course. Nothing eased the discomfort of a curse, but Grian didn’t have to know that, “Oh wait, I guess you can’t, can you. Maybe if you channel that anger of yours, you can manage to get a couple drops in. Clearly you’ve been getting pretty good at it.”

Scar gestured to the floor. Grian bristled. “Did Mumbo tell you? This thing is pretty handy apparently.” Scar flipped the board right side up with his foot, examining carefully for any cracks. “Hardy as well. For how much time you spent stomping on this, you didn’t even damage it!”

Grian sat down, looking to Scar with a grim expectancy. Scar couldn’t stifle his laugh. “Oh, well Grian, I’m flattered! Really!” Scar sat down across from him, resting his elbows on the board, “But I’ll have to decline. I’m after another man at the moment. And you know.. I think he might like me back!” Grian’s body flared, his form shifting as if it couldn’t handle the weight of his anger.

One of his hands, usually formless, shifted into something like claws, snatching the planchette from off the board and whipping it at Scar’s face. It hit him square in the nose, sending Scar reeling back with a yell. His hands flew to his face, blood already running. Scar barked a laugh, the thrill of adrenaline lighting up his grin.

“Alright, Grian, how about round two then?”

Scar slammed the planchette back down on the board and Grian was on it in seconds. The thrill of the cold coursed through Scar, and he shifted the piece to the other side, unbalancing Grian before delivering a massive punch to the side of his head. Scar only heard a second of his shriek before Grian lost his grip on the planchette. Scar stood firm, kneeling with one foot planted on the ground for better positioning.

Grian, glared, a look so much deeper than anger, and his shifting form lunged again, this time, using both of his hand-claws to keep Scar’s own hand on the planchette. But Scar’s position was better, and he used his leverage to lift his arm from the board. Grian fell straight through him, hitting his face hard against the board. Scar exhaled a quick laugh of satisfaction. He stepped on the edge of the planchette where Grian’s hand still lay, and kicked with all the strength he could muster, sending Grian tumbling across his room.

“This is familiar, isn’t it?” Scar stepped forward, crossing the length of his room in just a few strides. Grian was almost unrecognizable now, just a mess of lines and ethereal glow. If Scar didn’t know any better, he’d say he looked almost bird-like. “You think you’d know better, trying to fight me like this. Maybe if you played the game smarter, you wouldn’t be dead.”

And then Grian screamed. The world flashed white as the bulb in his ceiling flared and then shattered, pelting Scar with glass. He didn’t remember falling, but when he came to, he was on the ground, flat on his back. He gasped for air that wouldn’t agree with him, he tensed muscles he couldn’t move, he opened eyes that couldn’t see.

The only thing he heard through the grating ring of his own ears was the sound of his own voice, screaming.

leave a trail of burnt things in my wake (every single place I go)

For @bloodgulchblog - this work is also on ao3

Smell can trigger memories and tap into long buried emotions. John is an expert at burying emotions, but he hit his limits months ago. An introspective piece inspired by discussion of the smell of cigar smoke and old friends long gone.

It's late when John heads back to Blue Team's quarters. Briefings, reports, responsibilities; all the things Team Leader is used to shouldering seem to weigh a little heavier these days. Bad news pours in from all sides and allies seem fewer and far between these days. There are new lines on everyone’s faces. Tightness in the way they move, smiles that don’t reach the eyes. It feels like the whole ship is holding its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for things to get worse, the next tragedy in the domino line of tragedies that humanity has been fighting for three decades.

Moving helps, he knows hypervigilance will be a drain in the long term, but thinking long term is new. It’s strange for aches to fade, scars to heal, joints to be sore and not in ignored agony. Living is a new kind of pain John is fighting to tolerate. It’s not something he’s sure he’ll get used to.

Restlessness is not a luxury he can usually afford, but aboard the Infinity is the closest he's felt to safe in a long time. The strange feeling coming from being surrounded by Spartans again. It still means he'll patrol if possible. It might garner him some extra looks from his team or even the captain when the man is able to corner him while they’re all aboard. The back to back missions dwindled only because John was overruled. He’s being watched - he knows it - spooks, Spartans, the brass, and anyone and everyone who recognizes the armor. His existence is an example, a beacon, and a warning.  

Yet they don’t stop his nighttime haunts. An olive branch perhaps, or maybe letting him have space - letting him walk through the nights with his ghosts. Even among his team, John doesn't want to spend any extra time in small rooms, and there's always work to be done.

He's not alone as he travels silently down gunmetal gray halls, but by this time most of the crew is changing shifts or used to Spartans moving. John's aware of how they look at him; the IIs move differently than the IVs but to the techs on their way to the hangars he's just another 7ft tall, 350 lbs of muscle to stay out of the way of.

Funny how being out of the armor helps him stay invisible.

There's movement down an auxiliary hallway that catches his eye, but he dismisses it when he sees troopers huddled together. It’s a familiar scene, one he’s witnessed time and again over his career in troop bays and shadowy corners, the handing off of contraband and the like. John pauses and notes the cameras, the vents, and the blindspots. Not amateurs then, though it's hard to tell these days. 

They all look so young.

John stills in the shadows and watches. There’s talking in low voices with some sporadic good natured bickering that gets shushed quickly. One of them shoves another off-balance; arms pinwheeling before they push back with a grin. His eyes catch flashes of packaging before it's shoved into pockets or down shirts and the group disperses. Tobacco gum, self-lighting cigarettes, and other nicotine sources disappear along with nondescript datachips and small flasks. They don't notice him - he would have lost his touch if they had - and the group splits off, nonchalance a little too forced. 

He'd make a comment, spook em a bit while he's this nameless Spartan who caught them. Pale as a ghost, mangled worse than some corpses. The old model, patched up over and over again. Some old, ugly sonuvabitch with weird eyes, too many scars popping out of the shadows wasn't a fun encounter, or so he'd been told.

At least he would have, if he didn't freeze in place as someone lit up and the too familiar smell of a Sweet William cigar hit his nose for the first time in over five years. 

The pungent odor - old boot-sock smoked over a dung-fire - hit him full force even if the marine smoking it was down the hall. The odor sat in his sinuses, and the scar on his chest hurt as he jerked away. It never felt like the skin grew back right, but then again it had never gotten the chance to fully heal; the Ark, the Dawn, and then everything after. 

It was like no time had passed. 

The squeak of the light cover flipping back, their thumb on the wheel. The ancient knowledge passed down to him that matches preserved the flavor more, but were hard to find and keep. Lighters were common - ceremonial - passed between brothers in arms or from father to son. John could still see Johnson’s engraved lighter in his mind’s eye.

He had known several people to have smoked those cigars - most of them were dead now. And with his luck, he was there when it happened.

There were a lot of memories tied up with that scent. Johnson, of course. He had always seemed to have them on him, always smoking so much John often considered commenting about him giving away their position with the stink of tobacco. He would have liked that; Johnson always liked when John pushed back. He’d smile around the cigar and raise his eyebrows, hum his approval, then return fire with a comment of his own. 

It was a scent that was tied to the man's presence, be it in a dropship, on the ground, or stopping by to drop off a tank. The first time John himself had tried one of the cigars, he had been 15 years old and ended up coughing so hard from the first draw that he reopened his neck wound. Butterfly bandages breaking under the strain as John wheezed and Avery laughed and took the cigar back, holding it away from his own oxygen cannula.

Johnson had shown him how to be a leader then - had backed him up and nodded when he got it right. John had carried those lessons with him for the rest of his life.

The smell of tobacco and dried flower was burned into his memory. Sweet William cigars had popped up throughout John’s service. Mendez had smoked them too, and Captain Keyes. 

Mendez had them in his desk drawer in his office on Reach. Halsey hadn't liked them, and like with most things, she would make her opinions clear. But that had been a lifetime ago. John didn't like to dwell on how he became what he was today. It was necessary, but the reminders of the human elements, the smoke drawing up old memories, made him uncomfortable.

He'd lived his whole life around foul-mouthed, paranoid, contraband-using marines and ODSTs. He had been honored to serve with those men and women. Tobacco was passed around as often as MREs no matter the campaign. It was familiar even after all this time.

Even Captain Keyes had his pipe, the lingering scent of tobacco on the bridge of the Autumn. Cigars weren't his main staple, but John had come to associate him among the men who smoked them.

It had been forever and only a few short months since he had been in the presence of a lit Sweet William.

His chest burns, something more than regrown skin over the burn scar. He leaves - as silently as he arrived.

The crewman continues to enjoy his contraband, smoke rising into the vent above, going to be scrubbed and recycled back.

Hi bestie!! I've been noticing a *SEVERE* lack of Skip content on Tumblr so if you're not too busy, could you please write a lil oneshot with Skip using the prompt "Wait, you think I'm cute?" please?? Thank you so much in advance!! 💖

Also this is a total side note but for some reason the song "Dandelions" by Ruth B just gives me major Skip vibes, like, a sunny day with your boyfriend who's also your best friend. Just adorable 🙈

I See Forever in Your Eyes

Warren "Skip" Muck x reader

A/N: Bestie, you are SO RIGHT 👏🏼 Skip is so underrated, and we're going to have to fix that 😉 Especially since I've been craving content for him ever since reading FOF and seeing him get into hijinks with Alix and Malarkey 😌 I hope you enjoy this one!

(As always, this is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: language, mentions of war

There’s nothing particularly amusing about asking someone to pass the shoe polish, but your bunkmate lets out a chuckle nonetheless as she tosses it to you.

“What’s so funny?”

Amy shakes her head, looking over your shoulder in the direction of the door. “Oh, nothing. Just that someone can’t seem to stay away from you – even when we’re in the women’s barracks.”

“Hiya, (Y/N)!” The bed beside you sinks as someone flops down onto it, bumping his shoulder into yours and almost causing you to drop the boots you’ve been diligently shining.

“Skip!” You scold. You smack him lightly on the arm, but there’s no malice in it. If anything, the gesture only serves to broaden the smile that already graces his lips. “You’re not supposed to be in the women’s barracks.”

Skips eyes widen. He glances around, placing a hand over his heart in mock shock as if he’s only just realizing where he is. “The women’s barracks?! I was looking for the latrine.” He shrugs. “Well, since I’m already here . . .” He leans back on the bed and flashes you a winning smile. “Guess who actually managed to keep their pass this week?”

“Talbert.”

“Nope.”

“Sisk?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Hmm . . . Well it certainly couldn’t be you for once, could it?”

“Ding ding ding – we have a winner!”

Now it’s your turn to feign shock. “No, really? However did you manage to hold onto it?”

“I was extra careful. But what about you? Did you manage to keep yours?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

Skip claps his hands together, a loud, happy staccato that echoes through the barracks. “Well then let’s cut a rug, jitterbug! We’re going dancing tomorrow night!” With that, he takes his leave from the barracks, leaving you smiling as you finish shining your shoes, and causing Amy to laugh.

“What’s so funny now?”

Your fellow paratrooper chuckles. “Oh, nothing. Just something about young love.” She laughs again when your boot slips out of your hand and tumbles onto the floor. She’s finished with her boots before you can collect yourself enough to ask what she means and to tell her that it’s not like between you and Skip.

No matter how much you may wish that it were.

--

Visiting English pubs on a weekend pass is far more fun than taking a weekend pass back in the States. Half of the fun is because hitting the town is different when you’ve got your polished jump wings displayed proudly on your chest and your pants bloused around your Corcoran boots. Strutting into a pub or a dance hall with an outfit that clearly proclaims I am a paratrooper – one of the elite! never fails to make things more interesting – whether because of the positive attention from the townspeople that lead to offers for dances and free drinks, or the negative attention from other service members that lead to gruff arguments and bloody noses. Never a dull moment with the right company in the right place.

As you push open the door of the pub and take in the sounds of music and laughter, part of you wishes that you were back in a dress like you would have been in the States. Then you could have done your hair and makeup and – even if for only a night – allowed yourself to pretend that you were a regular girl dancing with a handsome service member before he shipped off into combat. There’s still an elegance to showing off your uniform and impressing many with the fact that you are not only a paratrooper, but a part of the first female paratrooper program, though. It’s just different.

“(Y/N)!” A voice calls from across the pub. Through all the music and the jiving bodies, Malarkey has managed to spot your entrance. Hand clutching a drink and raised above his head to avoid a spill, the Oregon boy weaves through the crowd until he’s by your side. Your friend smiles, breathless. “Where ya been? We’ve been waiting all night!”

Playfully, you nudge his arm. “Awe, did you miss me, Malarkey?”

“Oh yeah, you know I missed my favorite dance partner.” In a single swig, he downs what’s in his glass and stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray on a nearby table. He offers you his hand.

“Oh no you don’t, Donnie Boy!” Skip slides between the two of you, ever present grin lighting up the room as he appears. “I do believe that I shall be having the first dance with lovely Private (Y/L/N).”

Malarkey takes a step back, hand over his heart. “Well Skipper, you could have at least had the decency to tell me that before I snubbed out my smoke.”

