#(anyway… force of habit. i still do it now even though i’ve been told that’s apparently not the way) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiwi-bitchez · 6 months

Text

Double Down, Triple Threat

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension.

Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending.

Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.

Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I

"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.

"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics.

"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways.

"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."

"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."

"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something."

Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order.

Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret.

"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."

"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on.

If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that.

He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."

"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were.

Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers.

But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar.

Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well.

"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."

"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."

"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'

"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"

"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig.

"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."

"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."

"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."

"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him.

He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface.

"What's your drink?" he asks.

"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer.

"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him.

You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.

"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."

"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.

"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."

"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."

He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.

As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."

You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."

Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket.

"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that."

Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull.

"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"

"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."

"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt.

"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards.

You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night.

You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot.

"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."

"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."

"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."

"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive.

"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot.

"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."

"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something."

With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road.

Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt.

You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong.

Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk.

It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one.

You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood.

Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper.

Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful.

You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door.

"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks.

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go."

You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step.

"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."

"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking.

"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live."

He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."

"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies.

"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.

"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?"

He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought.

The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat.

"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here."

"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.

"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."

"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."

"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."

You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.

"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights.

"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."

"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."

"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought.

You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?"

"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar.

You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."

"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."

"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on.

You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."

He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped.

The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close.

After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy.

"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat.

You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.”

He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside.

Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now.

Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane.

He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.

"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.

"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"

He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this.

"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.

"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond.

"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that.

This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say.

Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well.

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile.

"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago.

"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips.

It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window.

After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form.

When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much.

He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?

In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue.

So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”

“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.

“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”

“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner.

You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise.

He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be.

“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.”

With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath.

It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch.

He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief.

His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow.

“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.

Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind.

He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there.

“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.

He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing.

Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights.

The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.

Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow.

“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.”

He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel.

Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale.

“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”

After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request.

Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?

Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut.

You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes.

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”

And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did.

Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it.

After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off.

Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.

You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”

“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”

“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.

“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.”

“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.

You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances.

“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over.

“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”

There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were.

“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…”

He understood, he hated how much he understood.

“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him.

“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”

“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”

“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”

“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’

He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run.

You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat.

“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive.

He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt.

A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails.

The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers.

You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed.

You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point.

He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction.

“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”

“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale.

“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.

“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.

“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”

You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot.

“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice.

“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”

He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip.

He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.

He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction.

When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?”

A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill.

The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away.

“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“

He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands.

“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.

“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth.

“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”

With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom.

“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”

“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”

You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on.

“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.

“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself.

You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark.

He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked.

“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you.

“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious.

“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present.

“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed.

“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”

You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream.

“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”

You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go.

You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around.

“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”

It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin.

“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”

“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“

“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.

He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways?

As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away.

“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back.

He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel.

“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging.

You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.”

As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up.

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.”

His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.

Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most.

Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs.

He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way.

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you.

When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.

You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”

He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time.

“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?”

The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.

“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him.

“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand.

He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary.

As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else.

Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”

Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes.

He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch.

He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”

Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top?

“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“

“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”

Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching.

It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment.

“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”

Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point.

Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.

The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end.

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold.

His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean.

“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”

You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two.

You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his.

He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could.

“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”

“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”

Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen.

After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong.

“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep.

An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you.

You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months.

A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control.

“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed.

A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze.

You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue.

You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true.

Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.

“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper.

“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment.

“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”

“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”

“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”

“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”

“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”

“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.

“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.

“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall.

“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl.

“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”

“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”

“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time.

“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over.

“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was.

“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”

“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.

“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”

Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear.

“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”

“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”

His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.”

“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this.

“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.”

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.

Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips.

“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.

“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”

“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”

“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”

“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”

He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you.

Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom.

As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips.

“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.

“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”

“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom.

“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets.

“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”

“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you.

“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”

As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed.

He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away.

You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself.

After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.

“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.

“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect.

“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.

“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”

“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck.

“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.”

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body.

“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.

You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long.

“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.

“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs.

You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.

A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”

You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”

He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up.

You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.

You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks.

“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.”

His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away.

“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.”

You nod with a “Please.”

“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”

He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.

“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”

With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit.

He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred.

“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.”

You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask.

You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest.

The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.

You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip.

“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle.

“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?”

The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”

He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you.

Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning.

“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”

Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone.

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest.

He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit.

“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.

“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”

You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand.

“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”

He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time.

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment.

You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare.

You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening.

Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.

“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”

He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more.

He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more.

Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time.

He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go.

You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you.

“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time.

He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state.

You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you.

“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you.

“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could.

Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all.

His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.

He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.

“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now.

He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him.

Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter.

Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue.

You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”

Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.

Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you.

Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you.

“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts.

“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”

“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future.

“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”

Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page.

Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock.

“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips.

“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”

He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“

He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake.

“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his.

“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”

You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours.

“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses.

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.”

Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.

He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center.

He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.

Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you.

More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”

How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name.

“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.

“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“

“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release.

Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements.

“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm.

It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name.

It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.

“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van.

You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets.

He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.

“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”

He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss.

“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”

Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all.

“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice.

“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come.

A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #smut #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson #stranger things smut #Eddie munson fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

viktheviking1 · 6 months

Text

It suddenly became very clear to Stolas that something was very, very wrong. There was just one table in the room, and it looked nothing like a garden expo. He immediately turned around to open the door, to find that it was locked. Damn it, he was going to have to have a word with that person's supervisor. This was completely unprofessional. He turned back around to give himself space to make a portal, when he saw who was sitting in a big chair in the middle of the room, swinging his legs happily.

"Blitz . . .? Is that you" he approached the table.

Blitz, who had taken a black marker out of his pocket and began doodling horses on the very cloth, very expensive napkin in front of him, looked up startled, "S-Stolas! What the f**k?! Why are you- . . . Wait, don’t tell me . . . You set all this up?!”

Stolas couldn’t explain it, but seeing stars in Blitz’s eyes after all this time apart, was bringing tears to his, but he held them back, “I’m sorry, no . . . What are you doing here?”

“Oh . . . Well, we were invited to a horse race and then all this was here. . . I just thought . . . nevermind, it’s stupid.” Blitz slouched.

“Horse race? So that’s how they tricked you into coming. I was told this was a garden exposition. It seems we were both lied to, though I still don’t understand why, or by whom.” Stolas fidgeted a little, feeling awkward to just be stood next to the table, but wondered if it would be overfamiliar for him to sit in the empty chair.

“You mean . . .” Blitz took in their surroundings, eyes wide, like he was suddenly seeing everything for the first time, “ . . . C***** on a stick, they led us right into a horny prison, didn’t they.”

“. . . Horny what? Nevermind, earlier, you said ‘we were invited’. Might I ask who was the ‘we’ you spoke of?” Stolas asked, shifting his weight.

“Oh, Loona was here earlier, but she said she was going to the bathroom. I’m starting to think she might not be coming back though, given that you’re here now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was in on this whole thing.” Blitz tapped his finger on the table, then looked up at Stolas, “Are you gonna just stand there or what?”

“Oh! Yes, thank you.” Stolas took a seat on the other side of the table, trying not to admire the view of Blitz through the candle light, “Are you implying that you know why they’ve trapped us here? Could you enlighten me? I do rather hate being in the dark on important plans.”

Blitz looked down at the table, and fidgeted with the tablecloth, trying to think fast, “Sh*t. What am I supposed to say? ‘My daughter must have seen how many gallons of ice cream I’ve gone through, despite denying that I felt anything for you, and decided to intervene.’ I only just f**king realized that I’m emotionally attached to this pretentious bird. I’ve been too busy since the dream to even process that, let alone decide how to act around him. Oh, G** this is a f**king mess. If Loona was involved in this in anyway, she is sure gonna get the f**king talking to of-”

“Um, Blitzy? Did you hear me?” Stolas asked.

Blitz looked up, still with a shocked look on his face, and Stolas corrected himself, “Oh, dear. I’m sorry. I won’t call you that anymore. I swear, it was just out of habit. I didn’t mean to disrespect you or your boundaries.”

Blitz came back to himself, and though he had started to sweat, he tried to talk out of his *ss like he always did, “It’s fine. And I was just thinking that this was probably some kind of prank Loona was pulling: Force Dad to be alone with an old slam piece. She’s always playing tricks on people around the office, though usually they aren’t this elaborate. As a trick connoisseur, I’m kind of proud, but as her father and boss, I am both disappointed and outraged, but that’s just how it goes raising a kid, am I right? HAHAHA. . .!” He laughed a little too loudly.

Stolas saw Blitz acting nervous, and interpreted it as him being uncomfortable around him, and he had to himself to keep it together, “. . . Right, well I did see Loona briefly while I was outside. I suppose it makes sense that she pulled Via away if she were trying to get us together. Oh, well. It seems they locked the doors the moment I entered the room so-”

“Aw, d*mnit," Blitz slammed his fist on the table, "that Loona sure is going to be in trouble when she finally decides to let us out of here.”

Before Blitz had interrupted him, Stolas had been about to offer to make a portal for the both of them to leave through. He supposed he still could. All he had to do was say the words. Would it be a lie not to tell him they could leave at any point? Blitz did technically already know that Stolas was proficient at making portals, even without his grimoire handy. Maybe Blitz simply wanted to spend some more time with him . . . ? No, that was wishful thinking; dangerous thinking. He was probably just so startled and off put by the whole situation that he was having a lapse in memory. Maybe Stolas should remind him of it. Not only was he morally obligated, and it would be a lie of omission not too, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be stuck in a room with Blitz. As romantic as this setting was, he was clearly uncomfortable, and he had promised he wouldn’t do that to Blitz.

Stolas rested his arm on the table as he opened his mouth to form the words, when his hand touched something, “What’s this?”

Read more on The Pompous and the Prick Fanfic

12 notes · View notes

nhasablogg · 2 years

Text

A Needed Thing

Fandom: Star Trek

Characters: Bones, Jim

Summary: Bones proposes that Jim should do weekly tickle therapy sessions to help with his mood and Jim is finally forced to talk about it.

A/N: Shy blushy Jim! That is all.

Words: 950

It wasn’t as if Bones hadn’t known about it, but it was one thing being gently (and desperately) coaxed into it and to watch it happen before him without his involvement. He wasn’t really jealous, but the sound caught his attention mostly because he rarely heard it from afar and he found his gaze lingering. He wasn’t sure of what his expression was when Jim caught his eye, but the way timidness washed over him made Bones wonder if he’d been smiling, just a little.

Jim hadn’t been avoiding him per se, but it was exceptionally difficult to get him alone the following days, as if Bones would corner him and force him confess to it all, when simply all Bones wanted was to make a proposition.

“A proposition?” Jim asked, having finally entered his quarters without excuses. He crossed his arms where he was sitting across from Bones, sinking into the couch ever so slightly.

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice- relax, I won’t tease you, I’m simply making an observation, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, I know you like being tickled-”

“Lord,” Jim said, standing, but Bones grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down. “You said you weren’t going to tease.”

“If that was teasing to you I know you wouldn’t survive the real deal. Let me talk, okay?”

Jim crossed his arms again. “Okay.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Right. Well, I know you like it because I’ve had to endure years of you begging for it- ap! Don’t protest.” Jim closed his mouth again with a huff. “And seeing the way you let Uhura tickle you and did very little to get away made it all the more obvious. It was adorable, might I add.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jim said, pinkening. “I was humoring her.”

“Of course you were. But anyway, to my point.”

“Oh, you have one, have you?”

“Shut up. It didn’t escape my notice that you’re always in a better mood when tickled-”

“I will leave this conversation, Bones.”

“-and I propose you might have to make it a weekly thing. Tickle therapy, if you may. I know how difficult this past year’s been and I think it would do you good.”

Jim didn’t reply now even though Bones had fallen silent, but simply rubbed at his neck, a nervous habit he’d not been able to shake even as he’d become captain. He was bright red, and Bones allowed him to feel his embarrassment rather than try to soothe him. It would only make it worse, but Jim had gotten better at handling this emotion, or at the very least to hide it behind a facade of confidence. It was different with just Bones, though. He’d seen this boy blush his head off more times than he could count and had enjoyed it for most of them.

He felt sorry for him now, wondering if he should’ve just kept the idea to himself and tickled him weekly without mentioning the reasons; that it made him happy and relaxed and that he probably needed it more than ever now. But one part of him was desperate for Jim to finally talk about this with him. He’d never really done it before.

“Jim?” he said tentatively when Jim still didn’t talk and Jim met his gaze only because he knew there would be no judgment there. “What do you think?”

Jim hummed, his blush spreading down over his neck. “I, uh, can see why you thought of it. I know you know things I’ve not told you about.” He trailed off, looking down at his lap. “I’m not sure why I get like this about it.”

“Shy?”

“I guess,” he said with a shrug.

“It’s okay,” Bones said. “Both to feel shy and to let yourself be vulnerable.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Bones grinned ever so slightly and Jim let out a laugh.

“Okay, maybe I’m not acting as if I do, but I promise I do. As for your idea- well, it’s not a bad idea, but-”

“But?”

“I don’t know if I want to turn it into therapy? Like, I feel like it would turn it into a chore of some kind and not something I get when I want it.”

Bones deflated. “That makes sense.”

“But,” Jim added quietly. “I, uh, can come to you when I need it. If that’s okay? So instead of a weekly thing it will just be a, uh, needed thing.”

“That sounds good actually. Well, it won’t be very different from what you’ve been doing anyway,” he said with a smirk and Jim flushed again. “But this time around I can stop pretending not to know what you want.”

“I knew you were playing dumb.”

“Well, if you wanna be vague you’ll have to deal with the consequences. So what should our code be? I assume you’re not gonna just ask for it.”

“Oh, uh.” Jim rubbed at his neck. “Maybe I can just say that I need it?”

“That works.”

“Bones.”

“Mm?”

“I need it.”

Bones was more than willing to comply, scooting closer immediately and going for his knees, squeezing just above the kneecaps and making Jim curl up with a surprised laugh. Nothing unusual. They’d done this so many times Bones could almost predict all of Jim’s reactions to this one sided tickle fight entirely correctly. It was familiar. It was safe.

Jim laughed and Bones tickled, one hand still on his knee while the other poked at his ribs, and Jim would eventually grab his wrists and hold onto them as Bones kept tickling, until it became too much and he would beg and fall to the floor, or something like that.

They’d done this before and would do it again.

#tickling #ticklish!jim #ticklish!kirk #mckirk #mckirk fic #n writes #a needed thing #star trek

62 notes · View notes

procrastinatorproject · 1 year

Text

Apparently, we are now moving fully into the realm of angst... 🙈

This chapter (of technically still the same story, though we are moving further away from the original prompt with every paragraph 😅) is veering into explicit AU territory of the "Everyone lives, no-one is turned into a Borg Queen" variety. I'm not sure how much I'll go into the details of how we got here, some of it will definitely come up during this chapter, but I haven't picked the fix-it version I like best for season 2. So for now, let's just say: "S2 happened mostly the same, except Agnes and Rios have returned safely with the rest of the motley crew."

(also: not sure how coherent this is, but it is late and I'm trying not to stay up until 2am for once. I'll do some proper editing before I post this to AO3 in the semi-near future 😋)

---

“How are you today, Dr Jurati?”

Despite herself, Agnes had to smile. “Emil, how many times have I told you to call me Agnes?”

“Force of habit.” She could hear that the EMH, too, was smiling. Or… he would have been smiling, if he currently had a physical matrix.

“How are you doing?” she asked, leaning back in her chair and looking at the ceiling. As an academic with contacts in faraway sectors, it wasn’t unusual for her to have calls that were voice-only. Even with the latest advances in subspace communications technology, the latency of inter-quadrant calls was greatly reduced if you didn’t try to submit an image at the same time.

Still, this wasn’t your average voice call, and it was difficult to stop herself from picking at the corner of the loudspeaker, where a slim gap had formed between rim and grill that was vibrating ever so slightly every time the device emitted the EMH’s voice.

Emil seemed to be pondering her question. After a long moment, he said: “All my systems are operating within normal parameters. The ones I have access to, anyway.” He sighed. “It really is rather inconvenient, but I suppose this has to count as an improvement.”

Agnes ran a finger along the edge of the speaker. “Well, I’m glad to finally be talking to you again.”

“We spoke only last week,” the EMH said mildly.

Agnes rapped a knuckle against the grill. “That wasn’t the same.”

There was a brief pause before Emil said: “No, it wasn’t.” Another pause, then: “I’m glad, too. I’ve missed our chats.”

For a moment, silence hung between them as each dwelt on their own thoughts. Finally, Emil made a noise like he was clicking his tongue, even though in his current state, he had neither the tongue nor the palate to perform this action. When he spoke, he sounded a lot more composed. “Commandr Barclay is to be commended; I didn’t expect he’d make progress this quickly.”

“I was pretty amazed, too. I guess the new algorithms helped more than we’d thought.” Agnes felt a familiar tingle on her right cheek and she started fiddling with the zipper-pull on the edge of her sleeve.

Even though he didn’t have any meaningful access to the ship’s visual sensors, Emil must have noticed her sudden discomfort, because he asked: “Would you like to talk about that?”

Agnes pulled the zip up a few centimetres, then back down to her wrist. “I’m really sorry we haven’t been able to fully untangle your programmes.”

“That’s not what I —”

“It should only be a matter of time now,” Agnes continued quickly. “I had a message from professor L’Nel this morning. She’s finally managed to look at the data we sent her, and she thinks we can significantly reduce the risk of algorithmic fragmentation. We’ll probably have to work backwards to your root architecture and save all alterations and augmentations along the way, but with a large enough external processor, it should be doable.”

“Dr Jurati…”

The zipper had gotten snagged and no matter how hard Agnes pulled, she couldn’t free it again. “I was thinking we might ask Seven and Raffi if they have time for a detour to Vulcan. I still have contacts at the Science Academy and who knows. With my new-found powers of persuasion, I might just get them to lend us their supercomputer for a few hours.” She was babbling now, but she couldn’t make herself stop. “It would take some time to iron out all the kinks in interoperability-interfacing, but now that Ian can help us with insights into Sirena’s computer system, we’re a lot closer to a solution.”

“Agnes.”

