#I just like them in a new relationship figuring it out and all blissed out on each other

[hoshigray]

hmmmm, chosuki both "marking their territory" after one of reader's friends gets a little too touchy?

Love your work <3333333

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: when i tell you i was grinning once i saw this in my inbox, lol, finally chosuki yessss!! ty for loving my stuff ☆

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Choso + Yuki x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - threesome - oral (m! + f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - anal (f! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - cowgirl 69 + missionary positions - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - biting/marking - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, honey, sweetie, sweet pea) - mild possessive behavior.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

“Damn, Y/n, you’re so lucky to have such eye-catchers fawning over you!”

“Pfffthaha, oh, stop it! You’re drunk; stop swinging around!”

There’s one thing in this world that both Yuki and Choso don’t play about — you.

You are the sweetest and most prized treasure they cherish with their very hands. Being in a poly relationship tends to be a hard thing to manage for Yuki and Choso. The two lovers were never in luck to find the right person who didn’t match their vibe or wanted to change the dynamic they were going for. But with every dark tunnel, there’s a light on the other side. And thanks to the blonde and dark brunette’s stars, you were their saving grace.

God, they adored you very much — the best partner they could ever have. The way you’d wake up to them and give them a kiss with a soft ‘good morning,’ how you make lunch for Choso before he goes on his way to work, or texting sweet messages to Yuki to check how she’s doing or telling her about this new place that opened around the area for all three of you to explore. Blind by your smile and caring charm, Yuki and Choso live in eternal bliss and happiness, knowing you have blessed them with your presence to return home to.

Their love for you is mutual and genuine, authentic in that they wish to spend their days — no, their entire lives! — being with you. They see you as their muse, as theirs. So, it’s predictable that they’d be secretly jealous when they’d have to share their piece of heaven with others.

Especially now when all three of you had been dragged by some of your old college buddies for a night out at the pub. Figuring this would be a perfect opportunity to introduce your friends to your lovers, Yuki and Choso were invited over to enjoy the merits of this occasion. What the two partners hadn’t expected was how close you all were — albeit a little too close for their liking. 

You all sat at one big round booth table, Yuki and Choso being separated from you as your friends wanted to have you by them for just the night. Again, it made the two lovers feel uneasy. Even when a girl friend grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with hers enthusiastically, the blonde can’t fight the twitch of her ruby eyes. The friend goes on to say, “Nah, are you kidding? I think those two are the ones who are lucky to have Y/n! They’re such an angel; anyone would feel like they’ve won a million dollars if they got with someone like them.”

Then, a guy who was visibly buzzed joined the praise fest. “You’re so right! I’d do backflips every day if I scored someone so gracious and sweet as Y/n,” the drunk man brings a hand on your shoulder and nestles his cheek to your shoulder. Choso attempts to keep a neutral expression, but caramel eyes carry a tiny hostile aura. “I’d make sure to love on them every single day, kiss their feet when they walk, wash their hair when they ask—“

“Okay, lover boy,” you stop him before your drunken friend digs his foolish grave even further, and it’s hard to hide your giggles. “I think that’s enough Crowne and tequila for one night.”

You and your friends laugh and continue to strike up a conversation to catch up on material. However, you’re so engrossed in the others’ talk that you can’t sense the tension that’s brewing from the other side where your lovers sit. The two survey the scene with silent eyes, with Choso hitting his leg to stop the bounce of his knee and Yuki tapping her fingernails on the table surface.

All they could do was watch you, their treasured partner, share your attention with those who cherish you. Although, internally, they wanted you all to themselves. Yes, it was selfish; however, you can’t blame your lovers for being a little protective of you. Specifically when it seems your friends don’t appear to respect your boundaries when in their company.

So for that, it’s no surprise they instantly pull you into the bedroom once you three return home. Hungry kisses are exchanged between three pairs of lips, lustful hands stripping you of your clothes and throwing you onto the bed, where they meet in seconds to feast upon you.

“Hahhh, fuck…Hmmm, yeah, lick right there, honey.”

“Mmmm…Mmahh!! Choso, your tongue—Ohh! Feels so good…”

The brunette man is lying down on his back with you straddling above him, his face and mouth buried into our folds, licking around your labia and sucking your essence that seeps out from the pleasurable motions. His hands knead the flesh of your inner thighs as you hum along to the touch. Simultaneously, you use your tongue and mouth to give pleasure to Yuki’s slit, the blonde releasing shaky moans as she rides on Choso’s length with her ass.

The tall woman peers down to watch you orally please her. She strokes your head with a pleasant hand and sends praises. “There you go, cutie,” she bites her lip. “Lick it real good.”

Her commands egg you on to keep going, using the motion of her hips to your advantage to predict how far in you can keep lapping her chasm. Your hands crawl to her waist to massage, using the leverage to keep your lips on her at all times. And to your effort, she is sighing happily at the gratification you give her. It has her rock her hips ever harder, taking in Choso’s long shaft with hunger.

The man below you grunts at the motion, stuffing his face more into your cunt to suck harshly. And you can’t help but jolt, muffled squeals vibrating to Yuki’s core — and she relishes the feeling.

“Look at you, baby,” Choso slowly licks your chasm, sending shivers up to your shoulders. “You’re all wet and ready for us, huh? So good for us,” He kisses your clit and places lazy licks, and you fight to lose your balance.

“Hmmm, yeah, so good for us…Although—mmahh,” Yuki throws her head back at Choso’s dick scraping her insides at the right places. “Can’t say you were good when we were…Hohhh..at the pub.” You bat your eyes towards her in confusion, yet your tongue and lips remain busy. “Letting those people touch you in front of us; what were you thinking?”

You remove your mouth from Yuki to explain, her slick connected to your bottom lip. But before you could utter a word, your body jerked to the sharp instance of pain on your inner thigh. Choso had bit you, licking the place his teeth sank in before throwing in another nibble. You shriek, turning to plead to the man to be easy; however, the woman grabs your head and brings it back to where it’s supposed to be. “Don’t forget about me, sweet pea,” she chuckles at your feverish laps on her wet folds. “Give me my attention…”

She moans to your work, satisfying her with the flick of your tongue on her delicate clit. She rocks her hips even faster, prompting Choso to groan and buck his pelvis to her puckered hole, and his mouth remains glued to your chasm. He then sneaks a finger to toy around your asshole, and a sharp gasp erupts from your figure when he inserts the digit inside. 

“—Khhaaa, oooohmy fuckin’—Gaaahh!” Flicks to your clitoris tag along with the push of his finger inside your ass, playing with the texture by scraping the walls. And when his tongue goes inside your vagina, you clamp onto him with vigor. Fuck, I’m so close…! “Yukiiii, pleaseee, can I cumm?”

“Aww, why should I let you,” her sweet tone distracted you from the sneaking bit of the man’s teeth on your thigh once more. “Do you deserve to cum? After letting other people touch you like you forgot you had your lovers present?” 

“Hahhhnn, I’m sorry; I—shit… didn’t mean to upset you both…Ooof!” Choso switches his finger with his thumb, pushing it to and fro inside your tight entrance. Your eyes screw shut, “Please forgive me, you two are the only ones I love…”

“You swear on that, honey?” A glint shines in her magenta orbs. 