The look that crosses Skip’s face is one that you know all too well – he has an idea of some sort. The next thing that you know, he’s pushed you and Malarkey together and gives your friend a slap on the back. “Actually, you take this dance. I’ll grab the next one.” He recedes into the thicket of the crowd before you can question it.

A lively tune is struck up by the band, causing the energy in the pub to soar as you and Malarkey make your way to the dance floor, carving out a space for yourselves as you twirl and jump and laugh through the whole thing. You’re out of breath by the time that it ends, your cheeks sore from smiling so much. You applaud the band with everyone else as you wait for the next song to start.

“Alright, my turn,” Skip says, swaggering up to you and Malarkey. You’ve never understood how he manages to disappear and reappear from the crowd the way that he does, but he seems to fit in everywhere that he goes so well that you know it can’t be hard for him. He holds out his hand to you. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Not at all.”

The band’s next song starts up, much slower than the last. The mood of the crowd changes automatically, going from one of high energy and adrenaline to one of new love and desire as couples pair off onto the dance floor.

“Where did you go?” You question, casting a glance around the pub. “What lucky gal got that last dance with the pride and joy of Tonawanda?”

Skip chuckles. “Truth be told, no one did.”

“Oh?”

“No, I was too busy trying to request a song with the band.”

“And what song might that be?”

“This one.” Is it your imagination, or in the low lights of the pub, does your friend blush ever so slightly? Maybe he wonders the same thing about you as your hands grow warm against his. You might be in the dim lights and smokey atmosphere of the pub, but dancing with him feels like being surrounded by sunshine and cloudless skies on the perfect summer day. “I wanted to talk to you.”

There are better places to talk than the dance floor, but your heart is fluttering in your chest like a bird threatening to fly from the coop and you can’t find the words to question him. If the words would come to you, what would you even say?

“I’ve been thinking,” he pauses, like he’s waiting for you to crack the usual Thought I smelled smoke line that you, Penkala, and Malarkey are so apt to throw around. When your breath hitches in your throat instead, he bites his lip before continuing. “Fuck. I don’t wanna mess this up.”

“Mess what up?” Effortlessly, the two of you execute the spin that comes with the next line of the song. When you gravitate together again, like planets falling into alignment, you’re met with a worried expression on his face – something that looks unnatural on him.  

The next few bars of the song press on while silence floats between you. Worry – or something akin to it – settles into the little atmosphere between you. You keep waiting for him to say more as Skip’s eyes dance over everyone and anything else in the pub besides you.

“You’re one of my best friends.” His voice is soft, his eyes are sincere; he’s never looked more serious. “I don’t wanna mess that up when I tell you that I feel differently about you than other girls.”

You stumble on the next step. He catches your waist with ease. If this is going where you think it’s going . . . But you would hate to assume, and to assume incorrectly at that.

Skip rushes on. “It’s okay if you don’t feel that way. With the big jump finally coming up, I just wanted to make sure that you knew before we went, or else I would spend my whole life regretting that I didn’t tell you. And I know that might make the jump harder – “ He shakes his head, exasperated. “I swear I knew what I wanted to say when I started this.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, your words bringing his eyes back to you. “I think it’s cute when you ramble.”

Standing so close, it would be impossible to miss the way that his breath hitches in his throat. “Wait, you think I’m cute?”

“Well yeah.” There’s no use in denying it. Not when he’s allowed himself to be vulnerable instead of brushing things off with humor like he normally would. And not when the jump is sure to be soon. He’s right: it would be hard to go about life full of regret and wondering how different things could have been if you had made a different jump – a leap of faith into the game of chance that is sharing your truest and most sincere feelings with someone that you have so many tender feelings of affection for.

“Not just when you ramble,” you admit, fully committing now, heart beating hard in your chest. “You’re cute, Skip. I’ve always thought so.”

A tentative smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Well I’ve always thought that you were stunning.”

On instinct, you lean forward and fix your head against his chest, just like all the couples on the dance floor are doing. His hand secures itself more firmly on your waist. The little world around you is something that you’ve only imagined a handful of times, and never for long – there’s hardly a private moment in the Army, and you’ve never allowed yourself to get your hopes up.

But experiencing the real thing . . . You pray that you won’t blink to wake up and find that it’s all been a dream.

“What do we do now?” You whisper.

He squeezes your hand. “Whatever you want. We can give it a shot.”

“God, yes.” His chest rumbles as he chuckles at your enthusiasm.

All too soon, the song ends. Couples all over the dance floor slowly come out of their amorous haze and applaud the band. You can feel Skip looking at you. You gaze back at him, not quite ready to break the spell that’s settled over the two of you.

There is a war going on. You don’t know where it will take you. But you’re a paratrooper, and risk taking is part of the job. No one can know for certain what will happen, or how long this new thing will last between you.

Looking into Skip’s eyes, though, you can see his answer: forever, if you’ll allow it.

And you will. Of course you will.

A small fire burned in the princess' room in preparation for her eventual arrival. With her shoes already removed, Hibiko tossed her purse on the couch that caused a yelp came from fox accidentally being hit with the bag, and then one from the surprised princess. Rushing over to kneel on the floor in front of the couch, "Oooohh, I'm sorry!" She whined with a laugh under it, rubbing where she assumed the bag him. "I told you not to wait for me, I thought you would be gone." Hibiko made it clear she would be gone until late with friends, multiple of them, not a date.

She was ready to cuddle him back to health before "Wait wait wait- I need to change," and popped up to hide behind a screen. To put it gently, she was toasted. But to put it frankly, Hibiko was drunk. "I snuck you box of chocolates in my purse. But don't eat it as a fox! Foxes can't eat chocolate." It was tiny little box, unable to hold more than a few pieces.

Soon, with her hair still done and wearing makeup, but in sleepwear at least, Hibiko threw herself on the couch next to Marlo. "Now you may tell me about your day, darling. Do you like the chocolate? It's from," a pause, not long enough to properly think before rolling her eyes and waving a hand, "somewhere else, but I really liked them!"

@royaletiquette

A yap left his throat the moment he felt an object falling onto his fur. The sleepy fox’s head picked from the cushions and blanket, giving Hibiko a suspicious and annoyed look before he eventually understood that she was here to pamper him, and not demand the fox to leave her alone. With a yawn, he extrated himself out of his cocoon, extending his furry legs to get rid of the numbness. Of course he wouldn’t be gone! She was out with friends - she didn’t lie, right? - and she had left him all by himself, abandoned, cold and desperate! He was ready to be pampered in apologizes and other caresses, but before he could earn his well deserved hug, she giggled and disappeared behind her screen. 

Marlo huffed and eventually used his magic to switch back to his human form, even if it meant using a lot of his power for that. When Hibiko was back, wearing her sleepwear even if she was still having her hair done and her makeup on. He squinted when she dropped by his side, the smell of booze and other expensive wine tickling his nose; he even sneezed. "Heavens, you’re completely wasted! I thought you forgot I was here!” He gasped but immediately laughed, finding amusement the way her guard was down and her attitude far less serious than usual. What a beautiful change!

He observed her with passion, love, and deep interest. 

He welcomed her by his side, sliding away even if he rolled his arm around her shoulder. She smelled funny but it wasn’t bad. He was more interested in the box of chocolates presented in front of his eyes. He couldn’t refrain the blush invading his features - because she thought of him, she was gifting him something, for him - while he placed a soft kiss right on the top of her hair. “Ah... Food…” He whispered with a content giggle and immediately opened the box. In two bites, all the chocolate was gone and his lips were tainted in shades of brown. 

“Mpf… I had better. It’s not very good.” He said while he tossed the box away and nuzzled against her side. It was actually decent, but he wasn't delighted she had received that gift from someone else. He slowly caressed her hair, as he felt so loved, so adored because she was giving him attention. “I napped and I waited for you… I might have stolen food from the kitchen, but I bet they didn't see it. Your mother required some duck and veggies for tonight's dinner... Then I wandered around and I picked flowers. I chased a few naughty chicken for fun... I came back here because you promised to be home early. But you weren't! Your date with friends was long and I was bored... But I’m happy because you had a good time, even if I wasn’t here…”

He opened his palm, a golden wind moving inside for a moment before more chocolate appeared out of nowhere, crafted by his magic, covered in a copper powder, along with almonds, nuts, and other dry fruits. “Here, when I traveled the world a long time ago, I ate these chocolates. It’s better and richer on the tongue.” 

He sighed and felt comfortable enough. “I like you so much, sweet princess. So much I would let you break my heart.” Marlo purred lovingly.

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 22

Breakfast for View, Eye-lence Repr-eyes

Pairing: Alastor x F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes)

Chapter Summary: The morning after, you wake to find yourself in your night dress. Alastor is nowhere to be seen, but you hear noises from the kitchen. You get up to read the onslaught of texts from Velvette that she sent you the night before, clean your day dress, put it on, and greet Al for breakfast. Things get out of hand, as the manner in which you choose to insist that you attend the overlord meeting goes a bit too far.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Cannibalism

You blink awake in the early Hell light to find yourself under the covers in Alastor’s bed instead of your own. He is nowhere to be seen, but you hear noise in the other room. Angel will never let me hear the end of this, you think to yourself, but at least he’ll be happy for me.

You smell something delicious wafting in from the other room.

As you pull back the covers to put your day dress back on, you realize you’re in your nightgown, that he must have removed your shoes and dressed you in the night some time after you’d passed out naked in his arms. Despite last night’s activities, the fact that he took the time to dress you is what makes you flush.

You find your day dress, still soaked with blood, viscera, and sweat, draped over a chair. You pick it up to return it to its sheath shape and slip your hand into the non-subspace pocket to retrieve your phone. It takes far longer than usual for it to clean due to the fluids that you’d inflicted on it the night prior, so you put it back on the chair and look at your phone. Sure enough, there is a flood of texts from Velvette post-Vox breakdown.

Velvette: Vox is being a pissbaby again

Velvette: You gonna get over here and fix this or what

Velvette: You fuckin comin or what

Velvette: Seriously Theia this aint fuckin funny

Then, twenty minutes later,

Velvette: The power just fuckin went off

Velvette: Where’s my goddamn wifi

And then, a full half hour later,

Velvette: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!?!?!

Followed by a few hours later,

Velvette: You stupid bitch

Velvette: Hooking up with that fossil?!

Velvette: Ha! Don’t make me laugh

Then, this morning, only about an hour ago,

Velvette: You will regret this

You bark out a laugh and place it back in the non-subspace pocket, deciding messaging her back is a waste of your time, then you close your eyes and open the ones in Alastor’s rooms, curious for a distraction while you wait for your dress to clean.

Doing so makes your jaw drop. He’s in the kitchen wearing the apron he bought you over his usual suit, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, cooking something in a skillet, thus the delicious aroma permeating through the doorway to your nose. He’s humming, and the radio kicks on with some lively up-tempo song with which you’re unfamiliar.

“Ma très chère, if you’re observing me instead of coming out of the bedroom, know that while I take pleasure in your eyes on me, your breakfast is almost ready.” Alastor calls as he takes a spatula and stirs what he’s cooking on the skillet. Then, he focuses his gaze on one of the eyes you’re looking through, and you flush at being caught.

Closing the room’s eyes and opening your own, you slip out of your night dress and into your now-clean day one, then put on your shoes as you shape it into something fun and flirty, with full-length sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, pulled tight at the waist but loose on your hips. After, you exit his bedroom and out into the living room, then over to the kitchen.

“Did you enjoy the view, bien-aimée?” He asks as he hears you enter.

“You ask that as if I’m not enjoying it still.” You tease as you cross the kitchen towards him.

He turns off the stove and then to face you. You pull him into your arms, wrap a leg around his, and curl a hand behind his head to pull him in for a passionate kiss. When you break it, you nip at your mark on the underside of his chin with your teeth. “You’re so hot like this.” You purr. “All domestic and wearing my mark. It’s magnificent.”

“Keep this up, belle, and your breakfast will go cold.” He replies hoarsely as you kiss the mark this time.

Your stomach rumbles and you sigh. “I suppose I can be tempted by food instead.”

He kisses you again. “Don’t look so disappointed, ma très chère. There’s plenty of time later, you insatiable minx.” You swat at him playfully when he kisses your nose.

“You have no idea.” You purr at him, but take the plate he hands you, then leads you to the table. “So what’s the plan for today, Al? I assume Niffty told you in more detail about the strange room we discovered on the blueprints yesterday.” You say as he hands you a fork.

“I must admit I struggled to understand what she was going on about, as she was mostly just cackling the same phrase over and over again.”

“Let me guess.” You reply deadpan as you fork up some of your food. “Boring closet stuff.”

“Boring closet stuff.” he confirms as he takes a bite.

“Boring closet stuff.” You say again, wondering just how far you can take this bit.

“Boring closet stuff?” He queries, and you nod, fighting a giggle.

“Boring closet stuff.” You confirm.