The zipper finally came loose, but she had pulled on it with so much force that it slipped over the delicate stopper at the hem of her sleeve cuff and landed on the desk with a quiet clink. Agnes took a deep breath, staring at her now permanently zipped-up sleeve. So much for getting unstuck…

#star trek picard #star trek picard fanfiction #agnes jurati #emil (emh)#i'm not 100% sure where i'm going with this #or whether anything in this bit is going to turn into An Metaphor(tm)#(i'm usually not good at doing those on purpose 😅)#so there might be some substantial editing before all is said and done #but maybe that'll be good motivation for a re-read if and when this goes up on ao3 🙈#anyway #lili's writing adventures #writing accountability #AND IT IS PRE-2AM! PROGRESS!!!

8 notes · View notes

c4rdsharp · 1 year

Text

LADD RUSSO. ( @closedcoffins )

“Shame,” Ladd says, sounding genuinely a little disappointed. “I’ve been meaning to pay him a visit, too. Guess there’s no help for it. And anyway, I can just pop by his casino at any time, can’t I?” He’d only guessed Firo because of that desire, thinking it might just be another coincidence that happened to line up with everything else going on. But the world doesn’t work that way, and it doesn’t really bother Ladd that he was wrong. And anyways, catching up with Luck on its own might not really be a terrible thing, even if what he’s apparently planning on doing is less than entertaining.

If you asked Ladd, he’d probably say Luck isn’t cautious enough when it comes to his own skin. Sure, the guy can’t die, but going into what he assumes are negotiations of some kind without anyone to back him up…? No matter how amicable you are with the other person, this is still the underworld. If Ladd didn’t know it was apathy rather than arrogance, it might have even ticked him off a little.

As it is, though, he doesn’t really care quite that much about Luck’s personal safety. At least, not enough that he’d bother pointing that much out.

“It’s your guys’ business, isn’t it? I won’t complicate things by forcing myself into it. I won’t deny that I’m curious, but I really can’t standing just sitting back and watching people talk knowing I’m not exactly in a position to do what I really wanna do.” Not if he won’t have an opportunity to get violent, anyway, which he doubts he will. For all he might be able to hold himself back, the simple fact is just that he doesn’t want to, which is why he suspects Luck had let him know about what kind of meeting it was instead of outright forbidding him from going. Being told ‘no’, all Ladd would have done was insist on knowing what the fuss was about anyway. “Besides, you’re right. I wouldn’t even be there without askin’ you to pay me for my time.”

Still, that doesn’t deter him from hanging by Luck in the meantime. It might not even deter him from hanging around nearby anyway, just in case things do go ass-up and he’s suddenly got a new means of entertainment. The chances of that kind of thing happening are low, sure, but they’re never impossible.

“You know me a little too well!” he declares, laughing pretty loudly. “But that’s about what I expected. I did think you’d probably done a pretty thorough background check on me. Any boss worth his salt woulda done the same, but most just tend to stick to word of mouth alone. To be honest, I’m just a little flattered you went to the trouble. People like you who put a little thought behind this sort of thing, especially when I’m involved, are one of my favorite kinds of people.”

He wonders again if Luck would think it through that intensely if Ladd expressed a desire to kill him without any hostility between them. If Luck would feel fear right before the world went black, forgetting he can’t die for a second and panicking.

Not right now. Cut it out. Even if I wanna do it, we’re right out here in public. That’s part of the reason I wanna hang around ‘til later, too.

" while i'm sure you've meant that in flattering terms, i doubt the wisdom in taking the compliment. " Luck's voice held a stern quality to it, as if he were trying to affect Ladd's carefree demeanor with his own restraint. Not that he figured it would work, mind you. Perhaps merely an odd force of habit ; Ladd's general amiability was not so unlike that of Maria's. Of course, she was less of a wild card -- whatever they shared in their mutual like of violence, Ladd was always off the deeper end. It wasn't as if Maria sought to kill people in totality ; it was often times merely a consequence of her need to 'slash' them, no different than a child who couldn't quite grasp the severity of their actions. Ladd, though . . . he was far from naive. In fact, Luck would even consider him cautious in his own right, despite the somewhat arrogant way he carried himself. Of course, that seeming 'arrogance' may just be a result of his self - certainty. Unlike Luck, Ladd was capable of far more violence and meeting trouble head - on with his own. The ability to fight, in this sort of world, allowed those a certain type of freedom Luck was not privy enough to gain. One may even consider it a privilege of the strong. The way Ladd, Claire, Maria -- hell, even the way Berga -- acts can be rooted down to this very notion. Less concern, less worry, because violence can be met with more undue violence. It is simply a matter of who's more brutal about it. Of course, that isn't to say Luck wasn't capable of his own sort of violence -- it just simply could not stand to the brutality of his peers. The only real time it could was when . . . was when their hands were tied to begin with. He refrained from wincing at the thought. " in either case, it would've been foolish for me not to see to your history. i may have agreed to handling you myself, supposing you stepped out of line, but my men and my brothers had not. there was far more than my own life at risk. a man who acts without thought & consideration will be met with the same demise. " Luck's mind turned the clock back to that fateful encounter in 1932, where Gustavo Bagetta met his due punishment by the 'hand' of Luck Gandor himself ( heh ). Perhaps a more merciful ending than most would allow -- he had, unfortunately, survived & was sent to prison after his recovery. From there, Luck lost word of where he went. Not that he particularly cared ; he was a threat subdued for a time, and it was very clear Don Bartolo had no intention of bringing Gustavo back into the Runorata ranks. Still, there was an unspoken curious itch in his head. Where had he gone to, and how has he been? Luck hoped it was terribly. Gustavo deserved nothing less than a life full of suffering for the suffering he had inflicted upon them. Luck turned a corner, brown eyes returning into clarity as he took in the somewhat familiar angle of the street. Not many people were out, in general. A few stragglers here and there, but far from the usual bustling crowds one may find around Times Square or Broadway. Even New York City, the constant beehive, had to have its slow days. " . . . if i may, a slight change in topic . . . you spent most of your life in Chicago, correct? i wonder how you've been faring in the Big Apple. is it to your liking, or are shall i be hearing complaints? " It was only a passing curiosity, and way to keep the conversation moving forward. Besides, Luck always did like to know how outsiders saw his beloved hometown.

#( in character. ) nemo me impune lacessit #( thread. ) ladd russo / closedcoffins ; 002 #( main. ) if there was any difference at all it was just one thing: they were villains.

1 note · View note

katnisscarter · 2 months

Text

Self image and self worth and self love blah blah blah man I’m tired of that shit. Honestly. Time is an illusion that seems to make sense to other people and never to me. I think the same thoughts I did at 15. I avoid the mirror when I’m naked just like I did at 16. And 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. You get the point. I look at my side profile and have to blink back tears. every. Single. Time.

I can’t handle other people taking my picture it absolutely sends me into a fucking panic attack. I never look right.

I stare at my face so long I don’t understand what I’m looking at anymore. Which, to be fair, I don’t really recognize her anyways. All I know is the same thoughts that plagued me then ruminate in my head making cozy homes of the corners.

I could tell you 100 things wrong with my body before I could tell you one thing right. And I get it. It’s not about me if you want to lose weight and work on yourself. I know that logically. You tell me the way you talk about yourself doesn’t apply to me. But I hear the way you say fat. I hear the way you say worthless. I hear the way you say ugly. How does that not apply to me too? I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been in my life right now and you can’t seem to escape the feeling of fat fast enough. How does that not affect me. You can work out. I fucking pull my shoulder at work six months ago and it’s still injured. My fucking wrist stops working if I do repetative motion too long. I can’t even hand write very fucking long anymore because it hurts. If I fucking sit for too long it hurts. If I stand for too long it hurts. It literally hurts to just walk the first time after sleeping a normal 8hrs like everyone else.

I remember the first time I cried in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet, begging myself to just throw up the food. I was 14. It sounds silly though, doesn’t it? That’s a kid. She’s just a baby. Why do I find myself 11 years later doing the same fucking thing. Even though it’s been years I still find myself staring at my naked body in the mirror and my eyes glance to the razor sitting in the shower. Force of habit I guess.

Like listen I understand that men have body issues too. I’m not denying that. I’m not saying hey you weren’t bullied too. But why is being thin so tied into being a woman. Like I don’t want to minimize your feelings but because im not skinny or slim in the right areas it’s like I’m less of a woman.

I guess maybe that’s what I’m struggling with. Feeling like a woman. I picked a pretty womanly profession though. Being a nurse is traditionally seen as a woman’s job. It includes being a nurse, a waitress, a maid, a therapist. It includes getting screamed at by patients and told you’re a fucking idiot. It includes being pinched or spit on or bit or called fat bitch but you just stand there because they’re confused, they don’t mean it.

Were those girls confused when they’d run away from me at 8 years old on the playground because I couldn’t keep up? Were those boys confused when they got their friend to ask me out as a prank in middle school? Was the girl who was my best friend who later wasn’t just confused when she told me I should kill myself because the world would be better off? Or that I was a cow. Was the 17 year old boy I let see me naked for the first time just confused when he turned away and left the room like I was too hideous to look at?

Maybe it’s because I spent so long picking myself apart when he cheated on me. I spent months trying to figure it out. What was wrong with me? A question I’d been asking for years. Was I not pretty enough? Were my boobs too small? Was my tummy too big? Was my laugh too loud? Was I too stupid? Was I too mentally ill? Was I crazy? I can’t seem to find the answer. No matter how hard I look.

Even now, with a partner who loves me so much. I still don’t feel right. There IS something wrong with me. Just no one in my life sees it right now. But other people have. She did. He did. He saw every ugly cracked piece of me and it was too much. Too much. Too much.

I just feel like I’m waiting for the day he comes home and tells me it’s too much. I’m too much. I’m too fat. I’m too ugly. I’m too stupid. I’m too sick. I’m too mentally ill. I’m too anxious. I’m too depressed. I’m too self conscious. I’m too sad. I’m too loud. I’m too weird. I’m too much to take care of. The day will come and I don’t think I can survive it. So I just don’t let anyone in anymore. It’s like I locked the door and threw away the key. I opened myself up to you completely and you ripped everything off the walls telling me it’s not enough, so now no one gets to see.

I look at old pictures sometimes. She has the prettiest smile. Shes so beautiful. She’s so happy. There’s a naivety in her youth. She doesn’t know what will happen. I yearn to be her again. To not know those things. To not feel entirely disconnected from myself. To feel like I can connect with people around me again. She looks so happy. She was happy to be with you. You look happy too you know. Your smile looks genuine. Bright. It travels all the way to your eyes. It’s like I can hear them laughing just in the other room. It’s warm.

But they’re not. Youre not here. She’s not here. It’s not what happened. And I guess that’s hard to explain to anyone in my life now. How that not being the reality hurts me so much. Not one fucking person understands it. I’ve just stopped talking about it. All anyone does is talk about the bad stuff. Or just tell me about how great my relationship now is. Which it is, i love him very much. But I can’t help to not look back. I can’t help to not look behind me. To wonder what that would have been. To wonder how they’d be living.

Everyone says to give it time. Time heals all wounds or whatever bullshit is in the self help books. Which I guess it does in some things. But it’s like there’s such a clear before and after. Before everything went to shit. And so much of what happened shook every single thing I knew about myself. Every single thing I was, just taken away from me. So that loss of innocence and loss of my first love is so intertwined I can’t help but feel like i want to go back sometimes. But I don’t know if I want you back so much as I want myself back. Because after you left I was so awful to myself it was new lows I didn’t know I could go. I want the naivety back. I want the belief that everything will be okay in the end back. I guess I just want hope back.

I just wish someone understood me. I just want someone to understand me like you did. To not get mad or judge me.

I just want someone to understand.

0 notes

syeunko · 2 years

Text

Bits & Bobs

Preface: There’s a Korean proverb that goes “시작이 반이다,” essentially translating to “starting is half the battle.” And while I understand the general sentiment behind it, sometimes starting is just that: starting. Especially when it comes to writing; it’s been years since I’ve attempted free-form writing that isn’t school related or emotion-fueled word vomit. So right now, writing, to me, is less of a conditioned practice and more of a distracted habit of flirting. I entertain whatever fanciful flight or notion that flits in and out of my whirlpool of a head. Subsequently, within the past 2 months or so, I’ve started four or five posts but haven’t had the gusto to see it through (save two, which I'm still working on). But as my favorite English teacher often quoted, “Don’t let perfect be the enemy of the good.” (or mediocre...) So here is an amalgamation of excerpts from said posts that will probably never see the light of day again. Also, I love semicolons.

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

I went to this Korean hair salon by my place, where I was immediately assaulted by the pungent, all-too-familiar smell of ammonia and other unpleasant fragrances. The nostalgia hit full force when I overheard the owner chatting with the teenage girl client’s mother about how it was important to listen to the kid’s specific requests, otherwise they’d be upset and blame you. It made me remember all the times I would relentlessly beg my mom to take me to the salon, convinced I would have my Princess Diaries moment, only to be devastated afterwards at the sight of my choppy full-frontal bangs, brassy yellow highlights, or tight poodle curls. Looking back, I laugh at how expectantly I’d placed all my secret girlish hopes into the unwitting hands of the hair salon ahjummas – I wasn’t simply looking for a nice perm, I was looking for this fantastical transformation into this pretty, popular girl. Alas, despite their best efforts with their chemically, potion-like concoctions, and skillful snippety snips with the shiny silver scissors, the ahjummas did not wield such magical power; I staunchly remained a four-eyed, chubby, ugly duckling.

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

It’s crazy stupid how my selective memory works because even though I fail to retain 90% of most things people tell me, I somehow remember “bougainvillea” being a quintessential Scripps National Spelling Bee word, despite my experience with it being over a decade ago. It reminded me of my mom again. She'd taken it upon herself to test my spelling in preparation for the bees, except she was unable to pronounce these lengthy, unfamiliar words. But no matter: she typed in every word into merriam-webster.com and clicked the sound icon, so we’d hear the proper pronunciation together. Every. Single. Word. She read the example sentences and all, albeit slowly, in true spelling bee fashion.

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

I was a pretty independent kid growing up. Or at least I’d like to think so - as independent as you can be as a dependent under your parents, anyways. One of my favorite stories my mom has told me was how on the first day of preschool, when all the other kids were crying and clutching their parents’ legs, I pushed my mom out the door and wouldn’t even let her come in. She had to peer in through the window to see how I was doing. I don’t know why I like this story so much; I suspect it’s because it serves as some kind of proof of my innate independence. I go back and forth often on whether I fall under this category of independence or not, partly because my understanding of it has been so construed over the years and has evolved a lot since.

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

Lol when I tried to do book reviews...I sound so stiff and the unfinished review is so basic....Also it's way too time consuming if I do it after every book I read, concluded I would rather read more books instead

Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath

5/5

Finishing this doorstopper of a book felt very much like reading a documentary (which I personally liked). This is one of the most painstakingly detailed, comprehensive books I’ve ever read, but the author did such a brilliant job in weaving all of it together (although I did skim some of the boring detailed parts lol)

I loved so many things about this book, despite not having read any of Plath's works. I appreciated how the author used Plath's poems, prose, sketches, journal entries, letters, testimonies, diaries, calendar, creative work, etc, and I resonated a lot with a lot of Plath's plights and thoughts. So many good quotes!

"Truly there are “masked words” abroad, and masked words have a strange, hypnotic power over us. Instead of asking oneself, “What does this term mean; what are the laws, the real ideals behind it?” we lazily accept the word and use it thoughtlessly in our own speech….We are skeptical about the value of our own thought.”

0 notes

tendouluvr · 3 years

Text

aizawa calling you clingy - gn reader

- [attempt at] angst to fluff

- warnings: being called clingy, aizawa gets annoyed with reader and berates them, one use of the word ‘shit’

- wc: 1.9k

a/n: this wasnt......as sad as i wanted... i cant tell if im just not so good at writing angst or immune to it T_T

once again, not edited!

#! aizawa!!!! eee

#! hes a levelheaded man so arguments are rare

#! u both trust one another so theres no reason to have doubts in ur relationship

#! being his s/o, he tells u things thats not so easy to tell others over time, and you’re patient enough to let him take however much time he needs to let u in

#! however, years of keeping to himself most of the time doesnt just disappear even if you’re his s/o

#! so aizawa does have this tendency to close off and distance himself from u bc of his stress and insecurities

walking through the spacious halls of ua, you were headed towards your lovely boyfriend. aizawas been pretty busy lately with teaching his class, making sure no one is being left behind progress wise, doing his job as a pro-hero, and then spending his free time training with shinsou.

you knew showing up at school unexpectedly was something aizawa found irky, that’s why you made sure to tell him the night before that you would be coming during lunch time to bring him some yummy homemade food.

humming softly to yourself, you finally reached the door opening to class 1-A and walked in. the classroom was empty, but there at the front was no one other than mr. aizawa shouta. you quickly greeted him with a smile and he turned to look at you.

“what are you doing here?” he slowly asked with a look of confusion.

“i brought you some food! did you eat yet? i hope not, i made-,” you quickly stopped talking once you noticed the look he was giving you.