You nod hurriedly before placing kisses on Yuki’s thighs and trailing them back to her vagina, “Yessss, I love you both so much, no one knows how to love me as you do…” Your hips sway involuntarily — not a problem for Choso, who sticks to you no matter what. “Mmmm, only you two know my mind and body, and I wouldn’t want it any other way…”

Blonde brows eyebrows screw together; fuck, you knew what to say to make Yuki fall for you all over again. Her cunt clenching on nothing but the love your words carry. Jesus, you were too much. Without a word, she gently withdraws your body from her body so she can lift her body off of Choso. She then flips you over; now you’re the one lying on your back, with the tall woman stationed behind to snake her hands to your breasts.

Choso’s pigtails have long been drawn down for his hair to fall to his nape, and strands of his walnut-colored hair stick to his forehead. Maneuvering to his knees, he examines your anticipated expression, shaky wails coming out your puffy lips as Yuki places soft kisses on your neck. She also places bites wherever her mouth can reach, her hands busy cupping your mounds, groping the mounds, and tweezing your nipples. With how hard she was sucking your skin, you’re sure there’d be hickeys when you wake up in the morning. The man strokes his dick at the sight before him, inching closer to be between your legs.

“Choso…” The way you said his name made him feel warm; the mark across his nose exuded streaks of his blood that threatened to fall. His ears and shoulders get pinker, and your breath hitches when he slaps the tip onto your saliva-coated slit. 

“Who do you belong to, Y/n?” He says it low to your ear, and you chew on your lip when he licks your lobe. His mouth travels down, leaving harsh sucks on your neck and clavicle along with Yuki. Two mouths on your body have you whimpering like a fool, so sensitive to their touch that you could wither away. “Hmm? Who loves you most, sweetie?” He comes down to your chest that’s occupied by Yuki’s worshipping hands, popping a nipple into his mouth to suck with care.

“Hahhh, you, Choso, my darling…” you sigh into the sense of his mouth licking diligently around your bud. Your face turns in Yuki’s direction, smiling at the golden-haired woman before claiming her lips. “And Yuki, my love…”

The two of you kiss slowly yet maintain the same passion you have for each other, noses brushing against each other and tongues swirling before smacking lips together. The brunette lifts his head from your chest, straightening his posture to insert his cockhead inside your vagina. You mewl into Yuki at the insertion, and it doesn’t stop as the woman slithers a hand to your clit to swipe. You break the kiss in a huff, making the blonde snicker. 

“Mmmph…Jesus Christ,” Choso trembles at the warm snug of your cunt as it accepts his length, pushing in for every inch of him to be swallowed in. When his base meets your southern lips, you hiss at how full you feel from his size. “You know how much we love you, right, baby?”

You nod to him, Yuki placing another hickey-worth kiss on your shoulder. “Your love makes me full, honey…Ohooo…!”

“And don’t forget that…” Choso snaps his hips, drilling his long dick into you and making precise hits to the walls of your chasm. You squeak beneath him, the tip of his cock poking your sweet spots with ease, and you’re gripping the sheets to keep you steady along with Yuki’s hold on you.

The blonde woman flickers her ruby eyes to Choso and beams, “You know you’re hot as hell when you’re all possessive, right?”

“Shut up,” he shushes her with a kiss, humming to her lips that reciprocate his feelings as lovers. The only noise that fills the room is your whines and wails from the hands fondling your body and the shaft plunging so far inside you that you can’t contain the ecstatic screams originating from your inner being. Good God, this felt so fucking good; being wanted and loved by these two is a sensation incomparable to anything. You want to drown in it, be immersed within it, have your senses be robbed of their very being until you fall deep into sleep in their embrace. This feels so worth it, so satisfying…

…Until you look at yourself in the mirror and find so many fucking hickeys all over your body, all the way from your neck to the grave of your thighs. This was not a sight to see after waking up, especially on the morning your friends from last night invited you over for brunch. 

Needless to say, you pulled your lovers aside and gave them an earful. The two nodded to your words, saying “Sorry…” throughout your rant as you tried to find an adequate outfit to conceal their markings, feeling a little bad that they got carried away with you last night.

All is good, in any case. Because now they know that you are theirs both in mind and body.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #choso x y/n #yuki tsukumo x reader #yuki tsukumo smut #yuki jjk #tsukumo yuki #yuki x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagines

[hwaflms]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ nct dream reaction to you touching yourself!

‧₊˚ 💭 ✩彡 , , 2.5k, smut under the cut [cw: masturbation, degradation, voyeurism, fingering, very mild dubcon in jaemin’s, nudes, allusions to phone sex, established relationship in most, i think that’s it]

♡ mark . . . the poor baby had just gotten back from practice and was nearing the bedroom door when he heard some sounds of what he thought was you in pain or distress. being the sweet boyfriend he was, he hurriedly went to open the door, but the sight that greeted him was certainly not one he was expecting. you were laid out on the bed, your pants pulled only halfway off your legs as if you were too desperate to even bother taking them off fully, a hand stuffed in your underwear as you threw your head back and let out the prettiest sounds, looking so blissful and fucked out. your eyes shot open at the disturbance that was mark's arrival, the light blush coating your cheeks nothing in comparison to the bright, tomato-red one that decorated his. "fuck, um– i'm sorry, lemme just– i'm just gonna go", he mumbles his way into the bathroom, bumping into the door while trying to enter, but you both knew he looked for too long. now what was he supposed to do? it's not like that godly an image of you is going to leave his head anytime soon, no, of course not, he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it for days, weeks, months even. sprawled out on the bed like that, lips parted and letting out such dirty, magical sounds– fuck, he couldn't help letting his hand travel into his pants in a similar fashion to you. before he knew it, he was jerking himself off to the thought of you (something he had definitely done before, but he had some wonderful new material now), pumping his cock up and down while his breathing became laboured, but in all his haste and pleasure, he had "forgotten" to lock the door. "um, need a little help there?"

♡ renjun . . . you thought renjun texting you “pleaseee baby, come over tn” meant that the two of you would spend time together until you eventually fell asleep, which did happen for a while until your boyfriend excused him to go play “one game with the boys”. though you rolled your eyes at him, you were fine with him playing a game or two, figuring you could just be on your phone for a bit. you weren’t, however, expecting to be sat on your phone for over an hour, with renjun now having his headphones on (you don’t know what the point was, though, you could still hear all the slurs being shouted mutedly from them). “renjun”, you grouched, but he doesn’t even turn to face you. “if you wanna leave me for a man, just say that.” he does laugh at this, but he pleads “one last one”, making you sigh and slump back down on the bed. you had chosen the pretty, new lace underwear you had bought the other day to wear tonight, but now you’re too salty to let him take it off you. deciding to take matters into your own hands, you shimmy out of your shorts, rubbing circles over your underwear with your eyes trained on his back. if he was too busy to touch you, what’s stopping you from doing it yourself? you try and fail to stifle your moans with your arm as you slip your hand into your underwear, rubbing your clit for a moment before dipping your fingers into your entrance. “renjun…”, you call out again, but both of you know it sounds different this time, and he glances over his shoulder at you. it’s almost comical the way he does a double take, pushing his headphones off of one ear, to get a clear look at you. slowly but surely, the tips of his ears and cheeks are dusted with red, but his eyes still shyly observe the hand concealed by your underwear. “oh…”, he sounds out while you throw your head back and whine, his headphones now fully off and you could hear whoever he was on call with distantly calling out “renjun? renjun, what the fuck we’re losing?” he shuts off his computer screen without even looking at it, getting up and slowly walking over to you, sinking down on the edge of the bed. “you just gonna sit there or you gonna help me?”, you grumble, but his eyes don’t miss the way your hips buck up. “wanna watch.”