“I don’t understand. Why would that be her take away from the discovery of a mysterious room on the blueprints?” He raises an eyebrow and takes another bite.

You chuckle, the bit broken. “It’s hard to explain. Basically,” You begin as you take your first bite, then lose all train of thought as you realize what he’s made for you. “Merciful Satan, this is delicious.” Upon closer inspection, it’s the leftovers from your roast with eyes, the eyes scrambled and the roast diced. He’s added some chopped peppers and onions and some spices. It’s cooked to perfection, and with the satisfying kick he’d mentioned he prefers. You take a moment to indulge in the flavor for a few bites before you continue. Alastor doesn’t comment on your satisfaction with his meal, but the look he gives you tells you he is filled with pride at having satisfied your palette while showing you his own, “Where was I? Oh right. Boring closet stuff.” You giggle. “So Niffty has been in this room once, to clean, but since she never looked at the contents of it, she has no idea what’s inside.” You take another bite as you continue. You savor it. He’s eating too, but he’s watching you, eyes half-lidded. “Everything is covered in large sheets of cloth and she never looked under them. She said she thought it was a ‘boring closet’. So the phrase kept getting repeated, and it annoyed Vaggie. Niffty thought it was hilarious, and it happened again when we told Husk, Angel, and Pentious. I have no idea why the phrase seems to lend itself so well to being repeated relentlessly, but it does.” You shrug. “There’s more I found that I didn’t disclose to Charlie.”

“Keeping secrets from our dear princess, are we, ma très chère?” He asks in between bites. You have no idea, Al, you think as he continues, “So what else did you see?”

“There’s a trapdoor in the floor in the room we found. I believe it’s likely been covered up by the objects in the room.” You take a bite as his shadow brings you both coffee. “Thank you, kind sir.” You tell him with a giggle.

While not expecting an answer, he gives you one. “Anything for you, my lady.” He bows.

You blush at hearing his shadow speak to you for the first time. As an extension of himself, of course he’d be a true gentleman.

“You can flirt with our Theia later, little shadow. I need you elsewhere right now.” He waves dismissively and the shadow departs, but not before teasing at your own on the floor. You blush harder. Our Theia? He turns back to you. “You were saying before you were distracted, ma très chère?”

You bite your lip. “There’s a secret tunnel on the floor below in the basement that I think leads to the trap door.” You sip your coffee and notice the shadow even added a pair of brown eyes to it. “Is there something more I should know about your shadow, mon point focal?”

“Other than that they’re quite taken with you, just as I am? No, not from me. I’d better let them explain it to you, bien-aimée.”

You flush darker. “Do they have a name?”

“As you’re the first who’s been able to understand them due to our little deal, a name has never been necessary.” He replies as he takes a bite. “They would likely take great delight in it should you choose one.”

“That sounds so lonely. Every being ought to have a name, Al. I’d be honored to choose one for them.” You say as you continue to eat, sip your coffee.

“They’ll be quite pleased, mon très cher, I’m quite certain. As for our dear Niffty’s ‘Boring Closet Stuff,’ I’m afraid it will have to wait until this afternoon. I have an overlord meeting to attend.”

You’re mid-chew, one of the eyeballs from your coffee in your mouth, so it’s a moment before you reply. “You’re taking me with you, yes?”

“They’re usually quite dull, ma très chère. I doubt it would be of any interest.” He replies as he sips his coffee.

I need to be at that overlord meeting, if what Rana said was true. Sure I could always peek in on it, but I’d much rather be there in person. There might be some crucial information revealed to which I need to be privy. “Well, beau, you could have me there, on your lap, conspiring with Rosie and yourself, making a likely boring meeting more interesting, or…I could subject myself to some pointless bonding exercise that Charlie has allowed the others to lead. What if she lets Angel lead and we end up at some bondage sex dungeon? I don’t mind; I might even enjoy looking at all the instruments of pleasure. Of course, I’d much rather explore such a place with you, alone.”

He huffs, flustered, takes your wrist from across the table, and taps it twice, just above the eye, then places his hand in yours.

You understand immediately. “Thank you for telling me I made you uncomfortable. You did good.” You squeeze his hand gently. He squeezes back, his gaze is uncomfortable, but not too shaken. “One squeeze for no, two for yes.”

He squeezes twice to let you know he understands.

“Did the idea of me there with you at the meeting make you uncomfortable?” You ask after you sip your coffee.

One squeeze, strong, deliberate.

“You’d like me to be there?” Two quick squeezes. “Then why—” You start, then cut yourself off, shaking your head. “Is this…because I mentioned the idea of a sex dungeon?”

Two squeezes, then a faltering third one. “Yes and no?” You think for a moment. “Close, but not quite?”

Two squeezes.

“Is it because I mentioned going to one with you specifically?” You search his eyes, looking for understanding.

Two squeezes.

“Oh, ma moitié, listen. I’m sorry I overstepped. I was intending for it to be teasing, but I hadn’t considered how it might affect you. That is my fault.” You rub your thumb over his knuckles, but have a strong desire to crawl into his lap and hug him. “I’d like to stand up and come sit on your lap. Is that alright?”

Two squeezes.

You get up, walk around the table, and sit on his lap.

You take his chin in your hand, stroking your mark on his skin with your thumb. “I am grateful to have what we do, Al. I may tease you, mon point focal, ma moitié, but I would never want to rush it, to take things at any pace other than the one you wish it to be. Knowing you trust me, seeing you able to tell me you’re uncomfortable like I suggested, makes me so grateful. I’m so pleased. You did so well. I’ll be more careful with my teasing in the future.” You kiss him chastely, quickly, and take his hands in yours. “Interested to see what the rest of the hotel is doing this morning?”

Two squeezes.

You close your eyes and open the hotel’s. When you discover that everyone else is all in the lobby, you close the ones that aren’t. “Everyone is in the lobby except us right now.” You begin. “Charlie’s hung up a banner. It says, ‘Happy First Week, Theia and Sir Pentious!’ Awe, she put me on a banner? That’s sweet of her. Now Sir Pentious is wheeling in his new invention he showed me yesterday with some of his egg minions, who seem to be chasing Keekee around. Oh, his parts from Carmine Industries have arrived. How prompt. He did say he was expecting for them to arrive today. And…now Vaggie is taking them away, despite giving him the funds to purchase them in the first place, with the money we won from the Scavenger Hunt.” You chuckle. “I still have mine.” You admit, then you continue, “The egg minions are fighting over some sort of laser pointer weapon…and now there’s another hole in the lobby ceiling. Is it just me or are there a lot of explosions in the lobby?” Alastor chuckles from underneath you. It vibrates into you and fills you with relief. He’s starting to come back to himself. “It looks like Vaggie just told Pentious he can’t have minions anymore. She’s wheeling the parts away. Now she’s walking upstairs.” You say as you open the eyes in the hallway to follow her. “I believe she’s headed our way.”

Alastor kisses your forehead and you open your eyes. “Eat from my plate and play along, ma très chère.”

You pick up his fork and kiss him, then take a bite, drink some coffee. You decide to feed him a bite just as Vaggie slams open the door. “Alastor!” She declares in her all-too-familiar abrasive tone.

“Do you mind?” he asks with a raised eyebrow after he takes the bite you offer, chews, and swallows. “We’re in the middle of breakfast.”

“Theia.” She says with a terse nod, then continues, “Pentious’s eggs are all over the place and I need you to get rid of them.”

“Oh, in that case, I’d be delighted to!” He holds out his hand as if he’s helping you out of a carriage and you take it to stand, then he does as well. He summons his microphone, and the two of you walk to where she stands at the door.

“Humanely.” Vaggie intones as you both approach.

“Well that’s a lot less hot.” Alastor snarks, and you elbow him as he continues, “but I suppose we can take care of that on our outing today.”

“‘Our’?” Vaggie echoes, an eyebrow raised. “I thought you were going to join us for exercises today, Theia?”

You shake your head. “I’m going out with Al today. I don’t need to bond with everyone, Vaggie. Aside from you, the rest of the staff and residents like me plenty.”

“Charlie will be disappointed.” Vaggie tries to appeal to your affection towards her girlfriend.

“She will be, but she’ll be fine, Vaggie. It’s just one day. I’ll participate tomorrow, alright?” You give her a half smile.

“Ugh, fine.” Vaggie concedes, “You’d better be.”

You take Alastor’s offered arm and walk with him out of his room, the egg bois trailing behind you both.

Vaggie eyes your breakfast with disdain. “That looks disgusting.” She’s too busy eyeing the meal to notice the eye on the underside of his chin, apparently.

Before she’s out of earshot, you chuckle and call out behind you, “Oh, Vaggie, you say that as if you’d seen a rotting doe corpse on our table! Don’t yuck someone’s yum; it’s impolite!”

Alastor chuckles as the two of you continue down the hallway. “What an amusing turn of phrase, ma très chère. Where, pray tell, did you hear that?”

“From my nanny. Naina was a sweet little i—woman. I spent more time with her than eye-ther of my parents. Sometimes I liked to pretend I was one of her lids instead.”

“I hear that can be an unfortunate side effect of having a nanny, bien-aimée. While it pains me to hear your own parents weren’t as attentive, I am grateful to know you had someone who cared for you. She did an excellent job.”

“Of course she did.” You reply dismissively as you descend the stairs, “She was employed with that purpose in mind, paid to do it.”

“Yet she not only cared after you, but cared for you. Quite likely loved you as much as you did her.” He replies easily, and you look up at him in confusion.

“How could you possibly know that?” You ask as you reach the landing between the third and fourth floors.

He turns to look at you. “No one as captivating as you could be the way you are without having someone in your life that loved and cared for you, mon âme soeur. It’s that simple.” He kisses you, and you fall silent with a blush.

He looks pleased as punch to be the one to stun you to silence for a change.

A/N: That's right folks, 'Scrambled Eggs' has finally arrived! This chapter was a bit of a filler with a lot to throw in all at once, but I think with it being a conversation over breakfast it works alright!

As for our shadow companion speaking, if you'll notice in the deal Alastor worded it so that Theia and the shadow would 'understand each other'. I do love our new shadow friend very much. If you're from the Discord, this shadow is not at all like Kek, and for a very big plot reason (in not just my but also Eli's stories). This shadow is sweet on Theia and loves her very dearly already, as an extension of Alastor himself. Al and Theia are already in love, and so his shadow loves her too. We'll hear more from them soon.

Chapter 21 will be the overlord meeting, followed by a surprise that will shock Theia to her core. Things are in motion, and she is not ready for it.

First || Chapter 21 || Chapter 23

A home we share

Hello everyone! Welcome to the world of Heario, hope you have fun wile reading this

Warnings; My own characters I guess

————————-

“Have a nice day~!” Athena called after a customer as her brown-blond middle long hair bounced with her enthusiastic waving. “Heh, you seem rather cheerful today.” Ace said making her smile “yeah Yukai said she’d help clean since she hasn’t had any customers.” She chirped as she looked at the brown-red haired male. It was already turning evening so Yukai wasn’t far from them anymore and customers already left, in fact- “Athena~ I’m here.” A young 15 year old with dark brown and red hair hair announced as the doorbell rang and she came in.

Ace and Athena looked up “Yukai! Welcome welcome!” Athena greeted the younger “thanks for helping out Yuki~!” She said rushing over and throwing an arm over her shoulders. “Ah, I’m no problem” she said, looking at her hands shyly before Athena dropped the keys into the others hands “remember only close the doors.” She smiled at Yukai who nodded “don’t worry I got this.” She said before waving the two off.

Yukai was done cleaning rather fast before she started packing up and heading home, she locked the door, tested if it was actually closed and then put the keys into hey pocket.

“Yuuuuu-Kai!” Someone behind her suddenly sang as they wrapping their hands around her neck. “Ma-su-mi~ hello there hehe” the dark brown haired girl smiled at the blondes antics as she held the arms of the slightly taller girl.

Masumi hummed and let the other go “what are you doing at Athena’s shop? They have closed since over an hour.” The blonde asked and walked next to Yukai. “I took over of the cleaning today, Athena was quite overworked and needed a break.” Yukai explained as she rubbed a sore spot on her hand before looking up at Masumi “how was your day?”

Masumi looked at Yukai before sighing a chuckle “we had some very interesting customers today, as you know we are a food store that sell traditional foods, but someone came in today and asked for hair products..” the blonde noticed Yukai holding her hand over her mouth and looking away, still titters flew through her defences. “Thehe, you know you can laugh, no need to hold back” she reassured making Yukai shake her head with a light smile on her lips and dropping her hand to lightly hit her shoulder.

“Sometimes you got some weird things going on in your little shop. Last time you guys were supposed to be a usual supermarket.” Masumi grinned at her “what you remember that?” Yukai huffed but grinned “how can I forget that you spilled coke on your colleges on accident?” “HEY!” Yukai giggled and ran forward to not get caught in her friends embrace “it was funny!” She exclaimed with a bright smile which Masumi basically copied “I’ll show you fun!” She announced playfully before the two races home.