“why are you here? i already told you, you shouldnt be showing up without letting me know first. our relationship is quiet, if the students see they’ll get noisy and ask questions, i’ll get bombarded by my colleagues, and it’ll put you in danger if words get out. did anyone see you coming here? can you listen to me for once instead of continuing to always be near me? you’re so damn clingy and need to start thinking about the consequences your action will bring. i already ate, just go home before anything happens.”

your jaw dropped a little after hearing what he just said to you. did he not remember what you told him last night?

worst of all, you couldnt believe he just called you clingy. you just wanted to do something nice for him by making his favorite food hoping that it’ll relieve some of the stress thats been building up, but he just thought of you as clingy.

fine, if clingy is what you are then you’ll stop bothering him. you quickly whispered an apology, not sure if he could hear or not, and began making your way back home as fast as possible. the food you made for him was still tightly grasped in your hand.

due to the new dormitories, aizawa stays at ua majority of the time. he comes home to your shared apartment whenever he can to spend time with you. unfortunately, those time aren’t usually much because as soon as he’s free, he’s quick to do something else.

once you’ve made it home, you packed the food away and put it in the fridge. you felt your phone buzzing repeatedly, already guessing who it could possibly be, you took it out to see it was your boyfriend.

shou <3: im sorry

shou <3: honey, im so sorry. pls text me back when u can

shou <3: i know what i said hurted u, but i promise u i dont mean it. pls just call me or text me so we can talk about this

shou <3: i have to go back now. but i love u. so much.

staring at your screen, you contemplated texting him back.

letting out a sigh, you decided not to.

putting your phone to the side, you walked to the bedroom and changed out of your clothes into the comfy pjs you were wearing right before you left.

seeing that there was nothing for you to do other than wallow in your insecurities and let out a few tears, you got into bed and made yourself comfortable for an afternoon nap.

aizawa on the other hand was at school and distracted. his own words kept replaying over and over in his head and all he wants to do is smack himself a few times (after comforting u ofc).

his students could tell he was in a badder mood than usual so they collectively agreed to not worsen it (one particular student does not care. can u guess?). aizawa just wanted the day to pass so he can apologize to you directly and make it up with some cuddling.

despite being distracted with planning his apology and thinking about you, he was still teaching as he should and constantly telling his students to be quiet because he’s intimidating like that.

a few hours passed, the students are back in their dorms and some of the teachers are still in school finishing up some work. the hallways were empty and silent, and the weather outside was nice and calm - not too sunny with just the right amount of wind.

however, if you were to peek your head inside of class 1-A at the moment, the environment is an exact 180. aizawa is quickly trying to grade the remaining stack of papers he has on his desk so he can leave as soon as he can. there’s papers everywhere, he’s not so sure where the answer key went off to but to hell with the answer key. he just needs to go home.

his hair is messily tied up and his lips have probably been gnawed off by now. as soon as school ended, he got out his phone to see if you replied and sadly you didn’t. he doesn’t blame you though, considering all of the shit he said to you earlier.

finally writing down the fat score in red pen onto the final paper, he gathers everything and put to the side of his desk and packed up his stuff. his stuff being his yellow sleeping bag and that’s it.

he went to his room first to clean himself up a bit, and then grabbed a taxi to go to your shared apartment. arriving at the front door, he takes out his copy of the key and entered.

first thing he noticed while entering and taking off his shoes was that the apartment was dark and quiet. he made his way to the kitchen first and turned on its lights to check the fridge. in the fridge laid the food you made for him earlier today. he took it out to start heating it up in the microwave then he walks away from the food and to your bedroom.

quietly opening the door, he poked his head in to see you laying on your side with your back facing the door. he assumed you were asleep and gently closed the door to not wake you up. he made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge of it.

you, feeling the bed dip, slowly opened your eyes to be greeted with the sight of your boyfriend gingerly brushing his fingertips across your cheekbones. he notices that you’re awake and looks up to meet your eyes.

making eye contact with him, you quietly grunted and brought the blanket up to cover your face while turning your entire body to the other side to ignore him. aizawa sighed and brought his hand down to rest on your waist as he begins talking.

“yn... i know you’re.. mad at me for the things i said to you earlier, but i’m truly sorry. i know saying i didn’t mean it isn’t good enough for you to forgive me, but i want you to know i’m really really sorry. i’ve been so busy for the past few days, my head is all over the place, seeing you at school just got me overthinking and worried that i ended up saying things about you that’s not true at all. i love you so much, hun. you’re the best thing to happen to me. you don’t have to forgive me now, i understand if you want some space.”

it was silent for some time after he finished his apology. the echoing silence was slowly making aizawa worried that you’ll leave him, but he won’t tell you that. thinking that you wanted space, he lifted his shaky hand off of your waist and moved to get off of the bed when you suddenly grabbed onto his hand to keep him there.

“i...i told you the day before that i was going to be visiting you during lunch time. did you not remember? or even hear me tell you?”

aizawa situated himself back down onto the bed before replying. “if i’m being honest, i don’t really remember much of that day at all. my brain was occupied with work and rest, so i was practically drained by the end of the night. i’m sorry i took it out on you, it’s my fault for overworking when i know you’ve been trying to help.”

letting out a soft sigh, you turned your body back towards him. still holding onto his hand, you carefully slotted your fingers in between his and pulled him down to lay with you. he immediately found comfort in this and placed his head into your neck. you could feel his facial hair against your skin making you let out a quiet giggle.

“i love you. i know you have a habit to overwork since that’s all you did before we dated, but please shou, take care of yourself. im not talking physically, cuz you’re already so damn fine, but mentally. i hate seeing you bury yourself in work and training that it even makes me tired just watching you.”

he grumbled something against your neck - his usual reaction to you complimenting him - and held onto you tighter while putting light kisses on your collarbone.

“i know. i will. please bear with me, i know i’m a pain but i’ll always try to be my best for you. i’m never letting you go, love you too much for that.”

“hmm? who said i’m going? you’re stuck with me forever just so you know,” you laughed and patted his head before rising from the bed.

“i heard you heating up the food earlier. get up and come eat,” you tugged aizawa to get him off the bed.

he grumbled once again because he was being forced to leave the warm comfort of your shared bed, but followed you out anyway holding onto your hand.

“wait. you heard me entering? so you were pretending to sleep when i got here?! not funny, babe. not funny. -also don’t take sleep for granted. i did and look where that got me. stop laughing!”

bonus:

it was the next day and aizawa just finished passing out the grades he rushed grading yesterday. even though it was rushed, he was confident that there wasn’t any mistakes-

“aizawa sensei, you marked this question wrong when it’s right. this one too. and this other one on the last page. are you trying to fail me?!” denki dramatically wailed as he showed aizawa his papers.

guess he did make mistakes after all.

1K notes · View notes

wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

All I Need is You

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You do so much for everyone else and so little for yourself that when you almost collapse, Loki finally gets you to agree to let him take care of you. Warnings: the reader skips some meals; a lot of fluff A/N: Its really just Loki taking care of you. But please remember to take care of yourselves too everyone!! Hope you enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedficrecs @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163 @lokislittlesigyn @wolfish-trickster

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki was watching you even more carefully than normal these days. Yes, you’d caught his eye even on your first day in the Tower back when you were just a new recruit, a SHIELD agent with some kind of sixth sense that let you anticipate things, recently transferred to the Avengers Tower. Even now no one was entirely sure if it was a power or just an uncanny knack you had that made you extremely good at your job. Regardless, the trickster god could see how the ability had shaped you.

You’d only been in the Tower a week when you’d started running errands all over the city, offering things to people before they could even think they needed it themselves, then going to pick it up for them. Loki had declined the offer after hearing all the places you were already going. He’d hoped it was a fluke, that you wouldn’t make it a habit of taking care of everyone. Not that it was inherently bad, he just knew how tiring it could be to please everyone, worried that you would burn out. Of course, you had kept doing it, and his worries turned out to be justified.

“Darling, are you going out again?” Loki asked as you passed his seat in the common room on your way to the elevator. He set his book down, frowning. “Did you not just go yesterday? Unless, of course, this time it is for you. Then by all means, please be on your way.”

“No... It’s just Steve and Bucky were talking about some cereals they used to like and we don’t have any in the Tower so...” you trailed off, shuffling your feet.

“And can they not wait for it until the next scheduled trip to the supermarket?”

“Well, yeah, they said they could. But I don’t mind.”

Loki stood and sighed, walking over to you. Gently, so you didn’t have to comply if you didn’t want to, Loki lifted your chin to look at him. You looked tired. Admirable as it was that you wanted to do things for others, you needed a rest day.

“And tell me, darling, when was the last time you did something for yourself?” He waited a moment for an answer, but was met with silence. “What about that drawing you started two months ago? Have you worked on that more?”

“It wasn’t any good, anyway,” you shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“It was wonderful,” he reassured you. “What about eating, though? Have you eaten today?”

“I... I had a mint.”

“That does not count.” Now he was outright worried. You did this every once in a while, saying you just got so caught up in other things, you forgot to eat. Whatever the reason, it troubled Loki. “You have had some water at least? You know what, do not answer. I am sure I know already. Just wait here a moment.”

You waited by the lift as Loki padded to the kitchen, searching for a water bottle. The problem went beyond just these shopping trips. Sometimes when Tony or Bruce got stuck on one of their projects, you’d pore over books and blueprints for hours, searching for the answer, losing sleep. Then other times, you took it upon yourself to plan events for the team. It was more than a simple, casual invitation. No, it usually involved at least three days of extensive planning. Everyone enjoyed them and was appreciative, needing a break from their day-to-day lives, but it just took up more of your time and brainpower. Pile that onto your own training and missions, it was enough to wear anyone out.

But what he both loved and hated the most was how you’d always be there to talk. Not just for him, but for everyone. And not merely a laid-back chat, either. No, they were practically therapy sessions. Again, just like all the other things you did, that would be all fine and good, except for the fact you never talked about your own issues. You just did so much for everyone else and practically nothing for yourself, even something so basic as remembering to eat, that it broke Loki’s heart a little more every day.

“Here,” he said, handing you the plastic bottle. “But I am coming with you.”

Smiling brightly, you led the way out into the city streets. You chatted as you went about your task, and Loki was yet to take his eyes off of you. It wasn’t until you started the journey back, however, that he began to grow worried. You hadn’t taken even the smallest sip of the water he’d fetched for you, and on this hot day, it was clearly taking its toll. You stumbled a little, suddenly looking more out of it than Loki could stand. He gently gripped your arm to steady you and led you to a bench. Grabbing the water out of your backpack, Loki uncapped it and held the bottle to your lips.

“Drink,” he ordered, but with kindness in his tone.

One of your hands that was gripping the bench a bit too tightly in an attempt to ground your dizzy mind came up to take the bottle from him. Complying, you downed nearly half the bottle in one gulp. It seemed that was a mistake as your empty stomach gargled, rebelling against the sudden intake. Loki rubbed large circles on your back while you scrunched your eyes closed, breathing deeply as you tried to force yourself to feel better.

“Are you alright, darling?” Loki asked when you felt well enough to take another few small sips. You nodded your head, eyes still closed. “Now do you see why it is important to take care of yourself? Will you please get some rest this afternoon?”

“I’m fine, really. Don’t worry, I-”

“That is madness!” Both Loki and you flinched at his sudden increase in volume. He removed his hand from your back, feeling unworthy to make contact with you after snapping like that. You were his friend, and he was yelling at you for something like this? It made him disappointed in himself. He sighed. “Listen, I am sorry. All I mean is I care about you. I do not like to see you like this. It is not healthy, and I believe you know that.”

You opened your eyes, blinking at him. “You-you care about me?”

Loki felt heat flood to his cheeks as he realized that he had, in fact, said that. “I do. So will you please let me take care of you?”

You bit your lip for a minute. “I will,” you sighed, giving in.

Satisfied, Loki coaxed you into accepting a piggyback ride the rest of the way home. You placed your forehead in the crook of his neck, enjoying his cool skin against yours, which was noticeably overheating. He quickly tossed the grocery bags of cereal onto the counter and brought you to your room, your own little pocket of the world that you trusted Loki enough to share with him if even for a moment. Laying you down on your bed, he told you to rest for a minute, lips placing a ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

The god moved to your bathroom, looking for what he needed. After preparing a bubble bath with nice, cool water, Loki left you to sink into it with only the order to relax. While you did, he hurried to prepare you a light meal, something that wouldn’t upset your stomach. When you padded out of the bathroom in the soft pajamas Loki had left for you and saw the meal on a tray on your bedside table, a smile tugged at your lips.

Loki peeled back the silken sheets he’d put on your bed so you could get under them. With a little bit of difficulty—Loki never had gotten a firm grasp on understanding Midgardian technology—he flipped through the channels on your TV until you found something you wanted to watch while you ate.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked once you were done eating, before leaving you to your own devices.

You bit your lip as you thought before ultimately shaking your head no. “I’m good thanks.”

“Please, darling, be honest with me,” he pleaded. “Anything you want. Name it, and it is yours.”

“Will you stay with me?” you blurted out. “No, I’m sorry, that’s ridiculous. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Darling,” he tsked. “The only thing on my schedule today is taking care of you.”

You smiled as he slid under the sheets next to you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you onto his lap. You twisted your body so you could look at him and tuck a few locks of his raven hair behind his ear. You were living in your own place in time, the two of you finding a safe haven in each other’s arms.

“You know what would make me really happy, Loki?” you began. “If I got to give you a little, thank you. Would that be alright?”

The god hesitated for a moment. “I suppose. Depending on what it is.”

“Can I... Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

“Well, that depends, again.”

“On?”

“On whether or not we can make it a regular occurrence,” Loki replied with a playful grin.

“You know, you are always saying I should do things that make me happy. So yes, yes we absolutely can.”

“In that case,” he said, already leaning in, “what are you waiting for?”

Giggling, you bridged the gap between you. As Loki smiled against your lips, he realized something. No matter how stubborn either of you were when it came to accepting help for yourselves, you’d always have the other to take care of you. And even more importantly, Loki thought, you’d have each other to love.

505 notes · View notes

helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Why Couldn’t it Have Been Me?

Part 2

Paring: Wilbur Soot x reader (past), Ghostbur x reader

Disclaimer: This contains major spoilers for Tommyinnit’s 4/29 lore stream

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, near death, cheating, 4/29 lore stream, grief, blood, injury, panic attack

Word count: 6,737

(A/N): So in this, you’re Schlatt’s twin and Puffy’s your older sister. Also, sorry for any mistakes, I typed a good 2/3 of this on my phone

This was your own personal hell: being trapped within cement walls with your ex fiance, your asshole of a brother, and a Dream wannabe that seemed to never lose any energy. Your life was like a trope in a novel alive you would’ve liked, however being cursed to live in it made you absolutely loathe any and all mention of it.

Alive you would’ve killed to hang out with your brother again, not the one that turned to the bottle. Alive you would’ve craved the sweet melodies that streamed from Wilbur’s mouth. You would’ve swooned and maybe, just maybe, you would’ve forgiven him. Alive you would’ve perhaps liked this ‘Mexican Dream’ guy, you would’ve perhaps become the best of friends.

However you despised the three locked up with you with your whole heart.

Your ex fiance was someone you adored. Hell, you even idolized him when you were alive. The Wilbur you knew was sweet, loving, attentive, and just all around someone that you swooned over. You could still remember how your heart exploded when he first asked you out under the setting sun by the ocean. You remembered every song he's written for you, every word and rhythm by heart, even after all these years.

You remembered how you felt your heart completely shatter when you found the songs he had in his drafts for someone that wasn't you. Someone by the name of 'Sally'. After a heated argument you had broken up with him, taking the engagement ring off from your finger and throwing it deep into the ocean. You stayed on L'Manberg's side even after all that, too loyal and proud towards the country you helped forge to drop it. You wouldn't let some stupid boy or rabid tyrants prevent you from raising your beautiful nation up from the ashes.

That had been your downfall. You should've listened to Puffy and left the country behind when you had the chance, now you paid the ultimate price for your deep rooted loyalty and devotion towards independence. And your sacrifice didn't even matter in the end! Your deranged ex blew it all to smithereens. If you didn't despise him before, you absolutely did after your dumbass twin told you about his little 'escapades' while you were gone.

Every little thing Wilbur did, no matter how small it was, made you hate him even more. Every time he would shuffle those damned cards, it made you want to rip them to shreds and throw them across the train tracks. Every time he would sing or even breathe, you wanted to strangle him. You were absolutely certain that Schlatt felt the same.

Oh, your twin was a real card. Always boasting about how his horns were bigger than yours (who even cares anymore? Yours grew in first anyways), telling the others about your shortcomings through crude jokes, even going as far as fighting you through headbutting; you could still feel the pain of being beaten to death before respawning immediately. Schlatt hadn’t known that you respawn even in the afterlife, so you knew he was serious about killing you. You just wanted Puffy, she was far more tolerable than your twin.

The rustling of his suit jacket and his small grunts and pants resonated within the walls as he did various forms of exercising. You now knew about all of the differing variations of a pushup and you hated yourself for listening to his explanations. He would beg you, Mexican Dream, and Wilbur to stand on his back while he did his endless routines. The only one to readily take him up on that offer was Mexican Dream.

That man was arguably the only one you slightly tolerated, and you said that very lightly. He was still annoying as all hell, but he was a new face. Well, one that you didn’t know well enough to have a grudge against while you were alive. It was slightly refreshing, in a sense. When he first got here, his songs, stories, and humor gave you a nice break away from Wilbur’s depressing songs and Schlatt’s crude jokes. However when you spend eleven years trapped in a cage with one person, everything they do becomes the bane of your existence.

You were running out of things that kept you sane in this dump. You've read the same novel, counted the same ceiling and floor tiles (32 ceiling tiles and 57 floor tiles exactly), traced the same cracks in the walls, temporarily killing the same cellmates, you've done anything and everything that this cesspool had to offer. You've done everything billions of times over, a never ending cycle of monotony.

Tommy joining your group of miserable has-beens was perhaps the highlight of your fifteen, almost sixteen, years spent in this shithole. Though he finally dropped the brave facade and showed just how broken down he was after everything he’s been through, having him around was the saving grace to your sanity. He told you how your sister was, how your nephews were, and most importantly what you missed. You knew about all of the events leading up to Mexican Dream's death, but you were left in the dark with everything past that. Ender, you missed so much since you died; It baffled you how much you missed.

When the train actually stopped at your cell instead of just passing by and it's doors opened, you were just expecting another poor soul to be dropped off here. You could imagine everybody's surprise when none other than Dream stepped out of those doors. The nephew that had betrayed you without a second thought, that had murdered you, that had your severed head displayed on his mantle (you weren't sure the truth of that last statement, Tommy has a habit of over exaggerating. Though, Schlatt did say that your body was found with a missing head when you first forced him to tell you what you missed). Tommy talked to you about how he died only once, so you knew just what your nephew has been up to. It infuriated you knowing that your adult nephew was manipulating and abusing this young teenager.

While you were releasing your pent up frustrations on the masked man, he merely brushed past you and drug Tommy into the train by the arm. You could remember Wilbur banging on the doors begging for Dream to return his little brother and his angered screams echoing down the railways as the train sped off back towards the land of the living.

Lucky Tommy, he got to live out the rest of his life and actually age. You and your crew of intolerable jesters were stuck together once again.