♡ jeno . . . you swear you had meant to wait for him to return, you had tried your best to busy yourself while jeno was at schedules. he had told you the exact time that he would return, no earlier, no later, than 7:30 p.m. and there he was, promptly unlocking your front door at 7:29 p.m., expecting you to be reading a book in your room, or baking brownies-for-one in your underwear in the kitchen. he definitely wasn’t expecting the sight that greeted him. he had given you one rule for when he was away at work, to “not touch what’s mine”, one simple rule. you seemed eager enough to please him before he left, so he certainly wasn’t expecting to hear moans coming from the kitchen. he watches you for all of five seconds, back facing him with one hand disappearing into the waistband of your shorts, head thrown back a little as you leaned against the counter. “what are you doing?”, the sharp, gruff way in which he says it make you stop immediately, yanking your hand out of your shorts and holding it behind you. it was one thing if you were pleasuring yourself in the bedroom, but right out here? in the kitchen? jeno promptly walks over to you, reaching over and clasping the hand behind your back tightly, jerking it over to him. your fingers all but glisten when held under the ceiling light, and your cheeks redden at the short “pathetic” he spits while looking at you. not breaking the heavy eye contact, he closes his lips over your two fingers, swirling his tongue around them before releasing them with a ‘pop!’. the next thing you know, your face is being pressed against the cold granite surface of the counter hard, while jeno’s other hand holds both your wrists together behind your back. “you know how to count, right?”, he asks demeaningly, and while he lets go of your head, your cheek is still pressed against the counter so hard you can see the condensation form as you breath, nodding your head before he yanks your shorts down with such force that you can still feel the burn on your hips five seconds later. he places the palm of his hand flat against your ass, pulling your underwear up to reveal more flesh. “i’m gonna show you what happens to whores when they don’t follow a simple rule.”

♡ haechan . . . “well, well, well," you could practically hear the smirk in his voice, tone dripping, pouring with desire, just sounding so sultry. your eyes shot open at the sound of him, squealing shortly and rushing to cover yourself up with the blanket. "what do we have here?", he cooed from the door, one foot in front of the other and a hand placed against the doorframe, leaning against it. "f-fuck off, hyuck", you replied breathlessly, cheeks dusted with pink due to your embarrassment and also the rush you were feeling from touching yourself. he wasn't supposed to be back so early, you thought you were going to be alone for a little while longer; clearly you were wrong. "fuck off? did you mean 'fuck me'?", he drawled, letting out a half scoff and half chuckle, slowly sauntering towards you. “why don’t you show me what you were doing there?”, his suggestion sounds more like an order, and its like you lose the ability to think when he reaches over you to lead the hand straying away from your pussy right back, inclining his head to the side expectantly. under his urging, watchful eyes, you continue your previous actions, eyes widening when hyuck lets out an almost pornographic moan at the sight. sinking your fingers deeper into yourself, you whimper out of pure frustration from the fact that these were your fingers instead of his, and you swear you are almost in tears when he says, “stop”. he’s quick to replace your fingers with his own, coating his digits in your wetness before pumping two into you without any warning. “think you can give me three? maybe four orgasms?”, he cooes, tutting when you shake your head ‘no’. “i think we’re gonna find out.”

♡ jaemin . . . “aren’t you sweet?”, to say hearing your roommate jeno’s friend’s sultry voice startled you would be an understatement, fully believing you were home alone when you started pleasuring yourself. “jaemin– what the fuck–”, a blushing, bumbling mess, you’re quick to yank your blanket over your partially naked body, not knowing how long he’d been standing there watching you or how he had gotten into your house in the first place, choosing to ask about the latter first. “how the fuck did you get in? and did no one ever teach you how to knock?”. tilting his head to the side, jaemin raises his eyebrows but makes no efforts to hide the way his eyes scanned over your blanket-covered body, tracing your hips, collarbones, legs with his gaze. “jeno gave me the keys. and that’s not fair, the door wasn’t shut. besides, you called me”, he replies coolly, taking a step into the room but leaving the door wide open, as if you invited him in. “i heard you call my name in that pretty little voice of yours, but i thought you were hurt. didn’t think you were fucking yourself with your fingers to the thought of me.” you move to further cover yourself up as he walks closer to you, embarrassed out of your mind that he both heard you moan his name and watched you touch yourself. but what he does next really has you shocked– eyes never leaving yours, his hand snakes over to his pant-covered cock, gripping it with a satisfied hiss, a smirk curving on his lips when he sees your look of surprise and…desire??? “you see how hard i am for you, pretty?”, he all but moans out and you do see, the outline of his cock straining against the material of his sweatpants and making your mouth almost water at the thought of it. without another word, he’s in front of you, pulling his raging boner free from his pants. “what do you say we give jeno a little show when he comes back?”

♡ chenle . . . “damn, you started without me?” after enjoying the dinner you had cooked for the two of you, you suggested taking a shower together before slipping into bed to watch a show. following the routine that you had wherein one of you would cook and the other would clean, chenle grabbed your plate and his, placing them in the sink and telling you that he’ll be there in about ten minutes after he finished washing the dishes. figuring you could just get undressed and enjoy the extra space in the shower before your boyfriend joined you, you opted to start without him, but leaving the door unlocked for him. the second the hot water hits your body, you are relaxed, letting it soak your hair and cover your body. you trail your hands along your body to further spread the water, but soon you can’t ignore the dull thud coming from your core when you reach your inner thighs. grazing your fingers against yourself and testing the waters, you slowly begin your ministrations, spreading your folds with more intent now. another two minutes in and you’re blatantly touching yourself, head resting against the glass of the shower, steam engulfing its expanse while you sigh out of bliss. chenle, having left the dishes to dry, decided to join you, ridding himself of his clothes and finding the bathroom door to be partially open. when he’s greeted by the sight of you, your back is facing him, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand what you were doing. when you finally hear his voice, you look over your shoulder in surprise and slight embarrassment, but that is soon replaced with pure lust when your eyes mirror the look in his. “thought i’d get a head start”, you offer, slowly picking up the pace with your hand. “is that so?”, he muses, placing his hand over yours but not stopping your actions. “we both know that i can make you cum much faster than you can.”

♡ jisung . . . when you first started dating your boyfriend jisung, you didn’t realise just how much time you’d be spending on your own. if he wasn’t away at practices, he was busy filming various videos and content, so a large portion of your day was spent waiting for him. this was not to say you were unsatisfied with your relationship, you still got to spend time with him and when you did, it was time well spent. all you were saying is that you got a little lonely and bored at times, and that would explain why you were currently standing by the sink, debating whether you should hit send. you had just finished taking a couple photos of yourself during a moment of confidence and horniness and now they sat in the message bar of yours and jisung’s dms, waiting to be sent. you and jisung had gone there multiple times, but nudes were unexplored territory, yet you thought, fuck it, and hit send. even though you know he’s busy, it doesn’t take long before the ‘delivered’ changes to a ‘seen’, and you watch as the typing bubbles appear and disappear a number of times. after five minutes or so, you’re starting to worry and overthink, biting your lip when you see that jisung is now trying to call you. you pick up and play it off with as much confidence as you can, but jisung sounds the opposite– breathing heavy and voice quiet, like he’s trying to make sure no one hears him, and you hear the sound of a lock clicking. “why would you– are you–”, he blubbers, clearly at a loss for words and you can just picture him, cheeks coated with a sheen of red, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing. “what are you doing right now?”, he asks in a goofy manner and you can’t help your chuckle at the sound of his shy voice, cooing into the speaker. “i was missing you, sungie…”, you mewl, positively beaming when you hear him audibly gulp. “was thinking about you.” his breathing quickens and he mumbles “thinking of me?”, before he clears his throat. “what about me?” you smile at his inability to balance his shyness and desire, and you tell him what you were thinking about, soon hearing the telltale sound of a zipper being pulled down.