“Miss Elanor, little Ruki, we’re back!” Yukai called from the door as they came in and took off their shoes. “Yuki, Mai-Chan!” Ruki’s Little Voice was filled with excitement as he came running to them to hug the two. “Little Ruki~!” Yukai chirped and picked the white haired child in his sweater up.

“Welcome home you two.” Elanor greeted and bowed down. Masumi walked to her and pat the white golden hair. “Hey you don’t need to bow remember?” She said carefully lifting the woman’s shoulders up to stand. “Yes I’m sorry Lady Masumi.” Yukai huffed “cut the formalities Elanor! You might be hired as a maid but by now you’re a part of this family, isn’t that right Ruki?” The little child in her arms who was wearing the same pout nodded making the wonderful looking woman chuckle. “Alright, alright, I made some food before I helped Little Ruki with his homework, are you hungry by chance?” She asked making Yukai smile brightly “what did you make?!” She asked jumping over to her with the child.

“Sister Elanor made Curryrice” Ruki said making Yukais eyes light up and excitement “what are we waiting for then?!” She exclaimed sat Ruki down and rushed to get plates “ELANOR, RUKI, YOU EATING TOO??” The girl yelled form the kitchen “yes, let me assist you!” Elanor called and rushed to aid Yukai so she doesn’t drop anything in her exited state.

Masumi chuckled and watched them fondly.

——————

Hope you enjoyed this little Drabble of my own Oc’s! ヾ(＠⌒ー⌒＠)ノ　

The world of Heario where monsters and humans live in harmony, still humans don’t always accept them as it hasn’t been too long since they started living together. Will Masumi ever find out the secret of her little friends?

HI! Could you please write something for Fez where the reader confesses that she's in love with him and he doesn't say anything (just like stares at her), so she leaves? Later, they go to a party and both get drunk and hook up, and after they fight because she thought he did it only because she told him she's in love, but he tells her that he's been in love with her for the longest time?

Warning: NSFW, Smut.

You and Fez have known each other for years. Since just before he dropped out of school. You started to come around for visits a couple years after, when you had the freedom to go out alone and visit him at his store. Then you’d hang out with him at home. You’d walk the neighborhood with him and play video games and ride in the passenger seat of his car.

You’re close to him. Too close, maybe, because you’ve stupidly gone and fallen in love with him. He’s a man who is deeply dedicated to his work. He’s chained to it, whether he likes it or not. He has never been in love, as far as you know. You’ve been his friend through a million things, and not once has he mentioned a girl. And you know it’s not out of disinterest. You’ve seen pretty girls catch his eye at parties, and it broke your heart, but you never saw him pursue them.

He’s too busy for those distractions.

Still, you love him. You can’t help it. His voice, his hands, his eyes, his stupid laugh. The way he likes to talk on the phone. How he’s a dry texter who doesn’t use emojis. His old couches and his galaxy sheets. His potty-mouthed brother that he doesn’t know how to discipline.

You love him so much, you can’t be around him without feeling like your heart is lodged in your throat. Like it’s fighting its way into your mouth until it jumps out and lands on the floor in front of him. Bloody and raw and waiting for him to take it. 

You love him so fucking bad. 

Today’s the day you’ve decided to confess, because if you keep it in any longer you think you’re going to completely implode. You can’t stand him touching you, not even in a friendly way, because it makes you want so badly it aches.

Now he’s standing in front of you, asking you if you’re okay. You’ve cornered him at home, at the bottom of the outside stairs. You’d showed up just as he was about to leave, and he’s frozen in front of you, waiting for you to tell him something terrible has happened.

You look at your shoes, then you look up at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. “Tell me.”

His keys are in his hand, and Ashtray is waiting in the car, and you can’t wait a moment longer.

You laugh, deeply anxious and exasperated with yourself.

“Shit, I don’t know how else to say this, so.” You exhale. “I love you. I’m in love with you. You don’t have to say anything, I just had to tell you.”

You don’t know if there’s a word to describe the look on his face.

He must see something in your eyes, some small part in you urging him to say anything at all, despite what you said. And he looks away, and still says nothing.

“Sorry.” You say, because you really are so fucking sorry. Then you leave, your heart pounding in your ears. 

----

The party you’re at is extremely loud, and extremely sweaty. Liquor is flowing, blunts are being passed around, and you’re looking to get kinda fucked up.

You take one hit off a joint some people were passing around, and then you work your way through the thick crowd to the liquor and solo cups.

“Hey!” A voice calls, and you turn to see Maddy approaching you with both arms raised, playfully swaying her hips to the music.

You beam.

“Hey, Maddy!” She reaches out to hug you and you hug her back.

“You having fun?” She asks, pulling away and grabbing a handle of brown liquor to pour some for herself.

You shrug. 

“I came alone, so it’s kinda hard to have much fun, honestly.”

Maddy’s finely groomed eyebrows tick up. She finishes her drink and puts the cup down.

“Huh. I thought you’d be with Fez.”

“Fez is here?” You ask, and Maddy looks at you funny.

“When has he not been at a party?”

You sigh, and reach for the nearest handle of liquor.

“Right.” You pour yourself a generous cup of vodka. Maddy pours cranberry juice in for you without you asking. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” She says, and runs one hand down your arm. When you look at her there’s sympathy on her face. Her phone buzzes and she fishes it out from some secret pocket somewhere in her skintight dress. She glances at the screen and rolls her eyes. 

“I gotta go, but don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“I promise.”

“‘Kay.” She smiles, and then floats off on her heels, disappearing into the crowd.

You take a gulp from your cup. You feel a pang of loneliness, standing at the bar at a party by yourself. You take another gulp.

“Yo.”

You look up and your heart drops straight into your stomach.

“Hey.”

Fez is looking at you but there’s something off. Like there’s a fog filling his eyes. His cheeks are very faintly red. There’s a cup in his hand. He’s tipsy.

“Uh, could I talk to you?”

“We’re talking right now.”

“I mean, can I talk to you alone?”

____________

Fez tries a few different doors. People doing coke in the bathroom, a couple making out in the laundry room. One door is locked. The next one opens into a bedroom, which is surprisingly unoccupied.

He opens the door for you, letting you walk in first. He always had those little behaviors - raised to be a tough little gentleman by his grandmother.

You take in the room - it looks like it belongs to an older couple. The door clicks shut and when you turn, Fez is on you within moments. It’s so quick that you don’t even realize what’s happening until you feel Fez’s mouth open up against yours.

Your brain sends out a warning signal that you promptly ignore. If you regret this, that’s a problem for your future self. You’re greedy and selfish and you want him so badly that you’ll take him like this even if it’s pathetic and even if it’s only one time.

You open your eyes when Fez breaks the kiss just to press more kisses to your neck, and you tilt your head to give him more access without thinking about it. You bring your hands up to clutch at the back of his shirt. 

You almost jolt when he bites at the junction of your shoulder and neck, then soothes the sting of the bite with a swipe of his tongue.

“Holy shit.” You mutter, and you feel him huff out a laugh against your tingling skin.

Everything is hazy and you know it’s not the liquor. 

One of his hands runs down your body then tucks itself under the hem of your dress. You instantly feel yourself react between your legs. The tips of his fingers skate up the outside of your thigh before stopping.

“Is this okay?” He asks, lifting his head from where he was kissing your shoulder to look at you.

“Yes.” You breathe.

His hand moves from your leg to the inside of your thigh, and then he’s touching you with the flat of his palm. He doesn’t even move his hand, just presses it there against you, and you throw your head back and just try to breathe.

You feel his mouth kissing along the column of your throat, from your chin to your collarbone. 

“Relax.” He says, but it’s hard to hear over the buzzing in your ears. You’re probably going to tear his shirt to shreds if you keep clawing at him like this.

You feel the mattress hit the back of your legs. You hadn’t even noticed how he’d been maneuvering you towards the bed. 

His hands move to cup your face and he presses against you until you’re flat on your back, your legs moving to bracket his hips.

Your heart skips a beat when you feel how hard he is, through his jeans and your panties.

You tilt your hips up, crossing your legs at the ankle, and he inhales sharply.

“You want this?” He asks, his eyes intense.

You nod, and his hand slips the strap of your dress down your shoulder.

“Take your clothes off.” You whisper, and he freezes before rocking back onto his knees. He takes his shirt off and to your eyes he’s just unwrapped himself like a gift. The shirt is tossed to the side, his chain bouncing against his chest. He works on his belt and you scooch back a bit to give him room. 

There’s a soft, light trail of hair leading down from his bellybutton. The belt rattles as he finally gets it undone. He pushes his jeans down, twisting to kick them off and throw them onto the floor.

You almost start panting when you look at the bulge in his boxers.

Then he grabs you by your legs and pulls you across the bed until the back of your thighs are flat against the front of his.

He leans down to kiss you.

“Wait.” You squeeze the hands you have on his waist to get his attention. “You got a condom?” You ask, and he swears under his breath. 

Before you can say anything, though, he stretches across the bed and starts opening the drawers to the nightstand on your left. You turn to the one on your right, digging through the drawers.

“Found 'em.” He says, and you turn to find him with a shining packet between his forefinger and middle finger.

“Oh.”

He tears the packet with his teeth and the image is seared into your mind instantly. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and then reach forward to pull his boxers down enough to get his dick free.

“Thanks.” He says, and you smile to yourself. 

He rolls the condom on and you watch, half enthralled and half wondering how the fuck you got here.

The angles of his hip, the softness of his belly, the freckles on his skin. The hair on his arms and legs and lower belly. His gorgeous, perfect cock. You look up and take in his fucking beautiful face and you can’t believe you’re about to fuck him. 

You’re going to be thinking about this until the day you die, probably.

His hand works its way under your body, holding your hip and pulling your lower half up by a bit. Then he rolls your dress up all the way to your waist and you watch his face, notice the very moment his eyes catch on your cunt. 

His hand skims from your waist, cutting a diagonal line to stop between your legs. His fingertips hook into your panties and your breath catches when his knuckles rub against you. He pulls your panties to the side and you bite your lip.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He says, looking at your cunt.

And you think he’s finally going to fuck you, but instead he pulls back and lowers his face and licks a stripe along your cunt, his hand still hooked into your panties to keep them out of the way.

His tongue is hot and wet and shocks you from your toes to your scalp. You can’t even swear in surprise because all words have been stolen from you.

His nose bumps into your clit and just that accidental touch creates a crack of lightning inside you. 

He licks you again, his tongue broad and flat against you. Again, and again until you’re squirming and he stops to kiss the inside of your thigh. He’s not really eating you out so much as he’s tasting you. 

He gives your clit one kitten lick, then pulls away and leans back to line himself up. You’re still dizzy from the feel of his mouth, and when he pushes into you - slow and patient - you actually moan out loud. It’s never felt good like that.

Usually guys ask you things like “You like that?” or “Does it feel good?”. But Fez just kisses you on the cheek and the mouth and lets you guide him with your legs hooked around his waist, urging him into yourself slowly. 

When he’s fully inside of you, he pauses, keeping his weight off you with one hand on the bed.

He looks at you, waiting for your signal, and you give it to him by pressing your hips up against his. That’s all it takes for him to start fucking you like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

His other hand comes to your hip again, angling you carefully until he finds the one that makes him hit your g-spot every time. You moan, and it’s loud but muffled by the thumping music outside the door. 

His mouth lands on yours, his tongue hot and insistent. You move up and down the bed with each thrust. 

“Wanna make you come.” He says into your mouth, and you feel like he’s reached inside you and started wringing you out. 

He brushes his hand along your neck and sternum, and you wish you were naked right now, chest to chest with him, feeling every inch of his skin with every inch of your own.

You’d be dirty-talking him right back if you weren’t still feeling the lingering sting of your confession earlier today. You don’t want to expose yourself anymore. Not today.

You push those thoughts to the side when he groans and the sound vibrates from his throat to his mouth and into yours. You swallow it down like it’s honey.

Your nails are scratching down his back. He stops kissing you just to look you in the face, and you have to force yourself not to close your eyes or look away. His eyes are so intense - always have been. In the dark they seem to glow. 

He ducks his head and starts to fuck you even harder, so hard that you shiver all over. You hook one arm around the back of his shoulder, holding him tight and pressing your forehead against his collarbone. Then he picks up the pace.

The whole bed is creaking now.

“Keep going.” You moan.

“Just like that?” He asks.

You nod frantically.

“Yes.”

His hand worms its way between the two of you, and he touches your clit, and you throw your head back and you moan - but no sound comes out.

Then he circles your clit with his fingers and your voice finally works its way through your closed up throat.

“Yes.” Fez hisses. “Shit. You’re so-” His breath catches and he can’t finish the thought.

You feel your orgasm hurtling towards you like a train, and you force yourself to lift your head to look at Fez. His eyes meet yours. There’s a blush crossing his face, and one running from his throat down to his chest. You press one hand against his chest. His skin is searingly hot.