Everybody was silent for a few months, reeling at the newly discovered fact that Dream could actually resurrect people. During those three months, they were quiet and tolerable. In a way, the talks that came out of it was like one of those family therapy sessions your older sister would hold in the living room (you remembered how she would grab you and Schlatt by the horns if either one of you refused to go). You would kill to attend one of those therapy sessions again, and this is the closest you were going to get to it.

You all talked about the things you regretted most while you were alive. Mexican Dream's was that he didn't protect his girlfriend Mamacita well enough. Schlatt's was choosing alcohol and power over his family (tears were especially shed over Tubbo, he really did regret abandoning him to be raised by you). Yours was that you were too loyal to a cause that would be absolutely decimated a short while after you sacrificed everything for it. Surprisingly, Wilbur's was that he had hurt you.

He had begged and groveled for forgiveness, telling you that he just didn't feel that special connection with you anymore. That didn't take away from the fact that he was seeing another while you two were still dating and that he blew up your life's work. He had stolen everything from you, and you would never forgive him for that.

After you made your thoughts on him completely clear, he had started treating you like you treated him in the last few months. Tension was building up between you two that had laid dormant for thirteen and a half years like a rope pulled taut about to snap.

Everybody had slowly returned to their annoying selves slowly but surely. Schlatt resumed his workout routine, Mexican Dream had started loudly singing and ranting about Mamacita's everlasting beauty again, and Wilbur eventually started up his solitaire and songwriting once again.

The three of them made you want to rip off your twisting horns and shove them in your ears in hopes of muffling them, but you knew that whomever put you here would restore your hearing and make your horns regrow. You knew that first hand after you spent a couple of years alone in this hellhole; breaking your horns off by repeatedly banging your head against the dull stone walls in a manic state was never fun. The regeneration of the keratin only slightly stung, it was like you were a kid and they were growing in for the first time again.

You felt your eye twitch as Wilbur sang about that damned train for the umpteenth time since he arrived. It’s always ‘train this' and ‘train that' and quite frankly you were sick of it. You were sick of him.

“Shut the fuck up about that damned train,” Schlatt seethed. You never once thought you would ever agree with your twin, but here you were nodding in agreement and shooting a glare at Wilbur’s direction. The brunet merely stopped his singing and reshuffled his cards, the sound making an ugly cacophony and grating at your ears.

“Not my fault you two don’t want to talk to me. I’m just making due with what I’ve been given.” He dealt the cards out in piles and started yet another game of solitaire. Seriously, how many games of solitaire can one play before they lose it? You supposed that you’d find out soon, Wilbur has been playing that monotonous card game nonstop for thirteen and a half years.

“Yeah, let the hombre chill! I like his music.” The masked man reached up to stroke his goatee, the scratching sound further penetrating your focus on your book.

Everything was quiet before Mexican Dream's voice pierced it, "hey, did I ever tell you guys how beautiful my Mamacita was?"

"You told us millions of times, fuckface. You narrate entire love letters daily, so how could we not know how 'beautiful' she was?" You complained, not once looking up from your book. Schlatt snorted to himself and returned to his workout. Mexican Dream crossed his arms in anger, cursing you out under his breath. Wilbur merely glanced at you and rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm tired of your bitchy attitude. Let him talk about Mamacita, it's not his fault every time you think you love someone it fails."

Your grip on your book tightened impossibly. If it were physically possible, the book would be crumbling to dust in your voice grip. You practically see red as you slowly dog-eared the worn page you were on and put your book down.

"Oh shit," you heard Schlatt mumble and move away from you, Mexican Dream following suit. When you both were alive, your anger was always something you knew Schlatt feared. However, you knew that he's never seen you this angry; nobody has. The majority of what you've been holding in for almost fourteen years is about to be unleashed.

"You know what I'm sick of, Wilbur?"

"Oh, do enlighten us."

"I'm sick of each and every single one of you. You three have been absolutely intolerable ever since you arrived. I was doing just fine alone and the universe just had to fuck everything up for me, just like it always does."

"There you go again," Wilbur laughed sardonically, "making everything about yourself." He gathered his cards and shuffled them repeatedly.

"I make everything about myself?! Do you even hear yourself? Mr. Oh-I'm-such-a-disappointment-to-Philza, you wallow in self pity twenty-four seven! You fucking write every single song about yourself!”

"I didn't want to come here, okay?! I didn't think it was gonna be like this! God, I might as well be in hell with you here."

"Believe me, my hell started fourteen years ago when you guys started showing up," you growled out, your ears flattening to the sides of your skull.

"Have you ever stopped to think that you're our hell? All you've done since we came here was complain and be a massive douche to all of us." He fluttered through the deck more and more as the argument escalated, the noise making you want to scream until you tasted blood.

"I'm the one that's in the wrong here? You fucked up my entire life. He," you pointed at Schlatt, "keeps beating me to death. And he," you jutted your chin towards Mexican Dream, "never shuts the hell up… Would you stop with that damn deck?! You're literally so fucking annoying."

He narrowed his eyes, "make me."

A mixture of an animalistic growl and a guttural scream left your lips as you charged at him, your head tilted downwards so he could feel the brunt of your horns. He moved out of the way just in time, the side of your horn brushing against his arm. You crashed head first into the stone wall before you stabilized yourself and looked at the brunet with seething hatred.

He was staring at you in shock, "how're you-" You used his shock to your advantage, throwing a right hook at his face. His head whipped to the side and his body followed, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"How am I still conscious? I'm a ram hybrid, dumbass. What'd you expect?" You huffed angrily before you pried the cards out of his hand and stalked over to the tracks.

He scrambled up to stop you, but before he could even reach you, you held the deck over the tracks and looked down at him. You could just imagine how your horizontal pupils were blazing with fury.

You reveled in the betrayal and animosity gleaming in his eyes as you dangled the thing he held dearest in this hell over the railroads. If you were to drop them, he'd never be able to see them again.

"We promised not to touch belongings on our first day here!" He yelled at you, his hands wrung in front of him nervously hiding the slight tremor. "Our first day here?" You scoffed, "the last time I checked, I was here for two years before any of you showed up." You gestured around the room in one angry swipe, the cards slipping slightly with how sweaty your hands were. It was then that you saw the fear in Schlatt's eyes. Good, that bastard should be scared of you. "If anything, you all are in my domain."

Wilbur flinched at the sight of the cards slowly slipping out of your hand, his breath hitching and panic stricken across his features. Mexican Dream stood up from his place and put his hands up. He was slowly approaching you like you were a cornered wild animal, making sure that you saw his every move.

He nervously chuckled, "let's just put the cards down and have a nice talk. Doesn't that sound better than this, mi amigo?"

You shook the cards once again, taking in Wilbur's silent anguish with glee. "I'm not your friend, I'm anything but. Don't tell me what to fucking do or else that picture of Mamacita is the next to go."

"...Okay, you're in charge, man. Do what you want." He reluctantly sat back down next to Schlatt. The ram was watching in fear, yet it looked like he was entertained with what was happening. You couldn't blame him, the last interesting thing that happened was three full months ago when Tommy was taken. That and you probably looked feral at the moment.

"You understand that if you drop those, they're lost forever right?"

You threw your head back and laughed, "of course I know, why do you think I only have one sock? I already tried that shit out before you came." You hummed to yourself in thought, then grinned. Wilbur was going to love this.

While you shuffled the deck, you kept a close eye on the movement happening inside the cell. Another perk to being a ram hybrid was that you had a nearly 360 degree scope of everything around you. The only movement happening was the panicked breaths from Wilbur, good. You huffed in amusement, "alright Wilbur, let's do a card trick. I'd ask you to pick a card, any card, but I don't want to risk you fucking shit up again. So, I'm just going to draw for you." You drew a card from the middle of the deck and showed it to him. "The eight of clubs, how fitting."

"(Y/n), I don't know what you're getting at, but if you don't give me those cards right now-"

"Shut it, I'm not done. I'm going to shuffle this back into the deck, watch the hands." You kept eye contact with him as you shuffled the cards rigorously, the card you pulled long since hidden with the slight of a hand. After a bit of shuffling and reshuffling, you had sneakily put the card between the two halves and bridged them until the cards were in one pile with the eight of clubs on top.

You chuckled and pulled the top card, once again showing it to him. "Is this your card?"

He nodded slightly, never once taking his eyes off from the deck. "Yes, now give it back to me!" The angry and anxious undertones were like music to your ears.

You tapped your chin in thought, "hm, I don't think I will. You've taken so much from me, it's only fair that I get some revenge." Without another word, you threw the cards behind your head and smiled widely at the sound of the fluttering down to the tracks.

Wilbur launched himself forward with a frantic yell, his hands flailing to catch all of the cards before they were lost forever. He only succeeded in catching a few.

His breath shuddered as he stared at the three cards in his hand: the five of diamonds, the four of spades, and the seven of hearts. The fate of the universe was on your side for once, perhaps preternaturally so.

"You- do you realize what you just did?!" He spun around to face you. If humans could froth at the mouth, a full waterfall would be streaming through his gritted teeth. His eyes held the rage of a man that had just lost everything in one singular instant, the resentment swirling in his dark brown orbs. Several veins were bulging in his face and neck, painting the skin in a red hue.

You walked over to your book and plopped yourself down. "Yeah," you said with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. You opened up your book and started reading it again, leaving the man to his grief.

Everything was quiet once more much to your delight. Though you read this book from cover to cover thousands of times, enough to know most of the words by heart, you were never able to fully enjoy and immerse yourself in it with them around. You took this time to reclaim your designated corner and spend some quality time reading.

You spent hours with your nose buried deep in your book, savoring the peace. That was until it was snatched out of your hands and ripped away from you. You looked up in slight shock at the sight of Wilbur snapping it shut and walking over to the tracks.

No. No. Nononono he can’t. That was the only thing keeping you sane. He can't just get rid of it when he's done so much towards you when you were alive.

A wail left your mouth as you tackled him to the ground, your arms wrapped around his midsection. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his forehead smacking against the painted yellow stone. You straddled his back and ripped the book away from him, throwing it across the room and away from the tracks.

You grabbed a fist full of his hair after yanking off his beanie and tossing it into oblivion with his precious cards. You pulled his head up and leaned close to his ear, "you try that shit again and your hat and cards won't be the only things lost to the void." Venom was seeping through your every word, "do you understand me?"

He merely jerked his head to the side, colliding it with your nose and mouth. You shouted in surprise and let him go in favor of holding your aching nose. You could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from it. Through teary eyes, you looked up at Wilbur as he grabbed your book and flung it against the wall of the opposite side of the tracks. You scampered to the edge and watched in horror as it disappeared into the void.

Without warning, you were forced to the ground, a hand holding you by a horn and a knee between your shoulder blades. You struggled before a dark chuckle was heard, "if you keep moving, you'll slip! Do you really want that?" You begrudgingly stopped, realizing that he had all the power in this situation. If he wanted to, he could just slide you off from the platform and toss you away like throwing a piece of paper into the trash.

"Good, you're not as stupid as you were earlier today." He slid you forward, holding your upper body over the tracks by the horn. You came face to face with the swirling abyss that was the void, small shapes appearing from your eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of visual stimulant. Your breathing picked up as he lowered you slightly, "you don't wanna do this."

"No, I do. Thirteen and a half years of having to be around you was hell, but the shit you pulled today just put the icing on the cake. Do you have any last words before you go?"

You grunted as he shook your head slightly, a slight pain coming from the base of your horn. "Fuck you."

"How appropriate, now let's see if you'll come back this time. It'll be our fun little science experiment!"

He dropped your horn without a care in the world, sending you plummeting to your demise. A terrified scream ripped it's way out of your throat and you screwed your eyes tightly shut in preparation for the void. Your body came to a jerking halt as you held your breath, preparing for… whatever awaited you. However, nothing came.

You cracked open an eye only to be met with the uncanny inkyness, the invisible mist freezing your face and its frostbitten arms opened wide for you. But you never fell into its embrace.

Instead, you were pulled back onto the platform. You laid on your stomach with your horn supporting your head staring at the wall, tracing every single nook and cranny of the bricks. Your chest heaved as you greedily gasped for air. You never thought you'd be so relieved to see the cement walls you've been trapped in for over a decade and a half.

You were once again pulled up into a now sitting position and leaned against the wall, your back touching the cool cement. Across from you, you saw Mexican Dream pinning a struggling Wilbur down to the floor. Wilbur's crazed eyes met you, piercing through your very being. However, that didn't affect you in the slightest; you almost were just wiped from existence completely, you stared into the abyss and it stared back at you.

You felt… strange, to say the least. While icy fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt warmth blossoming in you at the same time. It was like the void was an actual person, politely giving you some form of relief from the hell you've been subjected to for over a decade and a half. It was so welcoming, not terrifying like you initially thought it was. When your fingertips grazed its surface it felt freezing to the touch, yet you felt the staticky power it was showing you. In that split moment of touching it, you had already accepted the power it held over you.

A hand softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon, (y/n). Talk to me." Your eyes drifted lazily to your twin. He was extremely pale, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of responsiveness. When you looked at him, he visibly relaxed. "It was so… so beautiful, Schlatt."

"Yeah, what the actual fuck did you just say? You almost just- just died for good dumbass." He looked at you incredulously, you could just see the cogs in his brain working hard to process what the hell he was seeing.

You looked back at Wilbur, he had stopped struggling slightly and was instead looking at you with a hint of confusion shining through the crazed daze. Mexican Dream tilted his head, the mask skewing slightly to the side of his face. "Thank you, Wilbur. You've shown me that there's… there's more to this hellhole than suffering. There's beauty in the darkness." His struggling had come to a complete halt, now staring at you with the most confusion you've ever seen from him. You also saw a very small hint of fear from deep within his irises.

A calloused hand gripped your chin and forced you to look back at your twin. "What are you on," he hissed lowly, "the stuff that's comin outta your mouth right now is actually batshit insane. He almost just permanently murked you and you're fucking thanking him."

"I haven't felt this at ease in nearly two decades. I feel ethereal, Schlatt, and it's all thanks to him." You let your eyes drift over to Wilbur. Giving him a content smile, you nodded your thanks at him.

The next few days went by tensely for the others, eyeing your every move and keeping you away from the ledge. You had only peered over the ledge once since then, it was just so alluring to you. It was nothing, yet everything at the same time. Mexican Dream had pulled you back to the opposite end of the room by your horns. The part that disturbed the three men was that you said absolutely nothing about it. You didn't even struggle against it, you just laid limp and let it happen.

With each passing second you spent away from the void, the feeling of utter peace was rapidly draining from your body; instead being replaced by icy fear, paranoia, and the realization that you were almost completely swallowed whole by the void.

After coming back to your senses, you didn't allow anybody near you. Your instincts going haywire and screaming that they were going to hurt you if they came close. The last time Schlatt tried touching you, you damn near took his finger off. They didn't bother trying to approach you anymore, instead glancing at you from the corners of their eyes. Wilbur was perhaps the one you feared the most, you knew that if he didn't hesitate to toss you away the first time, he would surely do it a second time. He spent most of his time staring at you, you didn't know if he was zoned out or not.

Everybody was against you, you knew it. You just knew it. They were plotting to toss you back into the void. That thing- or was it an entity? Whatever it was held a power over you that you didn't know was possible. That trance that it put you in, the craving you felt, was something that was repeating like a broken record in your mind. You could still feel the void calling out to you, it was terrifying.

You spent most of the time huddled in your corner staring at the fingers that had grazed the textured nothingness. You could still feel the buzzing and popping of the power on your fingertips, that inky residue staining your skin wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed, scratched, or scraped, it would not leave your body. It was freezing.

The oncoming train screeching to a gradual stop was perhaps the only thing you fully acknowledged outside of your safety bubble in days. You watched in shock as it stopped at the platform. The doors opened with a fwoosh, fog pouring out onto the smooth stone floors.

Out stepped Dream, the smile etched into his cracked mask sent chills to your core. Next to him was… was another Wilbur? How in the name of Ender was that even possible?

This Wilbur was different though. This one was desaturated. This one didn't have an insane glint in his eyes, this one had grief shimmering in the tears that steamed on his cheeks. This one was broken compared to the well established man against the wall. This one was defenseless.

Dream shoved him to the center of the room, the man falling to his hands and knees. Sobs escaped his mouth as steam left his skin and drifted along the sides of his face before dissolving into the air.

"Got a new plaything for you guys, this one isn't as… fun as Wilbur is though." Dream's head turned towards you before it tilted. "What happened there? Did our dear little (y/n) get too close to the void?"

"They are none of your concern, pandejo," Mexican Dream seethed at his counterpart from his position next to the train. "Why are you even here, man?"

"Oh, I'm just here to make a trade. I'm afraid that I'll have to give you guys Ghostbur here in exchange for Wilbur."

Wilbur stared at him with pure hope and glee springing up in his eye for the first time in over a decade. "Really?"

Dream chuckled, "yes, really. What, do you really think I'd lie to you?"

"I don't know, ya smiley freak. You've been known to fuck people over." Schlatt scoffed, his ear flicking in annoyance.

"I'm telling the truth this time. Wilbur, come with me."

Stars shone in his eyes as he reveled in the sight of the open train doors. He followed the masked man with a skip in his step, ecstatic giggles leaving his mouth as he boarded.

Anger flooded you as you purse your lips together and you darted towards the train. The doors were closing already, if you could just-

The door shut with a clank, blocking you from freedom. Your clenched fists banged against the window, glowering at the sight of Wilbur's happiness and Dream looking at you with a wave.

"You fucking bastard! Take me, he doesn't deserve it! He threw his goddamned life away, you're wasting your time with him!" Your angry shouts were ignored by the two however as the train once again started moving with a small hiss.

A frustrated scream left your mouth as you pummeled the iron with your fists as it moved. If only you could find a train car to jump onto-

Now. You leapt from the platform towards the junction between two of the train cars. However, your leap of faith was set to a halt midair by Schlatt holding your upper arms. You thrashed against him, desperate to get back to the land of the living, desperate to leave this godforsaken hell called the afterlife, but once again, you were torn away from what you were trying to achieve.

You fell limp as you watched the last train car pass the platform and disappear down the tracks and into the void. The next possible time it would show it’s face would be in a few months if you were lucky. You let him take you back to your corner, your feet limply being drug against the floor. After you were plopped back down, you stared at the clone of your ex. You were pretty sure Dream said that his name was ‘Ghostbur’. What a strange name, yet you supposed that it was fitting for Wilbur’s apparition.