#nct #kflixnet #nct drabbles #nct x reader #nct headcanons #nct au #nct fluff #nct fic #nct imagines #nct dream #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct dream headcanons #nct dream angst #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream reactions #nct reactions #mark smut #renjun smut #jeno smut #haechan smut #jaemin smut #chenle smut #jisung smut #nct blurbs #nct angst #nct oneshot

[borathae]

↳ Full Art

"You run in on Yoongi touching himself in the shower and he begs you to punish him because of it. Hard."

Pairing: Yoongi x n.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: sub!Yoongi, masochist!Yoongi, rough Dom!Reader, he is naked and wet, CBT, cock slapping, safe ball busting with a knee, leaky cocks, dirty talk, degradation, he wants to be called dirty/bad slut, hair pulling, subby boy tears, drool, praise, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), Yoongi has a kink for being manhandled, male masturbation in shower, nipple sucking, cuddly aftercare, he's just a cute lil masochist who wants his balls busted and get hugs after <3

Wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: okay so, I'm trying trying the new format. istfg besties, Patreon is so stressful I might actually cry. idk how to do it so I'll like it 😭 okay so, my idea is that i'll post the story and a very cropped art preview (as seen on the header) here on Tumblr and if anyone wants to check out the full art to the story, they have to go to my Patreon. Engagement as far as stories is concerened is very bad on Patreon *glares* and I really miss yelling about the stories with you guys. So for my own peace of mind, i'll keep the stories on Tumblr and give all my true connoisseurs something extra spicy to thirst over on Patreon hehe <3 thank you for being patient with me. I promise to keep drawing and improving and to feed y'all thirsty hoes (affectionately) as much as I can 💜 also lmao those are long a/n fjajsdf have fun besties sorry it took a lil longer today, i tried to figure out how i wanna do sexy art of the month from now on fajdjfs

The bathroom is fogged up and smells heavily like Yoongi’s soap. Masculine, clean and expensive. You find yourself hazy because of it. What truly seals the state of you, however, is the view. Mirrors misted up, air milky from steam and right there in his expensive walk-in shower, Yoongi is having his throbbing cock in his tight fist. The water is turned off right now, but his body is still wet. His dark hair is slicked back, his silky skin is glistening and his head is tilted back in bliss as soft sighs slip past his pouty lips. 

You walked in on him touching himself. You really didn’t plan on doing so, but can’t seem to get yourself to leave. Or to stop staring for that matter.

He has a languid rhythm going. Slow, but clearly skilled. His long fingers are wrapped tightly around his veiny cock. His thumb is drawing circles on his flushed tip and pretty frenulum. He is sensitive there, likes it especially when someone is being gentle with it. His dark nipples are hard and the pale skin around them is flushed as if he had played with them moments before. Knowing Yoongi, he did. He is such a slut for nipple play. He is so fucking tender there. 

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out breathily, gliding his left hand up his own torso as he fucks his cock slowly. 

He is tensing and relaxing his stomach, broadening his stance as his knees wobble. He furrows his brows, biting down on his lower lip as small mewls leave him repeatedly. His long fingers close around his own biceps, giving it a needy squeeze. Look at the marks he leaves, look at how he is tensing his muscles.

You find yourself gulping and taking heavy breaths at the view.

What made him so goddamn needy? 

One thing Yoongi rarely does, is to jerk off. He sees it as something useless because if he gets horny, he has you to take the burden off his shoulders. He also rarely gets horny without you in the first place, so there is that. So to have him so incredibly lost in masturbation is rare and therefore insanely addicting.

What made him so needy? Was it a memory? A fantasy? A picture or video? Was it nothing of that sorts and he merely touched his cock wrong as he cleaned himself? Did the water hit the right spot and trap him in the delicious sensation of its wet massage? 

What did it to him?

“___”, Yoongi moans loudly, leaking onto the floor.

Your stomach clenches. Holy fuck. You did it to him. You did. The thought of you, the memory of your touch and the image of you did it to him. You let out a small gasp at the realisation.

Yoongi startles at the sound and opens his eyes. He stops, tenses up. You freeze, holding your breath. The air between you and him is tense and electric. He blinks at you, mouthing your name quietly.

“I uhm”, you begin, clearing your throat loudly.

He drops his hand from his biceps, tightening his fingers around his cock. He can’t seem to leave his trance of shock. The only indicator that the view of you is turning him on, is his increasing breathing and how needily his long fingers still hold his cock.

“I uhm, sorry. I wasn’t staring, I mean, I was but I- sorry, I uhm, I’m gonna leave now”, you stutter and turn to leave.

“Help me.” 

You halt, wobbling slightly because he is making your knees buckle. You turn around, dancing your eyes over his body.

“Sorry?” 

“Help me. Please”, he begs and tugs at his cock weakly, biting down on his lower lip as he does. Look at the needy kitten eyes he is making at you. 

“Really?” you get out, feeling dizzy at the view. You want to ruin this man. You really do.

He nods his head, lowering his eyes at you. He is taunting you as much as he is begging you.

You do not bother to take off your clothes, he only has to nod his head twice and then you are already in the shower, eating him up with just your eyes. 

Yoongi cups your face and kisses you. He mewls needily as he does it, sucking on your lips and tongue more than he actually kisses you. It is so lazy, so slow and yet so intensely passionate. He is so lost in you, so entirely addicted to your taste that he is solely running on it. Whatever he fantasised about before really did it to him. You feel up his torso hungrily, moaning at the delicious taste of him.

He is shivering with each touch, chasing the feeling of you with wiggles of his hips which force his cock to grind against your clothed stomach. The fabric of your hoodie feels rough against his sensitive tip. He craves the silkiness of your skin like plants crave sunlight.

He breaks the kiss with a sigh of your name, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I was bad”, he breathes.

“You were?” you are kneading his waist, staring at his flushed face with hazy eyes.

“Yeah. Thought of you ‘til I got needy”, he rasps and mewls quietly, mouthing at the tip of your nose, “touched myself to you.”

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Punish me.” 

“Punish you?” 

“Please.”

You step back and pick up his cock so you could slap his tip. Gently for now, to test the waters. 

Yoongi moans loudly, squeezing your cheeks softly. His knees buckle slightly.

“Like this, mhm?” you ask, slapping him again. Soft. Careful. Get him used to it. Or needy for more. You are fine with both options as long as it ends in your boyfriend panting and needy.

He scrunches his face in pleasure, letting out a shaky “mh-hm” before he follows it up with a breathy, “don’t stop please.” 

“Fuck Yoongi, you’re driving me insane. You’re so hot.”

“I’m a bad slut”, he croaks.

“Yeah, the fucking worst. Bad slut, such a bad slut”, you growl, giving him harsh spanks. Now that you know he wants it, you are so happy to give it to him.