He’s looking you in the eyes when he comes. His red lips open and he groans, and you almost come right then and there, watching his eyes shut closed as he bites his lower lip. You can tell he’s done when he starts thrusting shallowly. Even as he slows, his hand only picks up the pace where he’s touching you, and your eyes shut when your orgasm finally overwhelms you, like a burst of heat and pleasure that blooms in your stomach. 

You’re shaking, the orgasm stretching out for long moments. 

“I got you.” Fez whispers, tangling his fingers into your hair, his touch light and gentle. “I got you.” He presses a kiss to your cheekbone. The scent of his skin comforts you as the last throbs and waves start to run their course.

“Fuck.” You whimper, and it’s partly the aftershocks of the orgasm, but it’s also the intense, sudden shame. The regret. You’re so fucking embarrassed.

Fez is panting. He kisses your cheek again. Your hand drops away from his chest and you see that you’d dug your nails into him when you came. There are red half moons marking where your nails have been.

“Sorry.” You say, out of breath. 

“Ain’t nothin to be sorry for.” He says, and you can feel how reality is starting to seep in. Like it has started to stream in from the crack under the door, shoving the haze of lust out of the window. 

He pulls out of you carefully, the same way he does everything else. You ache a little as he does it, exhaling.

You reach down and adjust your underwear back in place while he removes and ties up the condom. 

Your panties are soaked. You consider taking them off completely.

Fez tosses the condom into a trash bin he spots on the other side of the nightstand. 

“You alright?” He asks, turning to you, tucking himself back into his boxers.

You nod, your ears burning. You’re embarrassed. Surprisingly, you’re getting mad, too. Or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself, to explain why your throat is closing up.

“You sure?” He asks, his voice curious and tentative. 

You don’t answer, just lift your hips and pull your dress back down all the way.

Fez sighs.

“Can you just - Get off me, Fez.”

He obeys, getting off the bed entirely and picking up his clothes from the floor. He starts hopping into his jeans and you watch him, wondering why the hell he fucked you. He wasn’t that drunk. 

“I -” You start. “Never mind.”

Then you bite your tongue for once in your fucking life and get off the bed as well. Your feet are unsteady and you look down to find that one of your heels had slipped off and is hanging onto your body by just the ankle strap. You sigh and sit to adjust it.

“What is it?” Fez asks, his voice soft.

“Nothing.”

“Nah, what is it?”

You look up.

“We shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m fucking in love with you. What, did you forget?”

He looks down at you, silent, and you think you’re starting to hate his silences. They used to make you think he was thoughtful. Now it feels like he uses them to punish you.

“I’m so fucking stupid." You laugh. "Letting you fuck me out of pity.”

“Jesus.” He mutters. He looks away and starts putting on the shirt he had in his hand.

“Yeah.” You answer, getting pissy. You usually do when you’re upset, like it’ll help keep you from crying. You need another drink. You finally get your high heel on properly, and you stand.

“You ain’t know I was in love with you?” Fez says, and you whip your head up to look at him. 

“What?”

“I wouldn’t do somethin’ like this outta pity. That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“What do you mean you were in love with me?” 

“I am.” He says, simply, like your world hasn’t been turned on its axis for the second time in one day.

“You didn’t say anything.”

“Honestly, I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you longer than you’ve loved me. Shit’s been keeping me up at night for years.”

“Shut up. You didn’t say anything.”

“You scared the shit out of me.” He says, eyes locked on yours. “You not supposed to love me. I’m bad news. You know that.”

“Did you think I’d stop just because you said nothing?”

He sighs.

“Ionno. I just know I want you but I can’t have you.”

“You really love me?” You ask, and your chest sparks with hope and fear at the exact same time.

He nods.

“Yeah.”

“I am in love with you.” You say. “And if you love me, then I’m yours. I decide who can have me, not you.”

There’s a beat of intense silence during which you really want to kiss him, and hold him, but you keep still.

“You promise to keep bossing me around like you did just now?”

“Sure thing.” You say, and Fez steps into your space, and everything around you becomes Fez Fez Fez.

His skin and his shirt and his smell and his heat and his mouth on yours. Honestly, this feels better than fucking him did, and he’s the best lay you’ve ever had. But knowing you have his heart in your hands - nothing can compare.

“I really fucking love you.” He says. You can’t wait to get out of this party.

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

(The Bad Batch) Camping: Crosshair’s Ending

  Intro

    “I guess I’ll follow Crosshair,” you said.  The sharpshooter hadn’t heard your statement.  He was already on his way toward the edge of the clearing, crossing over into the woods.  

   Omega nudged you with her elbow.  “You’d better hurry, or you’ll miss him!”

   You hesitated.  “I don’t know.  He didn’t wait around for anyone to go with.  Maybe he wants to be alone.”

   “No,” she insisted with a shake of her head, blonde locks waving.  “Trust me, he won’t mind you going.  He likes your company.”

   You had to admit that he wasn’t as abrasive with you as he once had been.  Over time, the sudden snaps and sarcastic comments had died down.  He even showed subtle signs that he cared for you as a member of the team and family in his own little way.  Your feelings for him had grown beyond what you could have imagined in that time.  You didn’t expect for them to be returned, but at the very least, Crosshair didn’t seem to mind you.

   “Hurry!”  Omega urged again, giving you another nudge.  Crosshair had already disappeared into the forest, but he most likely hadn’t gotten far.  You shrugged at Omega before taking off for the edge of the clearing.

   “Here goes nothing,” you muttered to yourself.  A twig snapped beneath your shoe as you stepped out of the bright open clearing and into the shady, cool woods.  It was beautiful.  The trees above created a sort of canopy, only allowing for smaller patches of sunlight to shine through.  Everything was so green, and the air smelled so sweet.  The brush was thick and difficult to get through even though you were following Crosshair’s trail.

   You looked straight ahead to see him standing there several feet away, twisted around to peer at you over his shoulder.  You offered a smile and waved despite the fact that your leg was caught in a bush.  If he was surprised to see you, he didn’t show it.  His gaze swept over you for a moment before he approached.

   “Hey,” you greeted.

   Crosshair’s eyes met yours briefly.  “Hey.”  He extended his hand and pulled you forward so that you could remove your leg from the brush.  It was done swiftly and with ease.  Once you were free, you dusted yourself off and looked up at him.

   “Thanks.  Do you mind if I walk with you?”

   Crosshair turned his body in the direction he’d been walking in before, peering at you over his shoulder once more.  “Do what you want.”  It was well known that he wasn’t the most wordy or expressive.  That phrase was his way of an open invitation.

   You were watching where you walked, but your gaze was also drawn to the one who led the way through the dense woods.  You studied him as if somehow it would give you insight to what was going on in that mind of his.  He didn’t speak for some time.  Your eyes rested on the back of his head of silver hair, traveling down his form and pausing at his arms.  They were left exposed by his sleeveless blue shirt that faded into darker blue further down the torso.  He definitely wasn’t built like Wrecker, but his arms weren’t noodles either.  His lean form held an impressive strength.  You’d witnessed it on the battlefield many times, and even more recently, he demonstrated it when he had snapped the tent pieces back into place in front of you and handed them back.  It had been done swiftly and with ease, whereas it had taken you and Omega both to do it the first time.

   “What?”

   You snapped out of your train of thought at his question.  “Uh, what?”

   “You were staring.”

   Of course, those keen eyes of his didn’t miss a thing.  It was handy when it came to taking out droids, but at that moment, it was unfortunate.

   “Sorry.  I was just thinking.”

   He stepped over a bush and paused, turning to hold out an open hand towards you.  You hesitantly took it, and he helped you over the plant.  “About what?” he asked.  It wasn’t meant to be nosy or demanding.  It seemed he was trying to start a conversation, which was a rare but not entirely unheard of occurrence for him.  At least, not with you these days.

   Your heart was thumping erratically at that point, racking your brain for something to say other than “I was thinking about you.”  Although, you didn’t want to lie either.  “I was just thinking how nice the sights are here.”  It was true.  Crosshair just happened to be one of the sights that you admired.

   “It is nice,” he agreed, pausing to cast an admiring glance at the canopy of trees above.  The leaves created lovely patterned shadows on his face.  You followed his gaze and sighed at how your chest swelled with happiness.  The air was warm, but not quite as blistering hot as it was in the sunny clearing.  The shade held a different kind of quiet intensity, a tension that was still so beautiful to you.

   Your eyes fell back to Crosshair.  The corner of his mouth was turned up in a half-smile at the view.  He noticed then that you were watching him, and he turned his head to look back at you fully.

   “Have you and the squad done this before?” you asked.  “Gone camping?”

   “We’ve camped out for missions,” he replied.  “Never did it for fun.”

  “Technically, Hunter originally told us that this was for team-building.”

   “Funny, he’s the one who let everyone wander off in separate directions.”

   You chuckled at the realization.  “That’s true.  Well, maybe this is part of team-building in the end.  We negotiated an effective way for everyone to do what they want.  I’d say that was a good problem-solving exercise.”

   Crosshair shook his head.  “Good one.”

   The two of you continued through the forest, talking a little along the way.  It wasn’t exactly a chatter-filled walk, but it was probably the most you and Crosshair had opened up to each other.  He told you a few stories about the squad’s past experiences camping out.  There was one in particular about how Wrecker heaved a rock and accidentally knocked over a hive of bees that Crosshair even smirked at.  Fortunately, Wrecker had escaped without getting stung, but he had run off yelling and swatting his hands around.

   You weren’t sure how long you and Crosshair had been out, but it was definitely past lunchtime.  You hardly noticed.  You were having such a nice time with him that the time flew.

   “We should turn around,” you spoke up.  “The others are probably having lunch now.”  Crosshair paused and nodded before turning straight around and heading back the way you came.

   Even as late as it was, It still seemed a little too early for the sky behind the trees to be darkening as much as it did.  The air had grown humid, and the bird chirping had ceased.  The woods had gone from delightfully shady to nearly sunless and dreary.  You walked closer to the sharpshooter, though not so close that you’d step on his heels by accident.

   Then, you heard the pitter-patter of rain beginning to fall on the greenery around you.  It started off as a trickle before gradually morphing into a downpour.  It was so heavy that even the trees didn’t shield you from the drops that soaked your clothes.

   You felt a hand take yours, and you squinted through the rain to see Crosshair urging you to follow.  You let him lead you toward a large tree that had been uprooted.  It leaned against another tree, creating a spot beneath it untouched by the rainfall.

   You rested your back against the upright trunk, panting from the sudden dash.  Crosshair ran a hand through his damp hair and shook some drops from his face.

   “When it lets up, we’ll keep going,” he said.  Both of you stared out into the rainy haze in silence.  You wondered how long it would be before it would subside.  You were glad to have a shelter of sorts, but you were starting to shiver in your soaked clothes.  Crosshair’s eyes locked on you.  He gazed at you, and despite your chill, your face grew warm under his quiet scrutiny.  Finally, he walked over to stand right in front of you.

   “Cold?” he drawled.

   Your words abandoned you at the proximity, so you merely gave a short nod.  Crosshair was just as soaked as you were, but the arm that slipped around you still provided some comfort.  You automatically leaned into him, pressing your face against his bare shoulder which was already warming back up.  His other arm wrapped around your form, and you breathed a sigh as you sank into the contact even more.

   You lost yourself in the rise and fall of his chest as well as the steady thrum of his heart.  It was a melody that you were sure would play itself over and over in your mind after the encounter.  You didn’t even want to think about the after.  You didn’t want this to end.  Your arms had slipped around his waist, and his breath hitched.  You lifted your head to meet his gaze, concerned that perhaps you’d overstepped, but then his eyes locked on yours.

   It was like the bug caught in a spider’s web that caught your eye earlier as you passed through the forest.  You were trapped by those piercing eyes as his face grew closer, though you didn’t feel like the prey you’d seen before.  You weren’t struggling to escape.  You were drawn in.

   And suddenly, his warm lips were pressed to your own.  His grip on you tightened, and you felt like you’d melt into a puddle if it weren’t for his arms holding you.  All at once, something exploded in your chest, and your lips pulled away only to unite again in a more heated dance.  Your back hit the tree trunk behind you, and Crosshair grunted an apology.  His lips met yours again before he pulled away altogether, eyes glinting.

   “Rain stopped,” he said, running a thumb along your jaw.  You didn’t tear your eyes from his to confirm, only noted that the sound had subsided.

   “We’d better head back then,” you replied.

   Neither of you moved for several seconds.  Eventually, both of you were able to pull away, though his hand didn’t let go of yours, and continued your trek back to the campsite.  The walk back was quiet, though you found yourself meeting Crosshair’s gaze many times.  There wasn’t room for embarrassment because he was almost always staring at you first.  Even though there was a bit of a hurry to get back to the campsite before it rained again, you enjoyed every second.

Could we please have little Satoru scenario with his s/o being jealous? 🤭

｡*:☆ SATORU GOJO WITH A JEALOUS S/O! ☆:*｡

a/n: thank you so much for the request hun! this was so much fun to write aaa ヽ(▽｀)ノ

⚠️warning: gojo himself is a warning bc of how much of a tease he is, grammar errors probably, implied nsfw at the end but nothing too bad

rules

All you wanted was a nice dinner with your husband. But no.