“Are ya done with your little ‘moment’, (y/n)?” Schlatt was kneeling in front of you, his hands prepared to grab you if you made a run for it. Though his tone was annoyed, you could detect the very small worried undertone of his voice.

You nodded and watched as he took a seat next to you, also staring at the newcomer. This is the closest he’s sat next to you in years.

“...What do you think of the clone over there?” You hummed to yourself, “he looks pathetic, but I think that might be the only thing he and Wilbur share.”

Mexican Dream took a seat next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. Normally, you would’ve shrugged him off, but you were too emotionally drained to do so. “Si, he does look kinda weak. But I think our new hombre here has promise.”

“Promise for what?” Schlatt snorted. Mexican Dream hesitated, “...I don’t know. This is gonna be interesting, mis amigos.”

“The party’s just begun, boys. Buckle up, this is gonna be a wild fucking ride.” You mused to them, unsure of what the future would hold with the newcomer. Though after a couple of years, you were sure you were going to hate him; that is if he’s nothing like his clone. Ender help you if he’s anything like Wilbur.

As you stared at the broken man, you couldn’t help but wonder: why did he get to go back? As far as you were concerned, psychopaths like him do not deserve a second chance at life. If anything, it should be you boarding that train. It should be you getting a second chance. He was the one that so readily threw his life away while you had yours ripped away from you.

One continuous thought was circling in your mind: why couldn’t it have been me?

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

You wrung your hands together as you anxiously waited for Tommy, Ghostbur, and Friend outside of Pandora’s Vault. Ranboo and Tubbo sat next to you in the grass, giving you silent comfort with their presence. You were mainly worried for your boyfriend, his worst fear was Dream using the resurrection book on him. You had calmed him down from a panic attack prior to meeting up with the teenagers, begging him to let you go in his place. Of course, Ghostbur being the caring and brave soul he was, wove you off and ensured that he’d be okay.

When you saw someone emerging from the portal, you leapt to your feet and steadied your head on your shoulders before you examined the people emerging. Except you only saw a human and a sheep, no ghost.

Tommy looked pale and on the verge of tears as he led Friend towards you. Before he spoke, he used his sleeve to wipe at his tears.

“Hey, Tommy! How did it- where’s Ghostbur?” The enderman hybrid stretched his usually slouched back to peer at the portal, keen eyes searching for any sign of movement.

“I think he’s dead… He’s dead!”

Tubbo tilted his head and looked up at the blond in confusion, “well, yeah. He’s a ghost. Of course he’s dead.” Ranboo nodded in agreement, “yeah, he can’t die again. That just isn’t possible.”

You said nothing (not like you could in the first place, your head wasn’t connected to your body), looking into Tommy’s eyes inquisitively. They were chock full of panic, grief, and fear, staring down at the lead in his clenched hands.

“No, no you don’t understand, it’s not that he’s dead… it’s that Wilbur’s back.”

“Hold on, the Wilbur that blew up L’Manberg? That Wilbur?” Ranboo peered down at him incredulously. “Yes! C’mon, he- we gotta get to L’Manberg.”

He spun around and led Friend towards L’Manberg, walking quickly with a purpose. You, Ranboo, and Tubbo followed. You hugged your head close to your chest, your eyes peeking over your arms. It was always something you’ve done whenever you were scared or worried about something. You heard stories about Wilbur from your nephew, if the stories of his insanity terrified you, you’d hate to see the man in person.

“I was about to kill Dream, and- and Ghostbur died. Dream revived Wilbur… Fuck!” Tommy walked faster, L’Manberg far off in the distance. With one hand, you grabbed the blond’s attention and finger spelled, ‘are you serious? He’s actually gone?’

“Yes! How many times do I have to explain this?! Ghostbur isn’t with us anymore and Wilbur’s back. Wilbur’s back and we’re absolutely fucked.” He turned on his heel and resumed his beeline towards the crater in the wall. No, he couldn’t be gone. This was just a cruel prank they were pulling on you, right?

Tubbo put a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small sympathetic smile. You leaned into his touch slightly and carried on, stepping into the makeshift staircase behind Tommy.

You moved your arms to cover your eyes as you stepped aside to make room for the other two teenagers. You heard a voice; it sounded exactly like Ghostbur’s voice, yet it sounded... off. You however remained hopeful and uncovered your eyes.

The man that stood there certainly wasn’t your boyfriend. Everything about him was just so wrong. The emotion in his eyes, his clothing, his smile, his stance, his hair, everything. This was a completely different person. This was Wilbur Soot.

“Hello again.” His eyes flicked around your group, his gaze lingering on you for longer than the rest. You noticed that he was staring at your neck, but that was okay. You were used to it; everybody did that. What you weren’t used to was the revulsion that flashed in his eyes. The eyes that once lovingly stared at you and reassured you that he’d love you even with your… condition were now filled with disgust.

That was what broke you, the tears that you tried to hold in came streaming out like a waterfall. Stinging pain hit you as the water worked its way through the cloth of your uniform onto your arms, leaving steam floating upwards towards the cave ceiling. You phased through Ranboo’s body and made a mad dash towards your sister’s house. You needed her, you could feel a panic attack brewing inside you. Usually you would hate to be a bother to your older sister and Ghostbur would always calm you down, but now he’s…

You pushed that thought aside and focused completely on getting to Puffy’s house in the distance. You phased through the door without a thought to knock, frantically beginning your search for Puffy.

You looked everywhere, but you couldn’t find her. Unable to cope any longer, you fell to your knees in the middle of the living room and hugged your head to your chest, your face being pushed against your uniform. Your shoulders shook with silent painful sobs, the only sound in the room being the sizzling of your skin.

Why couldn’t it have been you? It should be Ghostbur standing there in that cavern, not Wilbur. This was completely your fault, you should’ve gone instead of him. You should’ve volunteered quicker than he did, you shouldn’t have let him talk you into it with his soothing words. Now because of your complete and utter cowardice, he was stuck in the afterlife once again. You were never going to see him any time soon. Your other half was ripped away from you because of your inaction.

Between sobs, your lips repeatedly formed the same phrase: why couldn’t it have been me?

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester @laura--444 @the-cult-classic-bitch @youngstarfishdinosaur @nottheotheruser @ohworm-writes @localwolfanon @realitycanbeajerk @v10dw4lk3r @esylwen @seraphsema @boiled-onionrings

GN reader taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@twitchchatvroom @parkeepingparker

#wilbur soot x reader #ghostbur x reader #jschlatt x reader #mexican dream x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing #tw: death #tw: near death #tw: blood #tw: panic attack #tw: violence #tw: injury #tw: grief

711 notes · View notes

nojey · 3 years

Text

reminiscing (fans 2)

dreamwastaken x streamer!reader

genre: angst pronouns: they / them word count: 2.1k warning(s): failed relationship, cursing

fans (part 1)

synopsis: after taking 6 months off from social media, you finally explain to your fans why you took so long and why you needed it.

go live. *click*

you watched as your chat strolled in and viewer count go up. your computer screen illuminating your face in the dark room as your webcam caught the nervous look. you were shaking your leg up and down, a habit you caught whenever you tried to calm yourself down.

“hi everyone, it’s been a while since my last stream, huh?” you dryly chuckled. “it’s been about.. 6 months since i last streamed and at this point i think i’ve taken enough time to correctly word how i’m going to tell everyone why i decided to take a break from streaming.” you said looking down at the ground and fiddling with your fingers.

“uh, donation notifications will be off for this stream and chat will be on emotes only because i really just want to focus on getting this out. but if you plan on donating, thank you so much, really, it means the world to me.” you said finally looking at your webcam and smiling a bit. you read a chat and answer, “yes, i’m doing okay. i just have a big announcement i want to say after i tell you guys why i took a break.”

you took a deep breath in and started. “ over a year ago, almost 2, i met this guy through a friend and we started talking. it was very little at the beginning but as little as it was, his texts always made me smile.” you scratched the back of your neck. “and as time went on, we started talking more and more and he just became part of my daily routine. when i woke up i’d see a good morning text from him, we’d spend most of our day being on the phone with each other, i was even on facetime with him most of my streams but i had an airpod under my headset so you couldn’t really see it, i almost always fell asleep on facetime with him. i really fell for this guy.” you fondly smiled, looking at your desk, where your phone used to be propped up and you would see clays face just looking at you.

“then we started streaming together. ‘omg he’s a streamer too’ yeah, and a lot of you probably know who i’m talking about at this point but i still won’t disclose who it is. i uh, got a lot of messages from you guys telling me that i looked super happy that stream and i was. i was always happy when i talked to him. but along with those messages i also got a lot of hate, telling me to stay away from him. it didn’t really bother me because i always get hate when i stream with my guy friends; i was used to it.” you said, taking a sip from your water then wiping the side of your eye as it teared up.

“and today... i’ll be going on the dream smp! with the man himself, dream. dream, say hi now.” you introduced, you waited a few seconds but was only met with silence. you grabbed your phone and sent him a voice message, “clay! you’re on deafen! introduce yourself!” you screamed into your phone. dream then took himself off deafen and said. “hi (y/s/n)’s chat! i’m dream, i’ll be showing (y/n) around the smp today and we’re gonna get started on their house.” you smiled fondly when you heard him speak. “yeah! what dream said!”

so you both logged into the dream smp, said hi to sapnap, and dream gave you a tour. you then started building your house in a forest, quite far from everyone else, “i don’t want anyone bothering you or ruining your house when you’re not on.” he explained. you told dream you wanted to build a cottage so if anyone does end up stumbling upon it, it looks welcoming to them. so dream started building your house for you even though you insisted you do it together. “dream! let me help, this is supposed to be my house.” you dragged. “well we can both decorate inside and make it our house.” you started blushing. “i guess..” you mumbled. you then started adventuring out to look for flowers and some things to decorate the house with.

you started placing flowers down into flower pots when you noticed something. “dream there’s only one bedroom.” you mentioned. he slowly turned around to look at you and quickly turned back and placed two beds next to each other. “this is our room, dumbass.”

later that night you checked your twitter dms and saw many people telling you to stop talking to dream and that you weren’t good enough to even know him. you sighed and powered down your phone.

“i think a few weeks after that he asked me if i could fly out to him and we’d meet in person. i was so excited i immediately started packing and i met him. it was amazing! i got to meet the guy i’ve been in love with for the past few months. i think it may have been a year already. but yeah, i finally got to meet him and being in his arms was the best feeling in the world, i felt so safe being with him.”

“it was the day after that, when he asked me on a date and i, of course, said yes. like who would say no to the person they fell in love with... so we went on a date and at the end of it we were just sitting on top of the hood of the car, eating dinner, watching the sunset and talking about a future we wanted together. and it may seem like we were moving fast but i knew 7 months into talking to him that he felt the same way about me. no matter if either of us disclosed it. i could tell and i knew he knew the same about me. then i went home and everything was perfect, i wasn’t his girlfriend yet though because we wanted to wait a bit.”

“that’s when everything went downhill, i think” you looked up to try to stop the tears from going down your face, but they fell anyways so you just let it be.

“we started streaming more and more and i started getting more hate than i usually got, this time getting death threats, people threatening to leak my address if i didn’t stop being friends with him. it was crazy but i was willing to endure it all for him. who cares what people on the internet are going to say to me? i really didn’t because i was happy enough with him that, that happiness overcame whatever type of hate i was getting.” tears kept falling from your eyes but you didn’t bother to wipe it, knowing it would just keep happening.

“dude you’re so annoying! you definitely cheated!” you screamed as you died. through your headset you could hear clay wheezing. “there was no way i was cheating!” he said through his laughs. “ask my chat, they saw the whole thing.” you breathed out, not wanting to believe him till a dono was sent to you, “yeah, (y/n) you just suck at this game,” you gasped, your jaw hanging then you started pouting. it was clipped and one of your viewers sent it to dream. he suddenly started laughing harder and you asked him why he was laughing, with a pout still on your face. “even your chat knows i didn’t cheat!” you started laughing too, till you read a message in the chat saying, “ew, their laugh is ugly. i don’t know why dream likes them.” you stopped laughing but kept a fake smile on your face.

“then he called me and he told me that he didn’t think we should be dating anymore, or even be friends. and i think it was because he saw the hate i was getting and he didn’t like that. he told me a different reason as to why he didn’t think we should date anymore but i didn’t believe it, but i let him go. because i was not going to force him to be with me if he really did mean it. “ you said, sniffling after so you didn’t sound too congested as you spoke.

after you hung up, you curled into a ball and cried. you cried, and cried, and cried. the feeling in your chest hurting more than you could ever imagine. you just lost the guy you wanted to marry, the guy you had spent over a year going to because of your problems, the guys you saw having kids with, the guy that made everything worth it. he was the only person on your mind as the pain in your chest grew. you tweeted and powered your phone off straight after. you didn’t want anyone messaging you asking what was wrong, knowing your friends they would do that.

“so the reason i took a break from streaming was because of that. because i resented the people that sent me hate so much i couldn’t bring myself to stream. i didn’t resent them because they sent me hate. i resent them because the hate they sent me caused the guy i really wanted to be with to make me believe he didn’t love me like i love him.” now, you were sobbing, letting your cry’s out because you had been holding them in for too long.

it had been a few months and you were on snapchat, seeing that you had a memory a year ago today, you checked it. “i think i literally met my soulmate.” with a picture of you and clay in a discord call. your breath got caught in your throat and your breathing became labored. your eyes started stinging as the tears started falling. it’s happening again, all the pain from the day you stopped talking to him came back and once again, you were crying into your hands and you couldn’t stop.

“i had always known that becoming a streamer i would get hate, but i never thought that i would get enough hate to prevent a relationship i really wanted to work. now all i do is reminisce of a guy i wish could be mine”

“streaming has brought me so many opportunities and i am so grateful for everything you guys have done for me, and for me to be able to do something i love and make money from it is insane to me. you guys have given me everything i ever wanted in life up until that point and i am so grateful and appreciative of that. you guys gave me friendships that i will never lose and never forget. so many of you have told me that i’ve saved you and changed your lives but trust me when i say you guys have saved me and changed my life too. i hope i repaid you back by making you smile, being your comfort streamer, and being a support system for each of you. but i think this is my end of the road. i fucking love streaming, i love you guys. but every time i click that “go live” button or even try to, all i think about is him and that’s too painful for me right now. maybe in the future i’ll find my way back here but i can’t promise that.”

“thank you guys, so, so, so, so, much for every single opportunity given to me, for everything. i love you all. my dms are still open. and this was (y/s/n), signing off for possibly the last time. goodbye everyone.”

end stream. *click*

a tear rolling down his face and falling onto his keyboard as he watched you finally say goodbye to your stream. it all just felt like you were saying your last goodbye to him again.

for the last 6 months all clay could do was think about you and how he wished he just messaged you and told you he was sorry and didn’t mean what he said. that he misses you and he would quit streaming if that meant he could be with you. that all he wanted was to feel you in his arms again and just live out the future you two planned together.

but if you just said goodbye to your chat for your last stream because you couldn’t stand the thought of him whenever you tried to stream. how could you ever forgive him?

the thought of never speaking to you hit him once more and again, he cried, sobbed, screamed, threw things, and even then, he knew.. you would never be coming back to him, with every fiber in his being, wishing you would.

—————

taglist: @loxbbg @bozowrites @noahsfag @sparklykeylime @bi-narystars @axths @cheybaee @letsloveimagines @meatte @julesamen21 @classyunknownlover @bad268 @strawbrinkofdeath

1K notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

CQL-verse! The characters have the same age gaps between them as their actors and actresses! Wwx and Jyl are the same age, jc is 5 years younger than them. Lxc is 3 years younger than wwx&jyl and lwj is 3 years younger than him. Nmj is two years older than wwx&jyl and nhs is 8 years younger than him and the same age as lwj. (1/2)

Meng Yao is 2 years older than nhs and jzx is 2 years older than MY. I'm leaving the Wen Sibs out of this because otherwise WN would be the same age as wwx and WQ would be 4 years younger than him. But hey! If you want to go with that, go crazy! I was thinking more of Yunmeng Sibs focus, but I will be happy with anything! (2/2)

ao3

Untamed

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect to the point of death and war, but he had always had trouble hating sad and gentle Wen Ning.

Wen Ning was technically his peer – there were only two years between them in age – and therefore capable of the same sorts of responsibilities and duties towards righteousness as Nie Mingjue, meaning that he ought to hate him as much as all the rest. But at the same time, Wen Ning was only part of the main branch family indirectly, a ward of Wen Ruohan; he was constantly suppressed and even tormented by Wen Chao, the eldest son of that family. If anything, it seemed almost as if he’d been brought into the family just to act as the family’s scapegoat, the inferior copy that was so hapless that he made that self-indulgent hedonist Wen Chao appear somewhat competent in contrast.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t imagine treating any of his own cousins that way.

He and Wen Chao were often compared, both being about the same age, and their young brothers were of similar age as well, both of them only fourteen; this juxtaposition made sure that every single person in the cultivation world talk of them in the same breath. Nie Mingjue always came out the better in the comparison, and Wen Xu the same for his, which in the minds of most people balanced out, but which caused Wen Chao no end of rage. He knew he couldn’t take out his anger on the talented Wen Xu and so took out on poor Wen Ning instead.

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect.

He did not hate Wen Ning.

Wen Ning, who should not be here.

“Please,” Wen Ning said, nearly in tears, as he threw himself down to the floor in front of Nie Mingjue. He’d burst into the room in the inn Nie Mingjue was staying at, the guards that no sect leader could do without no matter what they wanted following close behind in alarm until Nie Mingjue had waved them off with a gesture; he’d been panting so hard that he’d only just now caught his breath. “Please help this useless older brother do one good thing with his life.”

Alarmed, Nie Mingjue reached out and caught Wen Ning by the shoulders, pulling him to stand and even forgetting himself enough to reach forward with a sleeve to dab away the tears staining the other man’s face.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling anxiety curdling in his gut. He’d spoken with Wen Ning before during the discussion conferences, both when he was younger and even, in a few stolen moments, after he became sect leader; he knew Wen Ning had a steady personality, if a weak one from all the bullying he endured, and that he was not given to unnecessary hysterics. If he could tolerate Wen Chao’s endless torment with a faint smile and a don’t worry sect leader Nie once you’re used to it it’s more funny than anything else, then what could make him act like this? “What is that you need help with? I do not understand.”