He takes each of your spanks with a blissed moan and a twitch of his cock. His pink tip got so much pinker ever since you started playing with him. His chest is flushed as well, looking so untouched.

You take his heavy cock between your fingers and pick up his favourite rhythm. Then you step closer to litter his chest with kisses. Wet and sloppy. You need to mark his skin as yours and taste him in the process.

Yoongi arches his back, dropping his head against the glass behind him. Your name slips past his lips, his hands grab your waist and squeeze. 

“You’re a bad slut, Yoongi love, but you’re such a pretty slut at that”, you rasp and take his left nipple between your teeth. You tug on it, making him moan. You suck on it, making him mewl. You lick it, making him sigh your name.

He is tender there. Just as you said.

And as you give him heaven with just your mouth, your hands are busy feeling him up. Your right hand fucks his cock like it deserves to be fucked, while your left hand feels up his waist and hips. He fits so perfectly between your fingers. It is like he is made to be touched by you and only you. His skin is so soft and warm, leaving behind wetness on your fingertips from the previous shower. His cock is twitching so cutely in your hold.

You lift your lips from his right nipple after worshiping it as well, tilting your head so you are looking at his pretty face. You cup his pink cheek.

“Look at me.”

Yoongi obeys, fluttering his lashes at you. He is breathing so heavily, gazing at you as if you were his fucking everything.

“You’re a pretty slut. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods his head, choking out a shy “yeah.”

“You do. Good. Don’t forget it, kitten”, you order and slow your hand around his tip. It sits between your fingers. You increase the pressure slightly and move your hand again. Just a little, just enough that he’s getting fucked so good.

Yoongi gasps, widening his eyes for just a second before rolling them back.

“No, no look at me.”

Yoongi obeys with a mewl of your name.

“That’s better. I wanna look at your pretty eyes.”

“I have to cum”, he moans.

“Cause you’re looking at me?”

He nods his head, leaking all over your palm, “can’t hold it…like…this.”

“God, you lovedrunk slut, you”, you tease, giving his favourite spot a good rub.

“Please”, he begs, “please, can I cum?”

“Mhhm, don’t know. Do you deserve it?”

“Please I, mghm, I’ll give you head later”, he bargains with the prettiest kitten eyes.

“Obviously, you’re gonna do that anyways. Do better, Yoongi slut”, you warn, slowing down dangerously.

“Please”, he begs louder and thrusts his hips into your fist. 

It earns him a harsh spank, “behave.”

“Fuck please. I-I’ll cockwarm you, promise I, I won’t move. Please.” 

“But Yoongi, where is the fun in that? I’ll do that anyways. You know that bad, dirty jerk off sluts get cockwarmed”, you coo as your skilled fingers torture his flushed tip. He is burning up, smearing his precum all over your digits. 

“I have to cum so bad”, he croaks and spills tears, “please can I cum? I’ll be so good please.” 

“Fine. You can cum”, you say calmly even if your hand is giving his cock such a good fuck. He didn’t convince you, you just simply have a better way to ruin him how he so clearly craves.

“___”, he moans and closes his eyes sensually. Moments later, his swollen cock releases all over your hand. His knees buckle, he finds support by grabbing your shoulders and arching his back. His moan is loud and drawn-out.

“Look at you”, you moan with him, speeding up your hand now that he is giving you such a good show, “good slut, cum for me. That’s my good slut.”

Yoongi is shaking and trembling in bliss, but soon begins shaking and trembling for other reasons. You aren’t slowing down. His balls are empty, his cock so overstimulated, but you aren’t slowing down. You jerk off his cock as if it has a debt to pay, giving him burning heaven in the process. 

He finally realises what he signed up for and that your sweet words were nothing but deception. He didn’t convince you. You aren’t done with him. One wasn’t enough. 

“Please, please, pl-please”, he begs, trying to flee you as much as chases you. 

“One more, kitten. Give me one more.” 

“I can’t. Oh god, I can’t”, he mewls and stumbles as he tries to flee.

You grab him and pin him against the glass harshly, knocking a weak gasp out of him. His knees buckle, his teary eyes gaze at you with all the devotion he can muster. He loves when you’re rough with him, when you show him that he is yours to manhandle.

“Give me more”, you growl, speeding up around his cock.

“No please”, Yoongi mewls and tries to wiggle away just so you can put him back in his place. He parts his legs, hoping that you take the silent hint.

You do. Of course you do. You lift your knee against his balls hard enough that it hurts. Yoongi folds into himself with a pained moan, grabbing your waist. He is already so fucking hard again, throbbing in your hand as if he never released before. 

“Stop fleeing me”, you growl and knee him again, twisting your hand around his burning tip at the same time. 

Yoongi sobs, burying his face in your shoulder. It hurts so much. He has never been so fucking high on pleasure before. It feels so good. Yoongi swears every second is the best second he ever experienced.

“Understood? You do not flee me”, you give his tender balls one last harsh nudge with your knee, then grab his hair to pull his head back. 

He coughs out a sob, spilling tears and drool all down his pretty face. He can barely even keep his eyes open, let alone stop them from crossing. 

He is so pretty. 

“What’s with that pretty face?” you challenge, pumping his overstimulated cock quickly as you grind your knee against his balls at the same time. 

“Yours”, he croaks.

“That’s right. Mine. My pretty slut.”

“You’re making me cum.” 

“See? I knew you could give me more. Don’t hold back, slut.”

“Knee. Please.” 

You knee him a fourth time. Yoongi wails up, folding into himself in both pain and pleasure before spilling all over your hoodie and his stomach. So his balls weren’t empty yet. Of course they weren’t. You are proving to him how much of a slut he actually is.

He melts into you, shaking on your knee as your name leaves him like his prayer of bliss.

“Good slut, give me everything. Such a good slut. That’s so much better, I knew one wasn’t enough. Your pretty balls are never empty after only one. That’s it. Good slut”, you talk him through it, holding him safely as your hand milks him dry.

Soon Yoongi slacks into you, grabbing your wrist to stop your movements.

“No more.”

You don’t listen just to tease him, giving his burning tip a tight massage. He trembles and writhes, squeezing your wrist.

“Stop.”

You are going to stop, but first you need to tease him just a little more. A few more squeezes and rubs, a little pump and tug.

“Please”, he begs breathily, wiggling his hips away from you.

“You’re so cute”, you coo and finally drop his ruined cock.

“Thank you”, he sighs and sinks into you, hugging you tightly as he recovers.

You hug him back, tracing his spine.

“How was that, mhm?” you ask him, speaking in a soft voice.

He nods his head slowly, humming. 

“Yeah? Was it good for you?” 

“Was perfect”, he lulls and purrs contently, “thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh god, I need to lie down now”, he says and chuckles, “my balls are so fucking tender.”

“I can imagine. I kicked them really hard. Are you okay? Should I get something for the pain?”

He shakes his head, “you did it so right. Thank you so much.”

You smile, “that’s good to hear. You’re such a good boy.”

Yoongi nuzzles his nose against your neck and purrs softly, melting under your praise. You know exactly how to love him.

“I love you so much”, he mumbles.

“I love you too.”

“I actually wanna lie down though.”

You chuckle, “okay, okay let’s get you cleaned up and cozy. You’re gonna get back scratches in bed”, you say as you lead him to the shower head.

“And ear rubs.”

“And ear rubs. As my prince wishes”, you say and turn on the water to wash away the mess he left. Yes, you will change into different clothes, “how’s the temperature, love?”