With you and Gojo both being sorcerers and having busy lives, you two decided that on the rare days where you both were off, you would have a date night at home or go out to a new restaurant to try. This night your husband picked a fancy restaurant to go to, which made you excited because you finally get to really dress up for once and look nice instead of your regular daily work attire you we’re always in. Satoru knowing this even picked out a dress for you to wear; a silky short black dress paired with heels and then him in a all black suit, you two matched perfectly. Everything was perfect. Until being seated.

You we’re having a great night until the waitress you had came over and start outwardly flirting with Gojo infront of you. Complimenting him, twirling her hair between her fingers, winking at him, ignoring you anytime she comes to the table, and even going as far to ‘drop’ her pen infront of him to pick it up slowly and making eye contact with him while smiling. You’ve known since the beginning of your relationship that everytime Gojo walks into a room or down the street all women, men, and enbys we’re staring at him because of his good looks, and there has been instances where people have flirted with him but you have only laughed about it, never taking it seriously or getting jealous. Both of you love each other and no one can break that, you know this. But with the way this waitress has been acting, its making you boil with anger as you hold your wine glass, glaring at her.

And what set you off was your husband laughing at one of her little jokes at the end of your dinner. She came over to give your check, but she started to only flirt with him once again telling some dumb joke while doing so, making Gojo laugh a little too hard for your liking. It was obvious he didn’t know what was going on, but at this moment you we’re burning with jealousy and him laughing only made it worse. You ‘accidentally’ kicked Gojo under the table, making him yell out an ‘ow’ and slamming his hand on to the table making a tiny disturbance and the waitress jump.

“I’ll take the check, thank you.” Your voice was sharp and venomous, finally making the waitress looking at you and her finally understand to back off

She quickly set the check down and walked away, you pulled out your wallet and throwing cash down on the table. Gojo looked at you confused and shocked as he rubbed his leg where you had kicked him. You didn’t want to look at him, all you did was get up and walk away leaving him to quickly follow behind you.

“Baby, wait!” He yelled out for you, but you only ignored him and kept walking out of the restaurant, down the sidewalk to find your car letting the night breeze hit, only making you feel more bitter

Gojo was right behind you trying to catch up to you, but you we’re walking too fast for him.

Finally making it to the car, you opened the door quickly and slamming it in the process while Gojo quickly getting in the drivers seat.

“Bunny please talk to me...” He reached over to hold your hand, but you only pulled away and said nothing, looking out the passengers window with a pout

He only sighed and started the car, he didn’t want to pry but he knows your upset. Also, he is kinda scared of you at this moment.

The car ride home was in pure silence. He didn’t say a word to you, only thinking about what he could’ve done to make you so upset. You don’t get upset a lot, so to see you this way always hurts him. Was it the food? Maybe the restaurant wasn’t cool? Did he say something to you? His mind is racing the whole way home.

Once arriving home and Gojo parking in the driveway, you quickly got out and unlocked the door. Kicking your shoes off walking into your house and hanging your purse up then making your way to the living room only to have Gojo teleport behind you, grabbing your waist gently and pulling you closer to him.

“Let me go. Now.”

“Not until you tell me whats wrong.”

“Nothings wrong.”

“You cannot tell me somethings not wrong when you just kicked me, stormed out of the restaurant and not speak a single word to me in the car.”

Silence fell over you two again, but only pulled you closer leaning down to place soft kisses on your neck to your cheek

“Bunny.. Please tell me what happened.. If it was the food or something I said-“

“It was none of that..”

Gojo turned you around and gently tilting your head up to look at him, making you feel suddenly small under his gaze

“Then what was it bunny?” He coos softly, wanting you to speak more

“It.. it was that stupid waitress!” You yelled, letting your anger hit you all over again

He only blinks at you with a confused expression, taking him a minute.

“I- What do you mean-“

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘what do you mean?’ SATORU! SHE WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU THE WHOLE TIME! Especially with all those compliments and the little drop the pen stunt with her big tit-“

“Oh my god... your jealous? YOUR JEALOUS~” Gojo only smirked, as he started to die with laughter which made you smack his chest in the process

“I am not jealous! And its not funny Satoru!” You glared at him with your arms crossed

“Baby, sweetcakes, honeybun, sugar, bunny, the love of my life; I’m so sorry, I need to be better at noticing these things. But I hope you know that I only love you and you only. No one or anything can make me stop loving you, okay? I love you so much.” He pulled you back closer to him, pulling you in for a real kiss making you melt under his touch, then placing small kisses all over your face making you laugh

“okay! okay! I love you too!”

“Good! Now, how about I show how much I love you hmm~”

fool for you - nolan patrick

a/n: a little nolan hate sex for your enjoyment :) i'm thinking of maybe making this into a series so pleaseeee let me know what you think and if you’re interested in more! and big shoutout to @toplinetommy​ for helping me out with this!

word count: 5k

The boys were back in town for the start of the season and it was finally the first gathering of the year. Claude and Ryanne were generous enough to offer their place, maintaining a balance of enjoying themselves and a night off of parent duties while also keeping their eyes on everyone.

You were in the kitchen, twirling the straw of your drink while you caught up with some of the other girls. It had been a long summer, but right now it felt as if you guys never left. Between hearing everyone’s latest school and work opportunities to gossiping about summer flings, it didn’t take long to get back in the swing of things. But just as Karly was telling you all about the new apartment she and Travis just moved into, your attention was drawn elsewhere.

You could barely even look at him.

Not with the way he was sauntering around the apartment like he was royalty, a musty beer in hand as he scanned the floor for his next target. His long hair was messy and roughly tucked behind his ears. His all black outfit reeked of arrogance, like he knew he didn’t even have to try to look good. He was waving and smiling to everyone he passed, each of them inflating his ego even more as they lit up at his acknowledgement. After scouring the room for long enough, he settled on his final destination, wrapping his arm around a tall blonde, a smirk spreading across his face as she leaned into his touch.

“Y/N?” Karly snapped you out of your trance making your head snap back towards her.

“Yeah,” you responded, shaking it off,  “Sorry.”

“Y/N,” she repeated, but this time her tone couldn’t have been more different, “Tell me you two aren’t going to do this again.”

You squinted your eyebrows in defiance, “I just got distracted, that’s all.”

“Yeah, by Nolan,” Karly scoffed, persistent in her confrontation.

Your relationship with Nolan was interesting, to say the least. It started one night last year when your mutual friends introduced you, the chemistry between you two undeniable as the drinks flowed. Nolan was unlike anyone else you had ever met. He was quiet, but he was an incredible listener, taking in every word you spoke as he got to know you. His attraction to you was overwhelming, his body creeping closer and closer to yours as the night went on. You felt the exact same way, but there was just one little thing holding you back: your boyfriend, Andrew.

You still remember the moment perfectly to this day. Claude innocently asked where Andrew was and that was that. Nolan’s energy shifted to ice, his body turning away from yours as the realization that you weren’t available struck him. You didn’t understand why you were so easily withholding the fact that you were in a relationship from Nolan, you were perfectly happy with the way things stood. Andrew was kind, he was stable, but you hadn’t connected with someone so quickly like you had with Nolan.

Despite your hope to be friends, Nolan shut you out completely after that night. That sweet, rosy-cheeked boy you met in the bar seemingly vanished. He barely spoke to you, and when he did it was always blunt, before eventually he became downright rude. You didn’t know what to think of him anymore, you could only assume that first impression was a fluke. It didn’t take long to convince you that Nolan was a complete asshole so you matched his energy, giving him the same sass he gave you right back.

But little did you know, shutting you out was the only way Nolan knew how to grapple with his feelings for you. He hadn’t been so drawn to someone in years, and his heart dropped when he discovered you had a boyfriend. Instead of getting over it and moving on, he lashed out, hoping he could somehow train himself to hate you. But now over a year later, his feelings hadn’t budged one bit. If anything, they had only grown stronger. There was nothing more attractive to Nolan than a woman who could go toe to toe with his attitude.

“Karly, please,” you begged, “I didn’t even know Nolan was here,” you lied through your teeth.

“What was that about Nolan?” you heard from behind you. You could recognize that voice anywhere, Travis giving you his classic cheeky smile as he turned to face you, pulling Karly into his side.

“Will you please tell your girlfriend that she’s delusional,” you snapped back.

“See I would,” Travis laughed, “Except I don’t think she is. Not about this at least,” Travis teased, gently bumping his hip against Karly’s as she rolled her eyes, far too familiar with his sass.

You didn’t even ask how he already knew what you were talking about. You could only assume that this was a premeditated attack on their part.

“Whatever,” you mumbled, throwing back a long sip of your drink. “How’s camp going?” You asked, desperately trying to change the topic. You didn’t need to hear how great Nolan was for the hundredth time when he had only ever treated you like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

“He asked me about you today, you know,” Travis continued, ignoring your plea to move on.

“What could he possibly want?” You groaned.

Although Nolan had never outright admitted it to him, Travis knew exactly what he wanted. It was beyond painful watching him pine for you from afar, but he also knew that it wasn’t his place to completely expose his best friend. He was not afraid of a little meddling, however.

“Y/N, he’s a good guy. He just takes time to open up,” Travis tried to reason with you, “I hope it’s okay I told him about Andrew.”

Your stomach dropped when you heard Travis’s words. It was like he stuck a dagger right through your heart, reopening the wound you thought had healed by now. You were so embarrassed of your failed relationship. Nothing dramatic had happened, you both just sort of fell out of love before deciding it was best to go your separate ways. Regardless of whatever Nolan tried to bring you down with over the past year you always had that to keep you sane. But now that you didn’t, you were terrified of how much more power Nolan would have over you.

“Thanks a lot Travis,” you mocked, “As if he needed another thing to make fun of me for.”

Before he could get another word out you were turning on your heels, dodging Karly’s arm that reached out for you as you hurried out of the kitchen. You pushed your way through the pockets of people, heading straight towards the balcony. As you slid the door open and slipped outside, the cool air instantly calmed you. It was quiet, the hum of the city below you the only sound you heard. You needed a minute to clear your head. Just a minute and then you would put your smile on and head back inside.

“You okay?”

Your body jumped at the sound of Nolan’s deep voice. You couldn’t even have one moment of peace before he was coming for you.

“Like you care,” you scoffed, not even bothering to look at him.

Nolan should have expected that reaction, but he was actually trying. He had been keeping an eye on you all night, deep down praying that you hadn’t noticed, and he saw you storm out. It was unlike you, you had always gotten along so well with everyone and even though it killed him, he was worried about you. But clearly nothing had changed between the two of you, Nolan now already reverting back to his usual defense mechanism.

“Someone’s on edge,” he mumbled, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

At that your spun around to look at him, the insinuation of your breakup thick in his words. Nolan was staring at you, eagerly waiting for your reaction, with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled, shaking your head in shock of his blatant disrespect. Nolan was a lot of things, but to comment on something as personal as your sex life, or the lack there of, was beyond his usual teasing.

“Try me,” Nolan challenged, “I’ll show you just how disgusting I can be.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that one, his empty proposition so absurd. But Nolan didn’t seem to find it funny, his baby blue eyes staring straight at you.

“As if you’re even capable of getting a woman off,” you snarled, swiftly walking past him, your shoulders roughly bumping as you left him standing alone.

Nolan stood in his place in shock as he watched you weave your way between people through the windows. Clearly he had struck a nerve, you had stormed away from him before but nothing quite like that. A wave of guilt washed over Nolan immediately, his hands coming up to his head and running through his long hair. Reaching for the door, he entered the party once again, his eyes scanning the room for you but he was unsuccessful. You were nowhere to be found, and Nolan was left to assume that you had left all together.

And that was exactly what you had done, deciding that from that moment on all you wanted to do was change into your pajamas and catch up on brainless reality shows. You didn’t bother to stop and say goodbye to anyone, knowing they would just rope you into staying regardless of your desire to be alone. The walk back to your apartment was brisk, but by the time you arrived home you had decompressed from the situation and were ready to relax. Nolan only had as much power over you as you let him, and for the rest of the night you decided that you were going to be free from his grasp.

Or so you thought.

Despite his feelings of guilt still lingering, the longer Nolan replayed your interaction over in his head his focus shifted. Did you really think he couldn’t get you off? He knew he shouldn’t care what you thought and that he should move on, but he just couldn’t shake your words. Nolan excused himself from the circle he was sitting with to use the bathroom, when in actuality, he slipped out the front door before anyone had the chance to catch him.

-

Meanwhile at home, you were finally feeling like yourself again, free from anyone’s judgement. Dawned in a matching sweat set, you were sprawled across your couch covered in blankets. Instead of your usual glass of wine, you opted for a hot tea, the remnant alcohol from the party still coursing through your veins. You were already on your third episode when you heard a series of knocks on your door. You groaned as you slowly peeled yourself from the cushion you had practically melted into, confusion and annoyance lacing your face while you wondered who could possibly be coming by at this hour.