Wen Ning looked tired. He always had, his health had always been poor, but now it seemed worse than ever; there were circles under his eyes, and Nie Mingjue had no idea how he’d managed to get away from the Nightless City to come find him. The town he was currently in was close to the border the Qinghe Nie shared with Qishan Wen, but it was still an effort, especially for someone like Wen Ning. He might be a member of the Wen family by name, but his freedom was significantly curtailed, and it wasn’t only because he was sickly.

“My little sister is going to be attending the lectures at the Cloud Recesses,” Wen Ning said.

“The - Lan sect lectures?” Nie Mingjue repeated blankly. It was a stupid thing to say; of course it was the Lan sect’s lectures, who else would give lectures at the Cloud Recesses? And yet, at the same time – “The Wen sect hasn’t gone to them in generations.”

“Sect Leader Wen asked A-Qing to look for something,” Wen Ning said. “I don’t know what. He talks to her more than he talks to me, when she’s treating him with acupuncture and other such things – he only wants blood relations treating him now, so she’s passing along what she can do, the doctors all say she’s talented – he told her something, I think, but I don’t know what, he doesn’t talk to me…and she doesn’t talk to me, either.”

“She’s sixteen, they’re like that,” Nie Mingjue said, trying to offer comfort, but he didn’t like the sound of that – Wen Ruohan growing reliant on the medical skills of a teenager, talking with her as if she were an adult…it didn’t speak well to the Chief Cultivator’s state of mind. “So she’s going to go spy on them?”

“She is. And maybe more. There’s – there’s something back in the Nightless City, something Sect Leader Wen is refining in order to increase his power. Whatever it is, it’s powerful and evil.” Wen Ning looked paler than usual, somehow. “It was something that was kept in a cave near our village when we were younger, once. Sect Leader Wen took it away to study, and it made something go crazy, I got hurt, and my parents – anyway, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go near it without losing my senses, so I really don’t know anything about it. But I know that Sect Leader Wen only has a piece – and the Lan sect has another.”

Lan Xichen had never mentioned such a thing, but then again, he wasn’t really old enough that Nie Mingjue would expect him to know everything about his sect – he was after all a full five years younger than Nie Mingjue, three years younger than Wen Ning; he was still only seventeen, having only just graduated from his uncle’s classes the year before. He was only very technically sect leader, in the same way Nie Mingjue had only been technically sect leader after his father’s death, although unlike Lan Xichen Nie Mingjue had fought his way to step up to the task for real early on. He himself was only barely considered an adult at the age of twenty-two; it was no surprise that in the Lan sect, which had Lan Qiren to rely on, Lan Xichen might not know it all.

Or perhaps he knew, and simply didn’t say. Each sect was entitled to its secrets.

“What are you thinking?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“I’m thinking that my sister is constantly afraid for me, even though she’s younger than me,” Wen Ning said solemnly. “I’m thinking that she will break her own principles into pieces to protect me. I’m thinking that she’ll find whatever it is, or find a hint to it, and then Wen Chao will take his forces to burn the Cloud Recesses to the ground in search of it.”

Nie Mingjue could see that.

He didn’t want to, but he could.

“My brother is attending those lectures,” he said blankly. Nie Huaisang was there right now. He could be in danger – no, he would be in danger. Nie Huaisang wasn’t a good cultivator, and at fourteen, he was just a baby. Nie Mingjue had sent Meng Yao with him, nominally as his attendant, but in fact to get the benefit of the classes himself and also bully Nie Huaisang into actually learning something – he’d brought Meng Yao into the Nie sect after Jin Zixuan, full of guilt over how his father had treated a boy only two years his junior, had sent him a letter beseeching him for help following Meng Yao’s public and humiliating rejection from Jinlin Tower – but Meng Yao was only sixteen, of age with Wen Qing; what could he really do?

Moreover, sending Wen Qing and not Wen Xu, even though Wen Xu was the same age as Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji, indicated that Wen Ruohan didn’t want his more promising son to get involved in whatever it was that he was planning, or maybe in whatever consequences followed. If Wen Chao really were to try something violent, they couldn’t afford to have a weakness already there…

“I need to get A-Qing out of the Wen sect,” Wen Ning said, and Nie Mingjue turned to look at him in shock. “Permanently. I’ve begged her to go, but she won’t leave me, she won’t leave our family of the Dafan Wen, but she has to. Something bad is going to happen soon. I know it. I don’t mind trading my life for hers, but she has to live.”

“Is there any way you can go to the Cloud Recesses as well?” Nie Mingjue asked, his mind already racing. He’d long ago given up on helping Wen Ning because he knew the other man wouldn’t turn traitor against his family, being an upright and filial child, but if his family had reached such a depth of corruption as that, then it was only right to leave them behind. If Wen Ning was finally accepting that, maybe there was something he could do. “You’re sensitive to the – whatever it is. Right? Maybe Wen Qing can suggest bringing you around to help her find her way to it.”

“How would that help?”

“It gets you somewhere safe, while I can rescue Dafan Wen – without a threat to you or to them, your sister would have no reason to insist on staying,” Nie Mingjue said, though it wouldn’t be him, exactly, that did the rescue – he’d need a firm alibi lest Wen Ruohan use it as an excuse to start something with his Nie sect. He might have prepared for war as much as he could, but the Wen sect was still stronger; if war broke out, he needed to make sure that he had the moral high ground.

Luckily, Wei Wuxian, that walking calamity of a head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, had of late developed the habit of wandering over to visit various other sects, including Qinghe (and Nie Mingjue in specific), at his leisure, and no one ever would think to blame him for such a strange thing as a subsidiary sect of distant Wen sect cousins disappearing.

After all, Wei Wuxian had no reason to know or care about the Dafan Wen, and everyone knew he abjured politics completely, violently and repetitively, so as to make no mistake about anyone who might otherwise see him as competition for the Jiang sect’s true heir, Jiang Cheng. The five-year gap between their ages kept them from being compared – you couldn’t expect a child, and at fifteen Jiang Cheng was still very much a child, to keep up with an adult just turned twenty like Wei Wuxian – but there had always been whispers given everything with Cangse Sanren, and Wei Wuxian had had to work very hard to put a stop to them.

Wei Wuxian’s wandering habit had started back when he’d been trying to find Jiang Yanli a new fiancée to replace the engagement he’d broken by fighting with Jin Zixuan, however shameful it was for him to fight with a boy two years his junior. It was for that that he had come to Qinghe to meet Nie Mingjue, leading to them hitting it off as friends despite Nie Mingjue expressing that he had absolutely no interest in getting married to Jiang Yanli, or indeed to any nice young lady at all; then, in turn, Nie Mingjue had brought him to the Lan sect to meet Lan Xichen. They’d gotten along as well, although the most notable outcome of that visit had been little Lan Wangji developing a crush on his elder brother’s new friend while Wei Wuxian remained blissfully oblivious. His wanderings had continued even after Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan had found their way back to each other, affianced once again through their own choice rather than their parents’.

Said parents had not yet been informed of this new situation, as they were waiting for the right time to mention it. Or perhaps more accurately, the right situation to exploit with it…

Now, Nie Mingjue thought. Now was the time. It would work perfectly.

And not just as a distraction.

“Are you sure…?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said. “Whatever it is, Wen Ruohan must be kept from obtaining all of the pieces; he’s already too powerful, and more power will only make him more arrogant. I’ll speak with Lan Qiren. Once I take the Dafan Wen back to the Nie sect, your sister will be able to testify to whatever it is that she was asked to search for, which will give Lan Qiren the evidence he needs to get his sect’s approval for retaliatory measures. Moreover, using Wei Wuxian to help me will force Jiang Fengmian to support me as well; there’s no way he’d ever refuse to back him to the hilt.”

“The Jin sect –”

“Will join us,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking of Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan’s yet-to-be-announced engagement. Once Jin Guangshan realized that he would be pulled into the same boat as the rest of them whether he wanted to or not, any resistance he had would crumble like a structure made of sand being beaten down by the tide. “They won’t have a choice. Is there anything else I should know?”

“There’s a child,” Wen Ning said, biting his lips. “Around the same age as your brother or my sister, or maybe the Jiang sect heir, I don’t know, around that. He helps Sect Leader Wen with whatever he’s doing.”

“A child helps him?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t like the sound of that.

“I don’t know. Some secret his family knows, I think…his surname is Xue.”

Nie Mingjue frowned.

“I don’t know much about him,” Wen Ning added. “Only that he has some history with the Yueyang Chang clan. Bad history.”

“That’s a good start,” Nie Mingjue said. He realized that he hadn’t yet released Wen Ning’s shoulders, and gave them a small squeeze before doing so. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will do everything I can to help you.”

Wen Ning looked at him with admiration in his eyes, making Nie Mingjue feel a little hot under the collar.

“Thank you, Chifeng-zun,” he murmured, and Nie Mingjue shook his head.

“Call me by name,” he said, and tried to smile. “You’ll be here a lot in the future, if all goes well.”

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect, but he didn’t hate gentle and sad Wen Ning.

He didn’t hate him at all.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #wen ning #my fic #my fics #count your age #I know you said Yunmeng focus but this is what came out #sorry #full list of ages on the ao3 page

303 notes · View notes

helloalycia · 3 years

Text

lose you [one] // leigh shaw

summary: after Leigh ignores your existence for a few days, you decide to force her out of her room and spend the afternoon with you, but it ends up leading to something more

warning/s: mentions of grief and implied death

author's note: this was requested and I finally got around to watching Sorry For Your Loss (which is so good by the way! i'm so mad it got cancelled), so here is a little Leigh Shaw imagine! It's a three-parter so stay tuned :)

part two | part three | masterlist | wattpad

"Where is she?"

Jules, her sister, pointed up at the ceiling, referring to upstairs, as she finished chewing on a grape. "What did she do now?"

I refrained from rolling my eyes at the reminder that Leigh had been ignoring my calls and texts for the past few days.

"Nothing," I mumbled before leaving her in the kitchen to eat her fruit.

I'd been friends with Leigh long enough to invite myself into her house and let myself head upstairs. When I reached her room, I knocked on the door and tried to hide my impatience with a sigh.

"Jules, I'm not in the mood," her voice grumbled from the other side.

Ever since losing her husband a year ago, Leigh's personality had become more... erratic, if you will. Understanding her mood changes and temper tantrums was a skill in itself, but I was determined to stick by her if it meant she'd be okay. Like now, for example.

"It's not Jules," I called back. She didn't reply, so I said, "You better have clothes on, I'm coming in."

Without wasting a second, I opened the door and found Leigh laying on her bed, thankfully dressed, and looking up at the ceiling. Her room was slightly messy and the curtains were half open, like she'd been in the same position for the past few days. I wouldn't have put it past her.

When I entered, her eyes glanced my way before she continued to stare a hole into the ceiling. I breathed out, unsure what to say.

"Don't look at me like that," she said quietly.

"I wouldn't have to if you'd replied to any of my texts," I retorted, though my tone was anything but harsh.

"I've been busy," she mumbled.

My eyes raked the room once again. "Yeah, I can see that... it's two in the afternoon."

Suddenly, she sat up and narrowed her eyes at me. "Look, if I wanted a lecture, I'd have let Jules in here. If you've not got anything nice to say, you know where the door is."

Rolling my eyes, I ignored her flippant attitude and went to the set of chest drawers pushed against her wall. I rifled through them, earning complaints from behind me, before pulling out some clothes and throwing them at her.

"We're going out," I told her sternly, crossing my arms.

She removed the clothes from her face and gave me a disapproving look. "No, we're not."

"I'm not leaving unless you come with me, so..."

She could be a bitch when she wanted to be, but she knew I could be, too. Our stubbornness was our weakness, since neither of us could back down in a fight. Nowadays, it usually ended with me giving in because I pitied her, but not today. Today I was adamant on cheering her up.

"Fine," she said through a sigh of defeat. "Just get out already."

I smiled victoriously. "See you downstairs."

After waiting for Leigh to get ready and out of the pyjamas I was sure she'd lived in for three days straight, we got in my car and I began to drive.

"Where are we going?" she asked, glancing over at me with mild annoyance, like she'd rather be anywhere but here.

"Not sure yet," I admitted, ignoring the disbelief on her face.

"Then why did you make me come?!" she asked, her attention fully on me now.

I shrugged. "Thought you could use the break." Shoulders relaxing, I added, "I also thought we could spend some time together since we haven't in a while."

I didn't want to say it was because of the fact that she'd been avoiding me, or at least been making no effort to talk to me. I also didn't want to make her feel bad because of those facts, but she seemed to take it personally anyway, resorting to a good old-fashioned Leigh-specialty eye roll.

"I'm not sorry for grieving," she said knowingly, getting comfortable in her seat and looking out the window.

I gripped the steering wheel harder and tried not to let her words make a difference. She had a bad habit of twisting my words or making things seem worse than they were and I knew it was a coping mechanism of hers. She only tried to cope when things got too much, which only confirmed my reason for taking her out today.

"You don't have to be," was all I said, before focusing back on my driving.

—

Halfway through our drive to nowhere, I pulled the roof of the car down so we could feel the wind in our hair and the sun on our backs, since it was a nice day. I also put the radio on, hoping it would ease the tension on Leigh's end of the car.

Pop songs blared through the speakers, some that I knew and some that I didn't. Of course, the ones that I knew I immediately sang along to. Leigh definitely didn't like that, opting to roll her eyes and pretend I wasn't there. But eventually, I knew she wouldn't be able to resist and she began to hum along, making me smile.

On the road that led to nowhere, I noticed a public footpath leading into the forest and decided to take a pit stop, utilising the car park nearby. When Leigh noticed what I was doing, she straightened up and looked around with confusion.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyes falling to mine.

I tried not to laugh. "We, my friend, are going on a walk."

"You're kidding."

"I'm really not."

I felt her eyes on me as I parked up and turned the engine off. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I opened my car door and met her judgemental gaze, noticing she wasn’t making a move to leave.

"You coming?" I asked with a raised brow.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course," I said, not quite stepping out the car but hanging my feet out. "You can either come with me on a nice walk through the forest, or you can stay here and roast to death in the car because of the heat whilst you wait for me."

"Or I can steal your keys and drive home without you," she offered as a third option, smiling bitterly.

Grin on my lips, I hummed in agreement. "That's also an option, yes."

Letting out a sigh through gritted teeth, she wordlessly got out the car and I smiled with satisfaction, knowing she'd give in. Getting out the car, I stretched my arms before locking the doors and joining Leigh's side. She sulked like a child, but allowed me to lead her to the trail ahead.

It was a lovely day out, warm but with a slight breeze that cooled our skin as we walked. Sunlight peeked through the tall trees, reflecting off the greenery and filling me with a sense of awe as I appreciated mother nature up close and personal.

Glancing over at Leigh, I noticed how she fell into step with me but remained closed off. Hugging herself, she focused on the path ahead and stayed quiet, jaw clenched and lips pursed. Streams of light that shone through the trees shone onto her, spotlighting her and making her hair look golden, blinding but in the best way.

I'd never admit it aloud, but I always loved the way her green eyes sparkled in the light, and even when she turned to glare at me, I felt my heart rate speeding up at how beautiful she looked.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," she said dryly.

Not letting her mood get me down, I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo, making her smack my hand away. I laughed and, for her sake, pretended I didn't see the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"That's one for the books," I teased, putting my phone away.

"It's fine, I have plenty of you," she mumbled.

I smiled to myself but said nothing. We continued to walk through the woods, following the trail and myself remembering every turn we made so we could make it back the right way. There were a few other people out, but we passed them with a quick hello (from myself since Leigh was still sulking) and moved on.

Twenty minutes into our peaceful walk, I noticed a wooden footbridge up ahead, possibly built over a stream. Excited, I stopped and looked to Leigh who noticed I wasn't beside her and turned around to see what was up.

"Why d'you stop?" she asked, pulling her hair up into a ponytail impatiently.

I smiled eagerly. "I'll race you to the bridge."

"Y/N," she breathed out, raising her eyebrows. "We're not kids."

I walked forward slowly, smile fading into a frown. "Fine. Sorry for trying to liven things up."

She rolled her eyes and continued to walk beside me in silence. But my pace picked up, as did hers, and I exchanged glances with her, realising she was walking faster than usual. Before I knew it, we were breaking into a run, trying to reach the bridge before each other.

"Thought you didn't wanna race!" I said between heavy breaths.

"I don't!" she called back, her pace picking up as she managed to get ahead.

I sucked up a breath and pushed on, tailing her as she reached the bridge. When she got there, she began to cheer and point at me obnoxiously.

"Ha! I win!" she said with a grin, as I slowed down and bent over to catch my breath. "Sucks to be you."

Her laughter filled my ears as I straightened up, hands on my hips. She looked so happy, even if it was momentarily, and I watched her with adoration, not even caring that I'd lost. She was stunning when she was smiling and I could only hope she'd do it more as time went on.

"I let you win," I joked, waving my hand dismissively.

"Sure you did," she played along, leaning on the bridge's railing as she watched me with amusement.

"You literally exercise for a living," I told her with a shrug. "S'not fair."

"Whatever," she said with an eye roll, smile still dancing on her lips as she turned around to look over the bridge. A gasp escaped her lips as she said, "Wow."

I joined her side, holding the railing to see what had taken her breath away. Then I saw it. A stream ran beneath us and was framed by some beautiful flowers and tall, transcending trees whose branches curled outwards and were covered in green leaves. The sun's rays filtered down through the leaves and made the water look like it was sparkling, rippling with every rock it pushed past.

"Looks like something out of a children's book," I said with disbelief, smile of amazement on my lips.

Leigh hummed in agreement and I glanced at her, seeing a similar expression on her face. Glad she was in a better mood, I looked back to the picturesque view before us and leaned on the railing, merely appreciating the sight.

"This is nice," Leigh said quietly, after a moment.

I tilted my head to get a look at her. She was already looking my way, leaning on her arms and meeting my gaze.

"Thanks, I put it all together myself," I said playfully, making her nudge me with her elbow as I chuckled.

"I'm serious," she said, before looking ahead again. "It is."

Knowing that was her way of saying thank you without actually saying it, I nodded in agreement. "It is."