“Good. Nice.”

“Yeah? Is it good how I’m touching you?” you ask as you clean his cock and balls with gentle fingers.

He nods his head, “hm.”

“Good. God, Yoongi love, you’re so handsome.” 

Yoongi blushes, lowering his eyes shyly. Yeah, you definitely know how to love him.

#yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi scenario #yoongi oneshot #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #sub!yoongi #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts oneshot #bts x reader #bts x you #sub!bts #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan scenario #bangtan oneshot #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #sub!bangtan #sibis art

[fairies-in-the-garden]

a worthwhile purchase

pedro pascal x fem!reader | 3k words

summary: your new robe grips pedro's attention… leaving the both of you very pleased you bought it

warnings/notes: explicit (18+). smut. p in v. oral (fem receiving). established relationship. mutual teasing (but dominant pedro) some soft pedro. pretty much filth with some lead up.

a/n - first post!!! i've been writing for years but only now have the guts to post anything. sorry if it’s a bit too wordy (i just love writing detailed description) i really hope you enjoy - this one was very fun to make :)

--- --- ---

with a flick of the light switch, you make your way out of the darkened bathroom to join pedro in bed. the thought of curling up sweetly beside him almost as warm as the new robe, fresh from the dryer, that delicately hugs your figure.

to your surprise, he is sitting on the end of the bed, patiently, seemingly awaiting your arrival. the sound of your soft steps against the hardwood floor catches his attention, his head turning to you approaching in the doorway. instantly, his expression shifts - a look all to familiar, happily so.

“what?” you say a few times, at first with genuine curiosity, then more so with slight tease. you can’t help but smirk at him, against your best attempt at remaining unaffected by his gaze.

you’re stuck standing in your place against the doorframe; his affect on you strong as ever. nevertheless, you try to fight it - the best way you know how.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you say, teasingly. you know the meaning beneath that look. but you also know that how you approach this moment, makes the reason for that look’s presence even more avid.

“like what?” he plays along, per usual. he has that way of never breaking character. that way of not revealing his fatal smirk until he wants to.

“like a kid in a candy store.” you reply, coyly.

“i can't help it, it's how i feel.” his head tilts to the side, as to take you all in. his stare burns into you, and you love the way it stings just right.

blushing, you walk towards him; pedro’s eyes never dropping their gaze upon yours. his legs spread instinctually to allow you closer, yet his hands stay prudently at his side. you step in as far as possible, thighs touching thighs. as you place your hands at his ever-so-tense shoulders, his hands wrap swiftly around your wrists, grabbing hold of them gently. his eyes remain locked on yours as his lips, in which your timid gaze has fallen to, part to speak. “when did you get this?”

at first, your mind is too blissed out to understand what he’s referring to, but his fingers quickly bring you back to reality. one of his hands now trails to the sleeve of your filly new robe; black and satin, draped over your body in the most heavenly way. the front hangs open, exposing your figure beneath it.

“today,” you state plainly.

“any particular reason?” he says suggestively.

“i like the way it makes me feel.”

“i like the way it makes you look.” he says, eyes widening at his own words as they scan up and down your frame. you scoff slightly in response, unconvinced of his words of praise.

“i’m not even in my sexy underwear.” you find yourself to say in a whisper, though not exactly sure why. probably the nerves from his longing eyes now back on yours.

“i still think they're sexy,” his lips remain parted slightly, as if to say more. his hands fall from their place on your arms to your hips, his fingers hanging gingerly from the waistband of your panties. then he continues, shyly like a child, but with enough charm to kill a village, “can i take them off?”

his hard, dominating gaze falls soft for a moment as he begs beneath you. with the slight shift, a surge of confidence rushes through you.

“i suppose.” you say teasingly, feeling as though you now have the upper hand.

his hands make their way around your waist to your back. icy, their touch sends a shiver up your spine. abruptly, to your dismay, you exclaim "jesus your hands are cold!” your eyes fall shut, head thrown back, as your hands grasp the hair at the back of his head for support.

“not for long.” he claims, the smirk in his voice evident. and just like that, as usual, your short-lived dominance has been stolen. your eyes remain shut for a moment, as if to prepare yourself for what’s to come.

“look at me.” you tilt your head down before slowly opening your eyes; eyelids hanging low as if to cover yourself somehow. but theres no staying covered when pedro is like this.

he looks up at you, pupils enlarging as he takes you all in. you feel his hand gently trace circles on your lower back. you watch him intently as he leans forward, placing a kiss between your breasts. the contact makes you shudder, your breath hitching and becoming heavier, more needy. you’re convinced he must be able to hear your heart beating from the outside; it’s certainly all you can hear in the moment. he hums as he pulls away from the lingering kiss.

“i love that after all these years you still react that way.” he thinks he is in control here, and although you know he is, you’re desperate to act the opposite. after a moment of collection, you have the courage to speak.

“and still, after all these years, i'm impatient.” you say giving him a certain look.

“i’m gonna take things slow.” - again with the assumed control, you think.

“i’ll allow it.” you say proudly, managing to remain serious and self-assured. he chuckles at your words, a defeated grin taking over his lips. that’s better.

both of pedro’s hands trail up, locating the clasp of your bra and undoing it in a swift, skilled motion. you’d hoped he’d find your wearing it to bed silly, leading to this eventually; but this is all the more greater than you’d anticipated.

your breasts spill out slightly, though still somewhat contained by the straps wrapped around your shoulders. pedro’s hands slowly snake out from behind your back, carefully caressing your waist on the way. reaching both arms up the billowing sleeves of your robe, he grabs ahold of the straps, gently bringing them down around your arms.

“now that's real sexy, huh?” you say sarcastically at the odd maneuver. he watches you intently as you speak, spellbound by you. you’re not even sure he heard what you said. then his eyes make way to your chest, your breasts bouncing out from your bra, now fallen to the floor.

“really sexy.” he says, eyeing your now exposed chest.

his hands find their way around you again, pulling you in to close the gap. you fall into him, your legs lazily finding their place on either side of him for support. eager, his mouth finds way to your breasts, leaving a trail of sweet kisses across your skin. the warm, wet sensation leaves you entranced. your chest rapidly heaves as he works his magic. coming up for air, he looks to you, eyes darkened with lust, before diving back in for more - this time to your mouth.

his kiss starts sweet, tender, and deepens to a rough, sloppy fashion. your hands, still tangled in his hair, move down to the neck of his shirt, pulling on it as if to signal him. he obeys, lifting his arms up, not breaking the kiss until the last necessary moment. once his shirt is off, thrown somewhere across the room, he goes right back for more.

his hands are immediately back to your waist, nuzzled under the soft satin of your robe. your lips go numb from the euphoria of it all. gently, he grabs your bottom lip with his teeth, nibbling it softly. releasing it, with one last peck to your mouth, he pulls away. you whimper at the loss of contact.

“can you lay down for me?” he asks tenderly as he rises, guiding you up with him. you happily take his supporting arms, finding that your legs are no help in the process. eyes lock as you nod, biting your lip as you turn with him, your body now the one at the edge of the bed. 

he leads you benevolently to lay on your back, using his knee to spread your legs as he does. your body melts into the mattress, completely at pedro’s will - and he lives for it.

your back arches as you adjust yourself on the bed. pedro’s rough hands lay softly on your knees, holding them open as he watches over you. “fuck,” his tone is rough before it turns sweet, “look at you...” you wonder if the words weren’t meant to slip out. you blush at them regardless. 

as his hands slide up your thighs, your eyes squint shut in anticipation. pedro, however, wildly gazes down at you. “so wet for me already, huh...” he says brazenly, noticing your already soaked panties. his hands linger closer to tease the skin just before your still clothed pussy, achingly taking his time.