When you finally reached the door and looked through the peephole, your mood turned sour right away. It was Nolan, standing tall with his arms hostiley crossed. You wondered if you could get away with just ignoring him. You could turn right back around and pretend you never heard anything, but you knew better. He wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easily. Your eyes slipped shut as you braced yourself, finally placing your hand on the doorknob and swinging the door open.

“What-” You began to ask, but you were quickly interrupted.

“You’re wrong,” Nolan hissed, his deep voice making your stomach flutter.

“Excuse me?” You snapped back,  not hiding your emotions very well.

“I have no problem getting anyone off,” Nolan asserted, his cheeks even redder than normal as he spoke.

As much as you wished you could control your reaction better, your eyes widened slightly at his words. It wasn’t your fault, you told yourself, it was all his. He had no right showing up to your apartment dressed to perfection, his warm scent clouding your senses as he towered over you in the doorway. But even still, you couldn’t let him off the hook quite yet.

“You came all the way over here to tell me that?” You chuckled, “Congratulations, Nolan. I’m happy for you, really.” The sarcasm was thick in your words as you mustered up a reply. Your hand moved to push the door shut, but Nolan beat you to it, using the weight behind his own hand to hold the door open.

“You don’t believe me?” He questioned, his eyebrows raising as he stared down at you. He knew this was pointless, that you were just trying to get a rise out of him, but it was working. As much as he hated himself for it, his pride wouldn’t let him walk away.

“Nolan,” you whined, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You could admit that sometimes you enjoyed the banter between you two, but you were too tired right now. The hum of your TV and the warmth of your couch was calling your name, but here you were with Nolan practically begging you to nurse his ego back to health.

“Say you’ll let me prove it. Right now.”

Your jaw dropped at his words. There was no way he was serious? Right? But the way Nolan was standing in front of you with his arms still crossed and his face dead-set on yours, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was.

“Nolan, I-,” you stuttered, suddenly filled with nerves as the way he towered over you clouded your judgement. “That’s not a good idea,” you said, finally gathering yourself enough to get a coherent thought out.

“Oh please, Y/N,” Nolan muttered, “Don’t act like you’ve never wondered.”

“Wondered what?” You rebutted, even though you knew exactly where he was going with this.

A small smirk creeped its way onto his face, his body slowly inching closer and closer to yours. Your eyes slipped shut as he invaded your personal space, the warm scent of his cologne overwhelming your senses. You jumped when he started whispering, his hot breath against your skin making your own hitch in the back of your throat.

“What it would be like if I touched you,” Nolan hummed, the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight as his lips so faintly brushed against your skin, “If I fucked you.”

You could feel your eyes roll back into your head as he spoke, the tension between the two of you thicker than molasses. Before you had even fully registered what was happening, Nolan was pulling away, sternly staring down at you. Your eyes fluttered open when you felt his warmth separate from your own, the cool air between your bodies snapping you out of your trance. He was expressionless, waiting for you to do or say something, anything.

“I stand by what I said,” you asserted, your eyebrows raising slightly as you challenged him, “But I’ll give you a chance to prove me wrong.”

Now it was Nolan’s turn to be taken aback. Sure, this is what he came for, but he didn’t think it would happen. Never did he ever imagine that he would have the chance to have you. But here you were offering, looking up at him with the most innocent eyes. His gaze trailed down to your lips, soft and smooth from the lip balm you put on earlier after taking off your makeup. For longer than he could even remember he had thought about what they would feel like against his own, nibbling the lobe of his ear, sucking down his neck, gently biting into the ripples of his toned stomach, before finally reaching the place he needed them the most.

“I-,” Nolan stuttered, nervously lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck, “Y/N, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-”

After spending so much time secretly pining for you and mastering his own self-sabotage, Nolan couldn’t let himself do this. He wouldn’t.

“What? Someone’s a little scared now, hmm?” You challenged, ever so slightly pulling the flesh of your bottom lip between your teeth as you tilted your head at him.

Just like that, the switch inside Nolan’s head turned again. You were enjoying the game just as much as he was. You wanted him just as badly as he wanted you. Before he let his nerves get the best of him again, Nolan was pushing his way through the frame, slamming the door shut from behind him before his hands were harshly grabbing at your waist.

As if you were on cue, you jumped into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and your hands circling his neck. Your lips instantly met in a rough kiss, Nolan wasting no time in asserting his dominance as his tongue overpowered yours. You let out a soft moan against his skin as he flattened his hands across your ass, the tips of his fingers dangerously close to your inner thighs catching you off guard.

Nolan could have sworn he blacked out a little at the sound after spending so long just imagining what you would sound like. A quiet fuck slipped out from his mouth, blood rushing straight to below his waist. He suddenly pulled away from you, but only to get a look at his surroundings and see where he was going.

“That way,” you whined against his neck, pointing in the direction of his bedroom.

“Someone’s impatient,” he teased, reveling in how desperate you were for him already.

Just moments later you felt your back land on your bed, the soft material of your bedding engulfing you. Nolan laid on top of your breathless body, his cold hands snaking underneath your hoodie as he attached his mouth to your neck. You were lost in the contrast of his gentle kisses and sharp bites, but it didn’t take long for you to snap out of it.

“If you leave a single visible mark on me, Patrick,” you snarled, pushing his head away from your sensitive skin.

“Patrick now, huh?” Nolan mocked, the smile on his face almost giving away how much he was enjoying this.

You simply rolled your eyes at his comment, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him back down to your lips. He obliged, this time putting the entirety of his weight onto yours, earning another moan from you. You always knew he was big, it was one of the things that made hating him so hard. He was so strong, so broad, and now you got to feel every ounce of him pressed against you.

As much as you hated to admit that you could have stayed there making out with Nolan until the end of time, you were getting impatient. Without any warning, you pushed him off of you, reaching your hands up from the waistline of your hoodie and pulling it off. Nolan’s reaction to seeing you braless made you swoon, his eyes widening as he took the sight of you in. But just as he began to lean back down, you stopped him.

“Ah ah ah,” you whispered, shaking your head.

He knew exactly what you wanted, letting out a small laugh before peeling his shirt off. You had to keep yourself from drooling as soon as he did, the defined lines of his body making you audibly whimper. To put it plainly, Nolan was beautiful.

Nolan made his way back down to your level, his arms resting on either side of your head holding his weight above you. He resumed his attack on your neck, this time hastily making his way down with a trail of wet kisses before scattering bruises across the tops of your boobs. Your body arched up into his in anticipation, the pressure of his growing bulge making you weak.

“Nolan,” you whined, abandoning whatever dignity you had left.

Hearing you beg with his name like that was like pure ecstasy. Nolan finally gave up his act and moved his fingertips to tease the waistband of your sweats, pausing to watch the way you squirmed for him. He would do absolutely whatever you wanted at this point.

“Easy baby,” he cooed, the pet name making you momentarily forget the throbbing between your legs as your heart fluttered. “Can I?” He asked, eyes locked with yours.

You nodded embarrassingly fast, so desperate for him to do anything, but it wasn’t enough for the long-haired boy.

“Use your words,” Nolan challenged, needing your verbal approval before he moved further.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

Just like that, he was pulling your sweats down in one swift motion, the cool air enveloping your burning legs. You were so clouded with lust that you had almost forgotten the circumstances that brought you here, but Nolan was not shy to remind you.

“Cute undies,” he chirped, poking fun at the very plain, but very comfortable, boyshorts you had on.

You smacked him across the head, not finding his little joke very funny. “I am so sorry for not wearing my best lingerie while sitting at home alone, please excuse me.”

Nolan chuckled at your response. “Apology accepted,” he laughed, sending you a quick wink of reassurance. He would be lying if he said he didn’t immediately let his mind wander to what you would look like dawned in lingerie, but he didn’t have time for that, he had a task at hand.

Nolan slowly dragged one finger across your core ever so slightly, lifting his gaze to watch your reaction. Your head fell back against the pillow, back arching off the bed at the barely there contact. You could feel yourself practically dripping and you just knew the soft cotton material of your underwear was soaked through.

“Awfully wet for someone you say you hate so much,” Nolan mumbled, watching you thrash.

“I do hate you,” you responded, your voice laced with disgust as you tried so hard not to give him what he wanted. He had barely touched you and you were already a wreck. Get it together, Y/N, you scolded yourself.

Nolan chuckled at your desperate attempt to gather yourself, deciding he would just make it that much harder for you. He moved his fingers to focus on your clit, slowing rubbing circles through the fabric. Smiling as your legs tensed, he couldn’t help himself from offering yet another jab, “Fuck, I don’t even think I have to take these off.”

God dammit, Nolan, you thought to yourself. But he was right. Between how much he worked you up earlier and the way his fingers were giving you the perfect amount of friction, you were close. Embarrassingly close.

Nolan picked up his pace, his devilish smirk growing as your legs faintly started to shake. Before long you were seeing stars, his fingers now moving in a quick side to side motion against your clit as you fell over the edge. Your eyes were screwed shut, and despite your best efforts to stay as quiet as possible, your moans got the best of you.

The sight of you cumming was the most incredible thing Nolan had ever witnessed. The way your back arched, how tightly your hands clenched the sheets, and most magically, how perfect his name sounded falling from your lips.

“Nol, Nol,” you whimpered, the pressure becoming too much.

He obliged, finally pulling his fingers away before bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean. Your head fell back into your pillow yet again at that, the way his blue eyes were practically staring into your soul making your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“So much for not being able to get you off, hmm?” You heard Nolan mutter. You could feel the outline of his smirk pressed against the skin of your thigh, his cockiness growing exponentially in just the past few minutes. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of responding, not that you even knew what you would say to that.

Your silence was satisfactory enough to Nolan. In all the time you two had been going after each other, rarely did Nolan get the last word. But tonight he had managed to shut you up with just a few flicks of his fingers. While you were simmering in your post-orgasm shame, he was gloating.

“Want another one, sweetheart?” Nolan hummed, the pet names escaping his mouth without even thinking now. He slowly trailed his way back up your thighs before hooking a finger in your underwear, gently pulling them down. “Fuck,” he groaned at the sight of your bare pussy, glistening in the dim light from his previous work. Your hips unconsciously lifted off the mattress, the cool air making you desperate for his touch once again.

“Oh honey,” Nolan mocked, “Tell me what you want.”

“Nolan,” you groaned, your voice laced with annoyance. You knew exactly what you wanted, but more importantly you knew he knew too. But of course, he was going to make you say it.

“Hmm?” He questioned, playing dumb as you struggled in front of him.

“I want you to fuck me,” you finally gave in, “Happy?”

“Very,” he quipped, “Now turn around.”

You felt yourself clench at his order, wasting no time doing just what he said. Settling in on all fours, you braced yourself for what you could only assume was to come.

“Fuck, you’re something,” Nolan groaned, his hands running down your back to the curve of your ass. You couldn’t help but smile at his words, grateful that your face was hidden in the comforter.

“Wait, I don’t have-” But before he could finish his sentence, you were interrupting.

“You’re not going near me without a condom on,” you asserted, lifting your head just enough to point to your nightstand, “Bottom drawer.”

“Thanks a lot,” Nolan scoffed at your jab, but still eagerly grabbed one regardless.

With next to no warning he was slowly pushing into you, the pressure making your mouth fall open in a silent moan as your body adjusted to his size. Nolan sighed as he pressed into you, mumbling a string of swears at how your pussy enveloped him. He was patient, waiting just like that until you gave him permission to move.

“Nolan,” you whined, “Please.”

That was all it took for Nolan to start snapping his hips, agonizingly slow at first, making you feel every inch of him, before he sped up his pace.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, the way your body looked in front of him almost too much to handle. The arch of your back had him weak, one of his hands reaching to tangle in your hair as he used his grip for leverage.

You felt like you were floating with the way Nolan was hitting all the right places. It was funny to you know that his line that started this whole thing was actually painfully accurate. It had been a while. After Andrew you tried to fill the void with random hookups, but it didn’t take long for you to cleanse your phone of all dating apps and opt for nights out with the girls instead of on the prowl. But now, you were reminded of everything you had been missing out on with the way Nolan was working you.

“I- I’m,” you sputtered out, unable to find the words on your first try, “I’m so close, Nol.”

Instead of most guys you had been with you would take that as their sign to go faster, Nolan didn’t, instead keeping the exact same pace. His grip on your one hip got tighter as he felt himself get closer too, his other hand in your hair sinking down to meet your clit, the familiar pattern of his fingers bringing you that much closer.

“Go ahead, honey,” he cooed, leaning into your ear as he encouraged you, “That’s it, that’s a good girl.”

That was all you needed to hear to push you over, your muffled cries filling the air as Nolan fucked you through your high. Your legs shook around him as he continued, your body going completely limp. He was right behind you, his deep groans into your neck sending vibrations through your body as he spilled into the condom.