We admired the sight for a few more minutes before deciding to head back, taking our time as we followed the route I remembered. Leigh was a little less tense this time, seeming to relax into her surroundings a little more. She even had a smile on her face at times which was all I wanted.

"You hungry?" I asked when we reached the car park.

"I guess I could eat," she said with a shrug.

"Well, according to this sign," I said, pointing to a board beside the start of the footpath, "there's a café a little way down the road. Wanna go?"

She motioned for me to go first. "After you."

Green eyes shone bright with amusement as she looked to me with a suppressed smile. Losing my words, surprisingly startled by her gaze, I cleared my throat and took the lead, making her laugh.

I sometimes wondered if she knew the effect she had on me or if she just liked catching me off guard. Maybe it was both.

—

After having a late lunch, or early dinner depending on how you saw it, Leigh and I got back in my car and I began to drive us back to hers. It was quiet, just like our meal was and just like she'd been for most of the afternoon. I was fine with that, I guess, but I felt like she was holding something in.

Turning off the radio, I earned her attention.

"You should try screaming," I suggested casually.

"Excuse me?"

I felt her eyes boring into me with confusion as I got comfortable in my seat. Looking in the rear view mirror, I noticed there were no cars behind us or in front of us. The road was empty as I drove on the edge of one of the many beautiful cliff-sides in Los Angeles.

"Scream," I repeated to Leigh. "It'll feel good. Watch."

Wasting no time, I began to scream at the top of my lungs, being sure to stay focused on driving at the same time. My voice flew into the air as my car sped down the road, leaving me feeling liberated.

"Geez, a warning would be nice!" Leigh snapped, uncovering her ears when I was done.

I laughed. "I did say to scream." Giving her a sideways glance, I added, "Come on. Try it with me. On the count of three."

"This is stupid," she decided, leaning back into her seat and pushing her hair from her eyes as the wind blew it about.

"No, it's not," I said with certainty. "Three."

"Y/N."

"Two."

"Stop it."

"One."

"Y/N!"

I looked to her with a grin before screaming at the top of my lungs. When I didn't hear her join in, I stopped and pouted.

"You gonna leave me hanging?" I asked, looking between her and the road. "C'mon. Last chance."

"Y/N–"

"Three. Two. One."

This time, to my surprise, she joined in and we screamed together, our voices echoing into the hills around us. It was exciting, thrilling and freeing all at once. Once we were out of breath, we stopped and caught it back.

"Felt good, right?" I asked with a grin.

She began to laugh, quietly, slowly, then loudly and hysterically, making me join in. Though, when my laughter faded, I realised she was still laughing, and then I looked over to her and saw tears streaming down her cheeks. With concern, I reached over to comfort her, but stopped when I realised it was weird to do, even for a friend.

"Leigh, I'm sorry, I–"

"No, no, it's fine, I'm fine," she cut me off, wide smile still on her lips as she wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her jumper. "They're happy tears. Y/N. They're happy tears."

I furrowed my brows with confusion, eyes flickering between the road and Leigh. "Are you– are you sure? Because it's okay if–"

"I'm okay," she promised, resting a hand on my arm. "I am. And the screaming helped. You were right."

I almost made a joke about how I'm always right, but my concern for her, despite the smile she wore, was still present. Teary eyes watched me with reassurance and she squeezed my arm gently before getting comfortable in her seat.

"Okay, if you're sure," I said, still uncertain.

We continued driving when I noticed the sun setting and decided to stop the car off to the side of the road. The hills were the perfect place to watch the sunset since it had a perfect view of the city whilst leaving enough space to see the sky in all its glory.

"Now why are we stopping?" she asked, though her voice didn't carry the same venom it did earlier.

"Isn't it obvious?" I asked rhetorically, getting out the car and motioning to the view before us. "We're gonna watch the sun set!"

I thought she'd put up a fight or complain like she had with everything I'd been recommending today, but to my ease, she simply got out the car and joined me. The two of us leaned against the car door as we watched the sun dipping into the horizon, casting an orange-pink hue across the skyline and the few clouds in the sky. It always reminded me of a watercolour painting, like someone had dipped their paintbrush in water and dragged it across the sky.

"Thank you for today," Leigh said, pulling me from my admiration. "I actually had a really nice time. As in, the part I spent with you and not the part where I moped around in bed."

I gave her a half smile. "Anytime, Leigh."

She winced, shaking her head in disagreement. "No, I mean it, Y/N. For everything, not just this." She paused, and I tried to ignore the way the last of the sun's rays made her skin glow and eyes shine brighter than anything I'd ever seen. "You've been here for me, even a year later when other people would have left."

"That's what friends are for," I reminded her, and her eyes flickered to mine, holding a million questions that I couldn't decipher.

"I'm not the best company," she admitted.

"You're not that bad," I said dismissively.

"I wouldn't want to be around me," she continued.

"Who likes to be left alone with themselves anyway?" I said jokingly, making her sigh discontentedly. Smile fading, I lost my humour for the moment. "You're not as bad as you think. And even if you were, I'd still stick around."

She locked her jaw, looking down to her shoes silently. I crossed my arms and looked back to the sun, it lowering into the horizon further and further as each second passed.

"I didn't mean to force today onto you," I said hesitantly. "I just– you didn't reply to any of my messages and I was worried."

She scratched the back of her head awkwardly. "I haven't really checked my phone."

"I figured." Finger playing with my shirt mindlessly, I said, "I got a promotion at work. That's–" I cleared my throat. "That was why I called you the first time."

She looked up, eyes wide with apology. "Oh my God. Y/N, I'm so sorry! That's amazing! I should have–"

"It's okay," I reassured her with a small smile, dropping my arms to my side. "I just wanted to tell you because, well... I just wanted to tell you."

I wanted to tell her because that's what we did. We told each other everything. She was the first person that came to mind when anything good happened in my life. Of course, with everything going on, it was hard to tell her the good stuff when she was going through so much.

"I'm so proud of you," she said softly, and I looked her way when she grabbed my hand. "You worked really hard for this promotion and I knew you'd get it."

A smile crept onto my lips at her words. "Thank you, Leigh. You know that means a lot."

She nodded, mirroring my expression, before squeezing my hand gently. I wanted to look away after a few seconds, but she was still holding my gaze, eyes piercing mine as if conflicted. I suddenly became hyper-aware of her hand in mine, fingers gently tugging mine subconsciously, and the way her shoulder brushed against mine, the contact so natural I almost didn't realise it was there.

When I finally decided to break our staring contest, deciding I'd never know what was going on in her head, she took me by surprise and pulled me forward before kissing me. Her lips pressed to mine quickly, hand letting go and resting on the back of my neck dominantly.

It happened so quickly, my mind working overtime as it tried to decipher Leigh's soft lips against mine, the shiver that ran down my spine from her hand on my neck, the tenderness of her cheek as it came into contact with my nose. I didn't even get chance to react, to kiss her back like I wanted, as she pulled away in an instant.

Seemingly startled by her own actions, she let go of my neck and took a step back. I already missed the contact, my lips feeling cold as she pulled away. I, myself, was taken aback, still frozen with shock at the fact that she'd just kissed me.

"Th– that was a friendly kiss, obviously," she stuttered out, eyes avoiding mine.

I licked my lips awkwardly. "Yeah, obviously..."

"To say thanks," she added unconvincingly. "Y'know?"

"Mhm."

Neither of us looked up as we stood apart trying to understand what happened. Why did she do that? Did she actually want to? Was she caught up in the moment or was she just seeking comfort? I wasn't sure. But I knew I wished I had reacted quicker than I had.

"We should go home," she mumbled.

I nodded in agreement. "Right. Yeah. Home."

The two of us got back into my car, neither of us saying anything as I drove her back to her place. The radio played quietly in the background, filling the uncomfortable silence that formed between us, and I hated that a good day had ended on a bad note.

Pulling up outside her house, I chewed on the inside of my mouth with discomfort. She cleared her throat and still didn't look my way as she spoke.

"Thanks again for today," she said, before opening the door. "I'll, er, see you whenever."

I nodded, eyes focused on the steering wheel. "See you. I, erm–" I wanted to say something about the kiss, but she clearly didn't and I didn't want to piss her off. So, I said, "Tell Jules and your mum I said hi."

"Will do..."

With that, she got out the car and headed to her front door, leaving me sat there for a moment as I tried to comprehend the situation I was now in.

Why did Leigh have to be so confusing?

#leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw imagine #leigh shaw x you #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss imagine #sorry for your loss #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen x reader

406 notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 3 years

Text

Fine Line (Harry Styles x Reader)

WARNINGS: darkish themes, slight dubious consent, drug use, this is the tamest thing I’ve ever written

! PLEASE DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ divider by @lootbox

summary: your friendship with Harry has teetered on the edge of something more for years, the lines blurring until they were hardly visible. Harry has grown tired of this game

You could feel his eyes on you.

You could always feel them on you, the heat of his gaze so suffocating in a way that was hard to ignore. You didn’t even have to turn around to see the way his pink lips were pressed together, jaw clenching ever so slightly as the green of his eyes darkened just a tad. You’d witnessed it enough times to picture it as clear as day in your mind. A shudder passed through you, and the handsome blond before you noticed.

He was some lanky fratboy type, a bit too into himself, but a nice distraction nonetheless. The rowdy bar was filled with a seedy crowd of prospects, the pickings slim, and the man before you seemed like the best route to go. You hadn’t even wanted to come out, but Harry had given you some half-assed tale, voice gruff on the other end of the phone, as to why you should when Sarah had suggested the idea. His drummer loved a night out on the town.

It wasn’t shocking to find the brown-haired boy occupied with a fiery-haired model type whose smile seemed a tad bit wide. You had scanned the crowd for any other members of his backup band, but upon failing to find a familiar face, you’d reluctantly made your way to the bar. That was how you’d run into Tyler, the fair-haired man’s eyes lighting up the minute he noticed you. You took a sip out of the drink he’d bought you.

“Cold?” he wondered, and you started to shake your head, but decided against it.

How could you explain to him that your shivers had nothing to do with the temperature but instead the paralyzing gaze of your friend?

“A little,” you replied with a sheepish smile.

Ever the gentleman, or simply a guy who knew how to play the game to get what he wanted, he peeled his own jacket off. You took in the way his shirt clung to him, and as you raised your brows at his exposed arms, you thought to yourself that he wasn’t as lanky as you believed. Maybe the night would prove to be more fruitful than you thought. He’d only just moved to throw it around you when he paused, and even before his dark eyes fell onto something behind you, you knew what had made him stop. That suffocating heat clung to your back, draping over you like a blanket, much like the arm that found its way over your shoulder.

“I didn’t see you come in.”

His chest rumbled with the low timber of his voice as he pulled you against him, his hand coming around to brush his fingers along your exposed collarbone. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, but couldn’t hold back your grimace as the man before you flickered his gaze between you and the brunette at your back. His face fell, and even though you’d still been undecided on whether or not you were going to go home with him, you still mourned the loss of the possibility.

“Oh...uh-.”

“Oh, hey man. Harry,” your friend introduced himself, and you almost sneered at the way he pretended to only just notice the person you’d been talking to.

He stuck his hand out, but Tyler only responded with a forced smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he tersely said before his gaze fell onto you. “...you too. It was nice talking to you.”

The disappointment in both his eyes and voice was almost enough to make you tell him that the guy behind you wasn’t a boyfriend. Far from it even, but Harry’s deep chuckle stopped you from calling the man back, and you turned to face him with a frown.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

You downed the rest of your drink before walking past him, and Harry kept up with your pace, hand coming up to rest on the back of your neck as his stride matched yours.

“...and what have I done?”

“You know what you did,” you complained with a scoff.

“You’ll thank me later, love. That guy looked much too tame for you.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice, and you shook your head.

“I’m going home. I shouldn’t have come out anyway,” you grumbled, and surprise filled you when Harry followed you to the door.

“I guess I’ll be joining you then. Not much worth giving my attention to in there…”

You glanced up at him just as the door of the bar shut behind you, cutting off the noise of customers and drunkards alike.

“The redhead looked interesting enough,” you commented.

He didn’t respond right away, and when you glanced at him again, his eyes were on you.

“Paying much attention to us, were you?”

You shoved him away from you, and his laugh reached your ears.

“Hardly. You were the one who begged me to come out remember? The least you could do is greet me at the door.”

You yelped when Harry wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him.

“Missed me?”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, and you ignored the way his gaze zeroed in on you, like he was trying to devour you and figure you out all at the same time.

“...and if I said yes?”

He ran his eyes over your face, the green of them a tad brighter from the glow of the moon, a cool breeze ruffling his dark curls.

“Then I’d have to remind you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Unable to hold his gaze, something you’re rarely able to do, you glanced away. Your eyes found the sidewalk as Harry continued his trek, pulling you into his side. The warmth of him seeped through your dress and clung to your skin, like every part of him seemed to do. Your friendship with the former teen band member turned rockstar was very...strange.

You’d met years ago, only months before the release of his first album. You’d been the friend of a friend and had met at some party hosted by someone you couldn’t even name now. You were a different person then. Legs wobbly and brain fuzzy from the many drinks you’d downed, you’d mistaken Harry for your boyfriend.

The singer had had no desire to correct you as you fisted your hands in his hair, tongue halfway down his throat as he basked in the taste of some fruity drink on it. The lighting at the party had been dim, and you’d only realized your mistake when you were seconds away from shoving your hand down his pants in some bedroom. The empty boudoir had been bathed in light, and you still remembered the way he’d laughed when realization hit you. You were embarrassed as you stumbled into the hallway and downstairs, in search of your boyfriend.

That particular relationship ended up not lasting another week, and the next time you met Harry, it had been a much more formal setting. You’d officially been introduced and could hardly meet Harry’s eye as he shook your hand, a teasing smile on his lips. Despite the interesting start to your friendship, it was one that grew to stand the testament of time. Harry meant the world to you, and you were the first person he’d call when he had too much to drink and needed a place to crash. Your friendship was great…

...if you ignored the tension.

A heavy air had descended over your friendship forever ago, perhaps from the first night you’d met, and it had never seemed to go away. You could never pinpoint what it was or where it stemmed from, but it was there in the way Harry’s fingers tapped along your thigh while he drove. Or the way he’d wrap his arm around your neck when you’d be standing with your friends, nose brushing over your hair every once in a while. Or the way he’d find his way into your bed during the early hours of the morning when he stayed over, burying his face into your neck, sleep claiming him once again.

For so long, your relationship teetered on that line between friends and something more. You’d thought that all friendships were different and this was just how yours was, but eventually you had to admit it to yourself that the lines were blurred. They always had been, and you wondered to yourself how you’d ever begin to unblur them. That was what you wanted right?

“You mind if I crash at yours t’night? Your pullout is more comfortable than my bed.”

Harry’s voice pulled you from your trance, and you gave him a shaky nod. With a crooked smile, he pulled you closer, burying his nose into your hair as he led you to your apartment. The rest of the walk was quiet, and the silence felt heavy for some reason as you finally walked up the stairs. You guessed that Harry had way more to drink than you did because he wasted no time before heading to take a shower, clearly desperate to get what you guessed was some much needed sleep.

He’d made a habit of leaving clothes over at your place, so finding something to place on the bathroom counter for him was no hard task. The low timbre that was his voice could be heard as he hummed a few notes, and you busied yourself with warming up some leftovers, determined to get the taste of alcohol out of your mouth. You were done eating by the time he came out, and you wondered to yourself why this always happened.

If things between the two of you were tense and bordering the line of something more around your friends, then it was something else entirely when you two were alone. Harry liked to study you, emerald eyes focused on you any chance they got as he gave you his undivided attention. It made you feel like every twitch of your jaw, every frown, every grimace was accounted for. Nothing concerning you got past him.

Harry watched you like a lover.

“There’s plenty more in there,” you told him as he made his way into the kitchen.

“You shouldn’t eat so late,” he chided, and as you glanced at the ‘3:00’ on the microwave, you supposed that he was right.

You shrugged before standing, moving to put your dishes in the sink. You could feel him behind you, and you ignored the way goosebumps broke out over your skin. You weren’t surprised when his arms came around you, the appendages pulling you back into his chest. You glanced down at the ink that covered his arms and swallowed.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

Confusion filled you at his question, but you answered nonetheless.

“No. Why?”

You tilted your head to look at him, eyes widening a bit as you realized your lips were a hair’s width away from each other.

“Niall’s in town. He’s throwing a little get together and wants you to come…”

Something in his eyes gave you pause, and you got the feeling that he didn’t want you to go. Was it because you had a habit of letting go at any party you went to? Or was it because you and Niall got along so well? Almost as well as you and Harry. You resisted the urge to sigh at yourself, telling yourself that you were overthinking it. Maybe Harry didn’t want to go and was looking for an excuse not to.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t seen the blond singer in over a year and missed him too much.

“Sure! Just let me know what time…”

Harry swept his gaze over you, so quickly you thought you’d imagined it, before sending you a tight smile.

“Great.”

He left you, and as you turned back to your dishes and Harry made quick work of pulling out the couch, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t think it was so great.

“I miss the blonde.”

That was the first thing you’d said to Niall, and he only laughed before pulling you into a tight hug. He hadn’t been around for nearly a year, but it did nothing to deter people from showing up. You could hardly move through the large apartment without brushing shoulders with someone. Harry had long left you to get something to drink, but you surmised that the brunette got distracted with either a familiar face or a pretty one. Maybe both.

By now you were way more relaxed than you were when you arrived, alcohol coursing through your system as you chatted with Mitch and Charlotte. The guitarist and piano player were catching you up on what you and Harry had missed last night after you left the bar. Something about cheating boyfriends and a fight. You were mid laugh when you glanced over and made eye contact with someone you thought you’d never see again.

An old flame. Someone whose name you didn’t even want to speak let alone think. You two had never been official or anything, keeping things casual, but the eventual fall out had been messy and certainly wasn’t something you wanted to revisit. His jet black hair looked as neat as ever, bright eyes wide from some fashion drug, no doubt, and you suddenly had the urge to hide yourself away.

“I’ll be right back. Need to use the bathroom,” you told the pair before you.

You excused yourself before they had a chance to reply, making your way down the extensive hallway before depositing yourself in the very last room. You didn’t even know that him and Niall were friends, but you couldn’t blame the Irish singer for his actions. Your fling with the man in there had been lowkey, kept under wraps, so it’s not like Niall would’ve known.