“pedro,” you whimper. the pace, although clearly stated earlier, is driving you crazy with need. he ignores your words and continues his game. climbing onto the end of the bed, he hovers over you. his hands now on your waist. his eyes locked on your burning face. you watch him, dazed, waiting for him to make his next move.

his fingers dance around the waistband of your panties, beginning to tug at them, then stopping all at once. you grunt. he laughs to himself, then proceeds again. looping around the hem, pedro pulls them down painfully slowly. the cool air of the room hits your most sensitive spot in a delightfully, erotic way. 

as you lift your hips for him to remove the tangled cloth the rest of the way, he helps you - raising your legs the rest of the way then resting them over his shoulders when done. leaning down, you feel his hot breathe right where you want it.

with a kiss to each thigh, ever so close to your throbbing center, you let out an agonizing moan. “pedro, please.” you sound desperate, but you don’t care anymore.

“what?” acting coy, he begins to pull back to look to you, but you force him back down with your legs before he has the chance. you hear that smirk in his voice again when he speaks, “what do you want, baby? tell me.”

“touch me,” you say instantly, breathlessly, “now.”

in lieu of words, he breaks the distance. his mouth crashing into your pussy, spreading you open with his warm, eager tongue. he aims straight for your aching clit. a whimpering mess, your back wiggles and arches with every movement. your hands grasp hopelessly at the sheets before moving to his hair. his head bobs beneath your hands, your body squirming pleasantly beneath him.

“oh fuck,” you let out as his tongue works at all the places you need it most.

“that’s it baby,” his words are tender as he pulls away briefly. a whimper is all that fills the air as you mourn the loss of his sweet contact. with composure, you lift your head to look down at him. his face shiny, lips dripping with your slick, his eyes fixated on yours. 

with a smirk he spits directly on your clit. your back arches at the euphoric sensation. eyes rolling back, your head follows swiftly with a thud to the pillow beneath it. before you can even plead for him to hurry up, pedro dives right back in for more; eager to clean up the mess he’s made.

your legs struggle to remain open, closing in around his head, as the feeling in your lower stomach builds more intensely. his hands, wrapped firmly around your thighs, hold you down and open for him. breaking contact with your aching slit once more, he speaks softly against your inner thigh, “use your hips baby, take what you need from me.” with a kiss to your warm skin, he resumes his favorite activity.

this time he aims further down, fucking your hole with his skillful tongue. your hips remain still beneath his touch, too focused on keeping a steady breath. but he is clear in his demands; he always is. pressing his nose to your clit, the motion of his work creates the perfect rhythm for an increasing high. tightening your grip on the curls by his neck, you wiggle and grind beneath his face. with every flick of his tongue, every bounce of his nose on your throbbing bud, you’re tugging, pulling at his hair. soft, pleased moans vibrate against you’re wet folds.

“oh god,” you exclaim, “fuckkk,” your words dissolve into a pathetic whimper. he takes this as a sign to go harder. mouth now returning to your clit, he begins to suck, his hand now nearing to join it. two rough fingers slip up and down your opening, acclimating them to your pussy. teasingly slowly and with intentional force, he fills you up just right.

“pedro please,” you huff out in agony. removing his mouth from your wet slit, he looks up to you; pretty as a devil. fingers still working your pussy he speaks, tone low and full of lust, “please... what?” you know the game he’s playing at.

not an ounce of the teasing confidence you earlier tried to possess is left in you as he tires you from the inside out. when you don’t speak quick enough, his rough fingers begin to bend, curling up into you in an assertive manner. 

a frustrated “fuck,” leaves your lips, quivering from the overstimulation. “please,” he watches as your chest rises and falls with heavy, shaky breathes, “i need you...” you know that’s not going to satisfy him to the extent he desires, so you breathlessly continue, “i need you to fuck me.”

fingers slipping out of you with a pop, pedro brings them to your mouth with dark eyes searing into your own. “open,” you oblige with no contest. taking his dripping fingers into your mouth, your tongue licks the mess you’d made of them clean.

with swiftness, he’s at the end of the bed, on his feet before you; eyes never leaving yours. your own, heavy with lust, look hungrily up to him. your shaking fingers find their way to peaked nipples from their place clutching the sheets beneath you. circling your raised peaks you begin to thrust your hips at nothing; eager for the presence of him.

pedro’s hands are at his waistband. rapidly, he undoes his belt with ease. jeans falling to his feet, he wastes no time in fully removing them before he’s grabbing you by the hips to pull you to him. 

adjusting himself to your entrance, he spits on your open, throbbing pussy once more before he slides in with delicious ease. you pull your bottom lip in to stop the whimper that begs to fall from it.

“that’s it baby, atta girl.” one of his hands presses firmly down on your right hip, holding you in place. at the same time, his other hand lingers up to grab ahold of your breast. the room, dim and hot, is filled only with the sounds of skin on skin, of whimpers and moans, of pure, overwhelming pleasure.

his thrusts are steady and deep before he suddenly pulls out, running the tip of his cock firmly against your aching clit. your back arches involuntarily, head digging firmly into the pillow for support. with efficiency, he’s back inside in an instant. 

he’s huddled over on top you now, his chest on yours, craving to be as close to you as he can. as he dips his head into the curve of your neck, hot breathe fans across your skin sending a shiver down your burning hot spine. your rapid pulses and shaky breaths begin to sync as pedro pounds up into your g-spot. your arms go suddenly to grip his shoulder’s for support as he hits it just right.

head still buried in your neck, he leaves sweet kisses behind your ear, nipping at the soft the skin here and there. with his thrusts becoming sloppier and slower he speaks, “you close baby?” your walls clench from his words, your back arching under his weight. “fuck,” he hisses.

“cum for me baby,” he demands before softening his tone, “can you do that?” he slips out slightly before diving deep into you again. hard and fast, he works your body to climax. spasming, inside and out, you begin to whine and cry out. clenching down tight around his cock, you have so much built up energy you simply don’t know what to do with. your nails dig into the toned muscles at the back of his neck as you squirm beneath him. “yeahhh, just like that baby,” he hums, coaxing you through your orgasm.

the pressure in your stomach builds and builds before it collapses like a wave against the shore. gasping for air, your hands caress pedro’s head as he follows right behind you. with a final rough thrust, he’s done for - the tough man that held so much power over you, now a whimpering mess at your will.

“oh fuck baby, fuck,” he whines. 

moments pass, your bodies still entwined as you come down from your shared breathless high. with a kiss to your temple, pedro finally removes his twitching cock from within you. a low and gutural groan escapes him as he slides through your tight walls one final time.

falling to the bed beside you, his arms stay tenderly wrapped around your body. laying there easing your breath, you look around the room. layers of clothing lay scattered about, but the only thing you care to take note of is your new robe tousled on the floor. a lazy smirk creeps onto your flushed face.

pedro, watching over you with admiration, brushes the unruly hair from your face. noticing your gaze fixated on something, he follows it. with a soft chuckle and a tender squeeze to your hip he states into the still calm after the storm, “i’m real glad you got that thing.” he plants a warm kiss to your shoulder. turning to face him, you sink into the depth of his big brown eyes.