Nolan hovered above you just like before rolling over onto his back. You collapsed into the mattress, the tingling sensation still coursing through your lower half. You both stayed like that catching your breath in silence. While the reality of what you just did began to sink in for you, Nolan was basking in it.

He turned his head to get a peek at you, but you were facing the other way as far from him as possible. Your body language could not have been more clear, and the realization made Nolan’s heart drop. He knew this wasn’t going to change anything, he was a lot of things but he wasn’t dumb. But even still, part of him deep down hoped that maybe, just maybe, it could.

His thoughts were interrupted by your sudden movement. Despite the stinging between your legs, you lifted yourself up and sat on the edge of the bed, taking a sip of the water on your nightstand. Now that the lust of the moment was long gone, you were in shock that you let that happen. The sex was incredible, undeniably some of the best you had ever had, but you knew that this was going to make things so unbelievably complicated from here on out.

Before you could let yourself spiral too much, you stood up, hastily making your way to the en suite bathroom. Nolan was entranced by the shape of your silhouette in the dim room, but your next words before you disappeared reminded him just where you two stood.

“Lock the door on your way out.”

Strawberry Flavored Pocky.

pairing : teen! gojo x gender neutral reader warnings : the big three: unedited, most likely badly written, and some cursing. also there’s like.. graphic imagery that gojo and reader exchange to eachother. it’s just banter though! wordcount : 2273 a/n : for that one anon that wanted teen gojo. my stroke of genius always occurs when im eating strawberry flavored pocky i swear.. anyways yeah this is unfiltered writing n it’s probably like not the best tbh and maybe i didn’t nail teen gojo’s personality but u know what this was so fun to write

     The sound of the tear of the wrapper containing the Pocky you had just bought was music to your ears, crinkling with every touch. Your fingers are itching to grab for the deliciously coated sticks, but you’re stopped by someone none other than Gojo Satoru himself.       “What’d you get?” he inquired, seemingly unbothered by the face you were making, he hadn’t even greeted you with a simple, “Hello.” he sat down on the bench seat right next to you, uninvited.       In his hand were many bags of various sweet treats, you could only make out some familiar ones- ramune flavored gummies, a bag of chips, vibrantly colored candy. Your lips quirk downwards, exhaling, turning to face the setting sun.       “Just some Pocky.” you flatly respond, beginning to pick the biscuit up. Contrary to Gojo’s wide choice of snacks, you only really had one favorite- Pocky. Specifically, Strawberry flavored Pocky. The sweet, yet somewhat tart aftertaste treat dominated your mind almost day and night. It wasn’t everyday that Yaga would be lenient enough to take the four of you to the local convenience store. You were waiting for Shoko and Geto to finish shopping to finally head home for a night of yummy snacking.       Gojo sighs, lazily dropping the treats right next to his side, they sat idly, limply resting on his thigh as he crossed his right leg over his left knee. His hands warmly nestled into his snowy white hair, his elbows jutting into your personal bubble.        “Not one to chat, are you? What’s the problem? You scared?” his tone is teasing, and you jerk your head to face his. Your head is tilted, like your confused, but in reality you’re just astounded how obnoxious he was.       “Why in the world would I be scared of you? You wouldn’t lay a finger on me. Yaga-Senpai would rip your limbs off one by one and fling you into the horizon! And he’s not even that far away, I could report you to him if you even get on my nerves in the slightest.” you shot back, huffing and taking your first bite on the biscuit. You instantly melt.       He flashes you a toothy smile, and you stiffen, did he ever take anything seriously? “Oh my, so riled up. Only scaredy-cats would talk about how not scared they were. Look, you’re even shaking-” he gestures to your just slightly shaking, tightened grip on your Pocky. “-I win, Y/N! Boo hoo, case closed, gimme your Pocky~”        “No, fuck you and your fat ass trying to take my Pocky, I’m not shaking from fear anyways.” you sternly retort, warmth rushing to your cheeks for whatever reason. “I’m shaking because I’m resisting the urge to duct tape your mouth shut and gouge your eyeballs out.”       He chuckles warmly as if your gruesome detailing was humorous, he probably didn’t know you meant it. He too, ripped open one of his snacks. “Calm down, Y/N. I was joking, I could buy Pocky’s whole stock and probably also buy my position up as CEO if I wanted to. I wouldn’t leech off of you, sugar.” readjusting his crooked, circular shades, he looked down at your now slack grip on the wrapper.      Unanswering, you’re grumbling instead. Under your breath, you’re curious as to how Gojo hasn’t realized how obnoxious he was, and how much longer could he survive without his head exploding from how big it was from his inflated ego?      Gojo grinned. He was all too aware of those things, but who really cared?      “Not unless you let your guard down!-” unable to finish the rest of his sentence, he yanked up the wrapper from your hands, using the extent of his long arm to dangle it high above your head. Your reflexes are far too slow to react, causing you to glare at him in a mixture of shock, hatred, and disbelief.      “Give-” you jump, arm reaching towards your snack, but he backs off, snickering and still dangling it above your head. “It-” now you’ve leapt up on the bench, grabbing at the wrapper to no avail. “Back!-” whimpering and flailing your arms out, every time you came close to retrieving your rightfully owned pack of Pocky, he’d simply throw it to his other hand so carelessly it pissed you off. All the while giggling, juggling it like a clown.      A breath of laughter escapes his lips as he looks at you, prancing around like a circus act on the bench, yelling curses and many death-wishes to his clan. Your eyebrows are knitted together, and he can’t just help but realize how adorable you were when concentrated in getting something- so stubborn.    “Okay, okay!” and as if Gojo had flipped a switch, you simmer down, looking at him with an impatient side-eye. “You want it, doggie?”     “Refer to me as doggie, and I’ll send a pack of strays to ravage you.”       Gojo exhaled out of his nose. “You’re a funny one, doggie.” did he just dismiss the conversation you two were having literally 2 seconds prior? “I’ll ask this again, do you want to get your treats back?” his eyes are glinting with amusement and child-like glee. You were almost sure that he had started calling your beloved Pocky as treats because of just how well it suited the nickname Doggie. It looked like you would be getting no where unless you paid no mind to him calling you such a.. Derogatory name.       Grumbling and studying the concrete you were currently trampling on, you exasperatedly sigh.       “Yes. I do want my Pocky back.” you grunt, averting your gaze to anywhere but Gojo’s shoes.       He perks up in approval, drawing out a long, “Hmmm?” as if he hadn’t expected you to give up so easily. “What are the magic words, Y/N?”       This was so humiliating.       “Please?” you politely say through gritted teeth. If it weren’t for the general public bustling about, you would’ve lunged for his unruly hair and tear it out of his scalp.       “Hah! You think I’m gonna do that sorta bullshit?” he crosses his arms, Pocky tucked safely under his arm. You wince, thinking about how the biscuits may potentially be snapped in half. Did you really want your snack still? It probably smelled like Gojo’s armpit sweat, death, and all the bad things in the world combined. “You’re gonna have to earn it, Y/N, in a game.”       Now convinced that Gojo was the manifestation of all the bad karma that you had avoided, you stare at him with wide eyes and fear, the irritation long gone. Games, no, scratch that, literally anything with Gojo only resulted in a small, or maybe large piece of your sanity torn away from you, lost to the infinite dark abyss. Maybe that’s why Geto seemed to slowly go insane everyday.       “On second thought, I’ll just go-”      He cuts you off, alarm now displayed on full view, his face contorting back to neutral. “Wait, no! It won’t be hard. Pinkie promise.” extending a pinkie towards you, you gently slap it away. The mood change was so instant, you were still shocked, that, and he was almost a legal adult and still believed in pinkie promises.      Still hesitant, you quirk an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’d rather spend another two dollars than play whatever game your planning, unless you tell me about it.”      “That’s a given, besides, it won’t take too long, Y/N. I think you’ll like it.” he replies cheerfully, leaning and whisper-yelling into your ear, fruitfully jolting you up. Seriously, did he have any idea what personal space was?      After just a few seconds of thinking, you roll your eyes in defeat. “Okay, what’s this game?”      His incredibly long fingers inserted themselves inside the crinkling wrapper, pulling out a slender stick. You’re almost sure your salivating, and subconsciously swallow the lump at the back of your throat. “Okay, rules of this game are... Hm, we both place our mouths at both ends of the stick. You get the pretzel part because that part sucks.” mischief flickers in his eyes briefly. “Whoever can get down the Pocky longest without being afraid of kissing and pulling back, loses and doesn’t get the Pocky. Whoever stays in their place wins. I’ll throw in some money, deal or no deal?”       “This doesn’t sound.. Fun.” you were still skeptical, but curiosity was blossoming rapidly inside of you. Could you really resist such an intriguing request? The guy was rich, and he did say he’d throw in some money. Gojo probably hated the thought of you, too. You could probably get up and close, get him to cower away from the thought of locking lips with you, and you’d be on your merry way.       “Um, actually, never mind. Let’s do this.” you chirp, the weariness had depleted completely. Besides, Gojo would pester you into doing it anyways, this would effectively save time. The expression on his face was indecipherable, silently wishing to yourself to see his eyes. You wonder if they’re wide open, in shock of your acceptance.       He gently placed the biscuit between your lips, his thumb brushing against it. Your breath hitches, now he’s up close. The shades adorning his handsome features, concealing those vivid blue eyes of his made your heart pace quicken in just seconds, maybe it was because he could see you- and you couldn’t. Your gaze shifts to the tufts of white hair hanging above his forehead. His bangs look lusciously soft, so soft you wonder what it’d be like to ruffle his unruly hair, what did it smell like? What conditioner did he use?     Your cheeks darken, but you hope he doesn’t notice it. This was what people thought of when they saw pretty people up close, it wasn’t like you had a thing for him, he was just attractive, that’s all.      “You look real stupid holding that stick between your teeth and looking at me.” he comments, charmingly smirking as you give him another death glare, unable to speak in fear of dropping the Pocky stick. You could count each individual hair strand he had on top of his head with the amount of time he was taking.      Chomp.     You take the first bite, and you can’t help but realize how much your heart is fluttering about in your chest. Eyelashes fluttering, nerves getting jittery, the exchange was strangely intimate. No kidding, of course it was- if the two of you were adamant and continued to chomp on the stick, it would only end in a kiss. There was no way around it.      He takes a bite too, his lips look curved in a dopey smile, but there’s not a single word traded between the two of you, just tiny, slight nibbles. It would be eons until someone finished, and you were growing impatient by the minute. Quicken the pace. Quicken the fucking pace.     So you did the unthinkable, you quickened the pace.     Taking a large bite, he pauses for a minute- as if to think, before taking an even larger bite. Now, 2/3′s of the original stick is gone. One more large bite, and a kiss would follow suit. Now, you’re sweating bullets, eyes bouncing from him, back down to the microscopic sized Pocky. His lips are so, so close. Soft, plush pink, so glossy you’re inclined to ask what brand of lip gloss he uses. You can hear his breathing grow heavier, why wasn’t he giving up?      The two of you don’t take a single bite, plainly avoiding the objective, the world around you had evaporated into thin air. It’s you, and Gojo Satoru.      You nibbled a little bit more, and then you make up your mind. You’re going to kiss-       Growing chatter grew closer to closer, and you realize Shoko’s monotone and Geto’s lively voice, alongside a very disgruntled Yaga.       “Yeah, she’s pretty hot. I actually liked the movie- Uh...?” the steady rhythm stopped against the concrete. Immediately, you straighten and clear your throat, spitting out the Pocky stick into the nearby grass. Gojo follows suit, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and twirling around. “Oh hey, Geto!-”       “Are we interrupting something? Something.. Important?” Shoko quizzes, struggling to stifle her giggling. A sheepish smile was displayed widely on your face for the world to see, hands behind your back like you were hiding something. Gojo, on the other hand, is facing the other direction, whistling and staring at the now setting sky.       You stutter, cheeks growing even darker. Yaga looks as disgruntled as ever, facepalming and murmuring to himself. Geto looks ecstatic.        “MY MAN!” he beams. “WERE YOU GOING TO-”       “SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” Shoko shushes him in response, turning her head back to the two of you. You looked like you had just seen a ghost. “We thought you hated Gojo, we’re just...” her head is cocked slightly, an understanding expression on her features. “Just surprised, is all.”       Spluttering, you try to explain yourself- but no sound comes out. Your mouth is opening and closing, struggling to find the words.       “I do hate him... I just... He.. Pocky.. He uh...”       “Sheeeeeeeesh! Poor Y/N over here is going through some shock right now!” Gojo muses aloud, he places an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in under his arm. There’s a small, coy grin on his lips. As if he didn’t try kissing you 1 minute ago. “Just ignore them, anyways, what are we having for dinner tonight? I heard there’s a really good KBBQ place down the street that just opened..”      As much as you hate Gojo, his ability to escape anything did come in handy.    Well, maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you were leading on.     You’d go as far as to say.. Maybe you enjoyed some parts of him.