Harry did though, and luckily for you, he was the one that intruded on your solitude.

“There you are,” he drawled, closing the door behind him. “I saw Andy come in...figured I’d find you hiding somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes with a shrug.

“I’m a coward. What else is new?”

You started to stand, but paused when Harry joined you on the bed, reaching into his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” he started, pulling out the blunt and a lighter. “I had planned to welcome Niall back properly, but I think you need it more than him.”

You couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled in your throat, no attempt to deny his statement. You accepted as he passed it to you, unable to remember the last time you’d gotten high. You didn’t know how many minutes passed like that, the both of you sitting next to each other in silence, but eventually, like always, you felt Harry’s gaze on you. It was warm and pressing, and when you looked up at him, he didn’t bother to look away.

He was never ashamed of getting caught.

“Why do you do that?” you suddenly asked him.

“Do what?” he wondered.

The smirk on his pink lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes told you that he knew exactly what you were talking about, and you told him as such. His smirk simply grew, and when you reached for the blunt, he held it out of reach. You didn’t know what game he was playing at, but he brought it up to his lips instead, and your eyes widened with realization as he neared you. You knew what Harry was going to do, and while you were unsure if you wanted him to, you didn’t make any moves to stop him. You were paralyzed.

The last time you kissed Harry, you could barely remember what it felt like...what he’d felt like. Not this time. His lips met yours, the feel of them soft and tasting faintly of alcohol. For a moment, you forgot that he wasn’t just kissing you, and your eyes fell closed as you basked in the feel of him. Parting your lips, you inhaled the smoke that escaped his own, and your lashes fluttered at the feel. Harry held himself there for a moment, letting you breathe it all in before eventually pulling away.

Your heart was pounding.

There was a grin on his face when his eyes met yours again, and you watched in awe as he stood up, holding out his hand. As you took it, allowing him to pull you to your feet, you wondered to yourself how he did it. How could he be so casual while you were still reeling, feeling like you’d inhaled not only the smoke, but him as well? How could he take your friendship in his hands and dance along the line so well? Getting so close, but never fully crossing it.

It amazed you and terrified you in ways that left your head spinning.

The rest of the party went by without incident, and you and Andy avoided each other like the plague. Or perhaps, he could have been avoiding you. Harry’s constant presence might have contributed to that. Even now, as you relaxed in the backseat with Harry while Niall gave you a ride back to your place, you could recall the feather light touches of Harry’s fingers on your arm, your shoulder, your neck and even your back.

When you finally made it to your apartment, you both waved Niall goodbye, telling him you’d see him tomorrow. Harry, having way more to drink than you did, was a bit unsteady on his feet, but was far from wasted. However, you wondered how true that really was when your back met the wall the minute the door was closed. Harry was closer than he ever was, hands pressed into the wall at your sides, nose brushing over yours.

Too shocked by the position you found yourself in, you merely stared at the brunette. Your lips parted, but no words came out, and his green gaze was drawn to the action. Reminding yourself that you needed to breathe, you did so, heart skipping a beat when your chest brushed against his with the action. There was that look again, like he was trying to devour you and figure you out all at once, and you brushed your tongue over your bottom lip.

“Harry, I think that you’re…”

Your words died on your tongue when Harry’s lips met yours for the second time that night. This wasn’t like your first kiss all those years ago where you were drunk and thought he was your boyfriend. It wasn’t even like the one earlier that only served a purpose to get you a little high. This was a real kiss, one done with the intention of creating butterflies in your stomach and pulling moans from your throat. You didn’t know why Harry was kissing you, and while this uncharted territory scared you and made you want to shrink in on yourself, you couldn’t find the strength to voice your fears.

Harry’s hands were on your neck, fingers grazing the hair at the nape as he tilted your head whichever way he liked. His lips completely covered yours, leading in a way you’d never experienced before. You’d kissed a lot of guys, some of them bad, some of them great, but none like Harry. Every brush of his fingers had you trembling, and a low whine had climbed out of your throat just as your phone rang.

Startled by the sound, you both jumped apart, and you pressed your hand to your mouth as you stared at him with wide eyes. You were positive that your apprehension and confusion was clear as day in your eyes, but Harry’s heated gaze reflected nothing of the sort. You swallowed at the way they darkened, the hunger in them as they narrowed, almost daring you to answer the call. Against your better judgement, you did just that, and hurriedly brushed past him as your mother started talking on the other end.

You had locked your door that night, and if Harry had tried to give into his usual habit of sleeping in your bed in the early hours of the morning, you were none the wiser. He had been gone when you woke up, and you didn’t even bother to swallow your sigh of relief. You hadn’t been ready to face him, ready to confront the shift in your relationship, and even an entire week later, that hadn’t changed. You’d always been a coward, but now there was no denying it.

You were avoiding Harry.

Most of his texts were only replied to with one or two word answers, and any talk of meeting up was deterred with some half assed excuse you’d come up with. You didn’t know how to navigate this new territory you found yourself in. You didn’t even know if you liked Harry in that way. Of course, someone would be a fool not to, but you’d never been the smartest of the bunch. Your apprehension was because of more than just him being an international heartthrob though.

Harry always behaved in a way that blurred the lines of your friendship. There was a time when you accepted that it was just who he was, but you were forced to rethink that when you noticed that he didn’t behave that way with anyone else. There were a few moments over the years where you wondered if he was just biding his time, teasing you with his intentions, dangling the inevitable in your face time and time again.

It was clear that he’d gotten tired of teasing.

Unfortunately, with Niall in town, you couldn’t avoid the man forever. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t refuse Niall when he’d asked you to come out on one of his last nights. Even though you knew Harry would be there. It was how you found yourself stepping inside of the dark club with a grimace.

Neon lighting lit up the establishment, and you could hardly hear yourself think with how loud the music was. With the daunting crowd before you, it was a miracle that Niall had even spotted you, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards whatever table they’d claimed for the night. He was there. Even with your eyes fixated on your feet, you could feel that suffocating stare that never failed to make your stomach turn.

Only you could never figure out if it was in a good way or bad one.

You slid in across from him, and you finally lifted your eyes to meet his green ones. As usual, he was shameless in his perusal, dark curls resting messily on his head in a way that only he could pull off. He was sipping on a drink he’d bought, head tilted ever so slightly at you as he smirked behind the glass. Unable to hold firm under his scrutiny and judgement, you excused yourself under the guise of getting a drink.

You had to lean against the counter as you made it to the bar, taking a few deep breaths. You thought to yourself that this night was going to be harder than you thought, and with that, you ordered the strongest drink you could think of. The bartender had just walked away when you were startled by the sight of familiar hands pressing into the bar on either side of you. You felt his chest at your back a moment later, and you both sharply inhaled at the same time.

“Why ‘ave you been avoiding me?”

You weren’t surprised that he got straight to the point, so you decided to follow his lead.

“You kissed me,” was your simple response.

He didn’t respond right away, and if possible, you felt him step closer, chest flush against your back now. You felt him lean in, and your skin pricked when his lips grazed your ear.

“Did you not want me to?” he lowly asked.

The question seemed rhetorical in nature, but you answered anyway.

“Yes...no… I don’t know,” you sighed.

Against your better judgement, you turned around in the cage he’d made of himself, and your eyes met his as your back pressed into the bar.

“We’re friends, Harry,” you told him.

His eyes glinted with something that struck fear into you, the corner of his pink lips curving upwards into a mocking smirk.

“We’ve never been friends...and you know it.”

You didn’t respond to his words, to what you had long been denying, and instead you looked to the ground.

“I like what we have,” you murmured. “I don’t know if I want you in that way.”

“Then let me help you find out,” he whispered.

Those words traveled straight to your stomach, and you ignored the heat that flared within you. You turned to grab your drink that the bartender brought, and Harry slowly straightened, releasing you. Without meeting his eyes again, you rushed past him to join your friends. The tense air between you two remained for the rest of the night. Despite how much you wanted to just leave, you didn’t want to disappoint Niall, and so you endured it.

You put up with Harry’s heated and predatory gaze. You endured that mocking look in his eyes, equally scornful smirk on his lips every time your stare met his. Even when you found yourself on the dance floor, his fingers dancing along whatever sliver of skin you’d decided to show. However, if you were being honest, that wasn’t something you forced yourself to endure. The trail of fire that his fingers left in their wake proved that.

Unsurprisingly, you had your limit, and the time came where you couldn’t take anymore.

“I’ll see you soon, alright?” you told Niall, pulling him into a hug.

“You’re no fun anymore. It’s not even 12! I remember when you didn’t even slow down til 4,” he chuckled.

“It’s just one of those days,” you sighed.

He let you go, and you waved everyone goodbye. The only one who didn’t return it was Harry, and you got the feeling that he had no intentions of wishing you a good night.

Not yet.

You took a much needed shower when you got home, and the hot water did the trick of washing your stress away. Even in the confines of your bathroom, you could still feel Harry’s hungry gaze, and you wondered to yourself if this was it. If this was the point of no return for your friendship. Body still buzzing with the after effects of Harry’s presence, you decided to clean up the apartment a bit. When that was done, you cooked a snack, no mind given to how late it was.

It was a little under 2 hours later, nearing 2 in the morning, when there was a knock on your door. Despite the fact that you knew who it was, a sinking feeling in your gut that told you all you needed to know, you still asked.

“It’s Harry,” he drawled, and you noted that he didn’t sound drunk.

You didn’t know if that relieved you or not.

With a sigh, you stood in front of the door for what felt like the longest time. You debated with yourself on whether or not to let him in. Despite the weird limbo the two of you seemed to be in, he was still your friend, and yet… Somehow...you knew… You knew that if you let him in, your friendship would change forever. You didn’t know how you knew, but you just knew. Still, eventually you sighed and reached for the door, telling yourself that such a prediction was not a guarantee.

Harry’s eyes were clouded with something you couldn’t -or didn’t want to- name as you opened the door. He’d taken off his jacket, and you wondered how the cold didn’t affect his bare arms. Neither one of you said anything as he strode inside, and you quickly turned to face him as you closed the door. You didn’t like the idea of turning your back to him. You pressed yourself to the door as he merely stared at you, a dark curl hanging into his face, and you exhaled.

“I’ll leave some clothes in the bathroom,” you quietly told him as you stepped by.

He didn’t follow, and you were grateful, quickly finding him something to sleep in. He was nearing the bathroom just as you left it, and you folded your arms over your chest as he eyed you.

“You know how to get the couch sorted. See you in the morning?”

His uncharacteristic silence unnerved you, and you fought the urge to squirm under his piercing gaze. He ran his eyes over you, slowly, and you swallowed. Harry’s gaze snapped to the action, eyes tracing your throat before lingering on your lips. Eventually, his eyes met yours again, lips pulling into a humorless crooked smile as he brushed past you, shoulder grazing yours.

“Of course.”

You blinked as the door shut behind you before forcing your feet to move. You shut your bedroom door behind you just as the sound of running water could be heard, and you hadn’t even realized that your fingers were trembling. You turned towards your door, hand hovering over the knob as you remembered what had transpired the last time that he was here. Your heart pounded beneath your chest, and confusion filled you as you mulled over what you may or may not want. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you back away, leaving the door unlocked, and you slipped into bed.

You didn’t know what time it was when you heard the soft click of your door snapping shut. It was hardly loud by any means, but it woke you nonetheless. Blinking a few times, you stared into the darkness before the overwhelming sense of being watched gripped you. Pushing yourself up with your elbows, you took in Harry’s form as he stood at the end of your bed.

“Mind if I crawl in?”

Weeks ago, you would have said yes without hesitation, but now you didn’t know if you minded or not. Even in the dark, you couldn’t escape that paralyzing gaze, and for some reason, you got the sense that Harry wouldn’t leave even if you did mind. At least not right away...not without making you squirm a bit first.

You pulled the covers back, a silent agreement, but you were stunned when Harry merely gripped them and pulled them completely off of the bed and out of your hands. Your eyes widened as he pressed a knee into the mattress, crawling over you, wasting no time before his lips met yours in a heated kiss. You had no time to process what was happening, Harry immediately finding comfort in between your parted legs.

If you thought the kiss before was real, then it was nothing compared to the way he kissed you now. The one before was almost immature in nature, timid in comparison, and it wasn’t hard to pinpoint why. Harry kissed you like a man starved, finally getting what he’d been craving, what he’d gone so long without.

You could hardly move as he had you pinned beneath him, fingers dancing up your legs, taking your t-shirt with them as they went. You finally felt like you could breathe when he dragged his lips down to your jaw, pressing kisses there before shifting his attention to your neck instead. It was insane. With how many guys you’d slept with, none of them came close to making you feel how Harry did. And he was barely laying a finger on you.

You felt him pull at your underwear, a gasp escaping you when he dragged them down your legs. Was this really happening? Was this something you wanted to happen? If you wanted, there was still time to salvage this friendship, to stop things before they truly went too far. Despite your own conflicted feelings on the matter, you opened your mouth to do just that, but Harry’s lips swallowed your words, long fingers finding their way inside of you.

You gasped into his mouth, only just now feeling his rings press into your skin, shudders wracking your frame as he played with you. In and out. That was all you could comprehend, how he moved them within you, curling them with every thrust and every flick of his wrist. Harry groaned as he tasted the inside of your mouth, pulling away to sit up on his knees. You were a squirming mess beneath him, and he pressed his other hand onto your stomach to hold you down when your back lifted from the bed.

Your head was thrown back, mouth parted and eyes focused on your ceiling. Every attempt to swallow down a moan was unsuccessful, and it wasn’t long before his own name started to tumble from your lips. You wrapped one hand around his wrist, nails pressing into his skin as he pushed his fingers into you, the sound of your arousal filling the room. Your other hand wrapped around his arm, holding on as your climax creeped up on you, crescendoing until you were shaking beneath him, feet pressing into the bed while Harry watched you come undone.

You still shook as he withdrew from you, and you watched as he wrapped his lips around his fingers, a low moan escaping at the taste of you. His lashes fluttered closed, like he was savoring it, and when he opened his eyes again, they were the most serious you’d ever seen them. The seconds that followed were a blur.

Your shirt was easily ripped off of you, and Harry’s own clothes soon followed, landing on the floor just as he settled over you again. He took your face into his hands, drinking you in with a look that scared you. It wasn’t just triumph, but it was satisfaction and yearning and possessiveness all rolled into one. It was so similar to how he always looked at you, but it was also so different. You thought that you had seen through him, could read him so well, but this was a rude awakening.

Harry had hid much more than you could have ever imagined.

He kissed you again, pressing his lips against yours so fiercely, you were sure they’d bruise. The cool metal of his rings pressed into your jaw, and he breathed into your lips, his lower half shifting, lifting, just before he flipped you over. A gasp escaped you when the room spun, and you blinked as you adjusted to this new position on your stomach. Harry’s fingers fisted into your hair, lips grazing your neck, and that was all the warning you got.

A choked moan escaped you when he thrust into you, your warm walls welcoming him like he belonged there. Perhaps he did, and perhaps Harry had known that all along. He moaned into your neck, the sound deep and shaky, the vibrations traveling through your heated frame. He held himself there for the longest time, just delighting in the feel of you wrapped around him. You did the same, eyes falling closed at your fullness, at how Harry seemed to stretch you so good.

One hand was still in your hair, the other pressing into your waist as he pulled back until only the tip of him remained before he snapped his hips against you. Your eyes flew open, your gasp bleeding into breathy moans as Harry set an unrelenting pace. Every curve of his hips had your toes curling, and you wondered to yourself why you hadn’t done this sooner. What had you been so afraid of? As Harry pressed kisses to your neck, fingers tightening in your hair, you remembered what you had been so afraid of.

Yes, Harry had always looked at you like a lover, but never like a lover that he was trying to court, that he hoped would be his. He looked at you like he already knew what you tasted like, felt like. Harry looked at you like a lover that was already his. No matter how many men you’d slept with nor how many drunken makeout sessions you’d participated in, Harry always looked at you like you belonged to him.. He touched you like you were his, wrapped you up in his arms, slid in behind you during the early hours of the morning before the sun even rose like you were his.

You feared what would happen when you finally were.

Your hand clutched the pillow, other fingers scraping the sheets as he pushed himself in and out of you. You could hardly speak, let alone keep your eyes open, and you squeezed them shut, fingers tightening on the pillow with every snap of his hips. You bit your lip, embarrassed by the sounds he was drawing out of you, but despite your efforts, soft whimpers found their way into the air.

“You feel so good, pet,” he breathed. “Doing so well…”

You clenched around him at his praise, and his deep chuckle reached your ears.

“You like that, do you?”

Certain that you were drawing blood by now, you released your lip, a shaky sigh escaping you. The sound of skin slapping against skin overshadowed everything else, and you pressed your forehead against the sheets. Harry had you caged beneath him, his other hand leaving your waist and pressing into the mattress beside your head. Your scalp burned from his tight grip, and your core burned even hotter from his thrusts. When you peeled your eyes open again, you were surprised to find your vision blurry, and it was only after you blinked did you take note of the tears kissing your lashes.

Crying during sex was a first for you, but it couldn’t be helped. Harry was fucking you so good, and you wondered how you’d ever go to anyone else. A laugh threatened to bubble in your chest, but all that escaped was another moan. As if Harry would ever let you… The way he touched you, kissed you, fucked you...it made you think that he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon.

You could feel your stomach tightening, and you reached back to twist your fingers into his dark curls. He groaned at the action, picking up his pace, and his name slipped from your lips again and again and again. Each time a bit higher than the last, and the coil within you snapped, your core clenching and fluttering around his cock. He stilled against you, dewy chest pressed to your back as he spilled into you, flooding your insides with a low moan.

You weren’t even able to catch your breath before he was maneuvering your head to kiss you. He swallowed what little breath you had left, pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back, never breaking the kiss. Your eyes were barely open when he pulled away, and you moved to chase his lips with your own, missing the feel of them already, but his hands on your face prevented you from doing so.

You stared at each other for what felt like a long time, your lashes fluttering as you gazed into his eyes. Harry’s thumbs brushed circles into your skin, and his eyes glinted with something unknown as his lips pulled into a smirk. With a satisfied chuckle, he leaned down to kiss you again.

tags: @lokislastlove @honeychicana

#Harry Styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut

893 notes · View notes