“me too,” you hum, blissfully.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #husband pedro pascal #joel miller #javier pena #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian #pedro pascal fic #pedro smut #pedro fluff #pedro pascal fandom #javier pena smut #joel miller smut #established relationship #fem reader #x reader #pedro is daddy #pedro #fairies-in-the-garden

[cozycottagetarot]

What Do They Daydream About You?

How To Pick A Pile:

Everyone has their own technique for choosing a 'pile'. My recommendation is to clear your mind and focus on each image for a few seconds. The image you find yourself coming back to even when you focus on the other images is the pile for you.

Quick notes on this reading:

I'm experimenting with a different style. -- I've been working on shorter, less structured, formal pacs (and some longer ones). I'm not sure how I feel about it but I'd like to hear your thoughts too!

I apologise for any errors. -- My immune system and I have literally been at war for weeks, so know if there are any errors, I probably missed it while wincing in pain. 😅

It's purely for entertainment purposes. -- Don't think I need to explain more. Take what resonates be it all of it, some of it or none at all.

PILE 1

14:44 as I pulled the last card, maybe 444 is of importance to you at the moment. Knight in shining armour vibes. Noble acts or intentions of just sweeping you off your feet. Introducing you to their friends and or family. Daydreams of big celebrations of being with you, internally and externally. For some, they daydream about celebrating the news of having a child with you. Finding peace after long struggles... starting anew with you. Domestic bliss, as in chilling at home with someone you love, not doing much of anything. Or simply enjoying the mundane tasks together. Going for walks. Having a cup of tea or coffee together. Peppering your skin with kisses... maybe physical touch is their love language. The ghost of their fingertips on your skin. Heart-to-heart conversations. Falling into a routine with you. The magic of embarking on new beginnings with you.

PILE 2

North Star Vibes. Holding out hope that they make it to you. Trying to make life better so they can show up for you. They daydream about how you make them stronger, about you being a good influence on them. It's like the thought of you soothes them when they're struggling. Dreaming that happiness is coming in the form of you. Lots of fiery energy. You're a symbol of hope. Rediscovering what they had lost with you. Feels like someone who has been through a lot. Playfulness. Daydreaming about you is embodying those feelings that seem long forgotten. I know I keep repeating the same thing over and over, but I'm not getting anything more than that (even when I go back to the literal meaning of the cards) so I pulled some love messages. There's the cards 'twin flame', 'finding myself' and 'still listening'. My interpretation is that daydreaming about you holds a mirror up to themselves which inspires them to look deeper within and figure out what they want and who they want to be. They could also find solace in music, they may have a song or playlist that makes them feel more connected to you.

PILE 3

If you were drawn to pile 2, consider checking out that pile as well too. 333. The number 3 could hold some sort of significance.

Dreaming of an equal. Someone to keep them balanced and bring a new perspective. They could feel as though (or know) some kind of scrutiny is possible, but they spend their time dreaming of overcoming it. There could be cultural differences or for some it's a matter of being in a same-sex relationship or anything that goes against what may be more commonly accepted. If it's of any significance, the red string of fate (two different decks mention it). Power couple vibes. Being able to maintain a sense of youthfulness in the relationship. Someone who won't try to take advantage of them, who'll push them to be better and vice versa, who'll look out for them. Someone to heal with and understand that they are still healing. They could dream of having a child with you or starting a family in whatever format that may look like to both of you. Daydreams of warmth & protection. Giving and receiving. You could possibly meet at a concert or connect over music.

PILE 4

I did a repull to make sure I was reading the cards right (it was stormy) and the same cards came out after reshuffling (minus one card). I feel like this person has been reborn. Who they were is not who they are now (or when you meet them). They could daydream of being divinely guided towards you. Someone spiritual or religious. At the very least finding a connection with something (a concept) greater than them. Daydreams of being guided towards happiness. They had a teardown and rebuild of who they are. They could be from a different location, you could meet when travelling across a large body of water. It feels like they're dreaming of coming in hot. They're paving the way for their happy ending. Take it as you will, but instead of a 'damsel in distress' (regardless of gender, it's just women on the cards depicting forging on) type of story, it's one of those ones where it's like "you know what, I'll save myself and I'll chase after my happy ending". Actually, I get a-spec vibes as well and that this person could be a platonic love or a strong platonic bond. It could even be you respectively. But the energy is one of being inspired and ever-lasting bonds. A new resolve, coming home to oneself, resting in the knowledge that the future is going to be good because you'll make it so.

#quick pick #pick a card #pick a pile #pac reading #tarot reading #cozycottagetarot

[squidwen]

🐙After Hours with Azul

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Synopsis: You spend a lot of time at the Mostro Lounge, and Azul’s starting to wonder why. You’re not some creepy stalker girlfriend, are you? You two might be “official,” but you’re at the Lounge all the time!

However, Azul reckons there’s a reason behind it that’s deeper. More serious. After taking you to his room, the pair of you snuggle up, arms, legs, and tentacles, and Azul’s hearts simply can’t take the real reason behind your frequent visits.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You preferred the Mostro Lounge after-hours. It seemed more like an actual Lounge, with nothing but the cool lights and the final tunes of the piano player on the stage. No one bothered you either. None of the waiters told you to leave. No one even offered to clear your drink and plate away. The staff cleaned their tables, hung up their aprons, and that was that.

Except for Azul.

He got up from the piano and crossed the Lounge over to your booth. Your breath hitched at his cool hand on your shoulder. You always preferred him without gloves. His hands were beautiful; long, slender fingers with a callous on his right middle one from years and years of endless writing.

‘Another evening claimed by my establishment,’ mused Azul.

At last, you moved. His words thawed you enough to stand.

Azul welcomed you into his arms. His other hand sparked against your ribcage as he rubbed circles into your back. Somehow his chilly touch melted you. You became almost gelatinous in his embrace, as if you were the octopus rather than the warm, sweet little human.

‘You’re coming here more often, angelfish,’ Azul said.

‘Naturally. The foods good and the music’s even better.’

‘I’m sure the music is not better.’

You pulled away.

Azul held onto you. ‘Sorry-’

‘You’re still doing it.’

‘It’s a bad habit.’

‘You need to stop thinking you’re not good enough.’

Your kiss on the shell of his ear silenced any protests. Azul shivered with bliss.

Everyone else had already left; there was no point in keeping up airs. Who would you be trying to impress? Azul was stronger than he looked. Although he masqueraded as a human, he still retained most of his cecaelian strength, and he lifted you out of the booth. You felt as though you were floating. You were as weightless as the exotic fish in the giant Lounge fish tank.

Azul tucked you into his chest, one arm under your legs and another under your back. You smelled his cologne; lavender and something that reminded you of the sea. The tips of his bangs tickled your forehead. Together, you slipped out of the Lounge and through the halls of Octavinelle, hiding around corners for the coast to be clear before ploughing on towards Azul’s bedroom.

A snap of the fingers and the door swung open.

A lilac bed, freshly made, beckoned you forward. Azul laid you gently down. The duvet and mattress moulded to your figure, gasping and depressing as you wriggled your shoes off. ‘I can’t believe you had the energy for that!’ you laughed. ‘After playing all night.’

Azul laid down beside you. His hands, warmed by your back and thighs, searched for yours and brought them to his lips. ‘It’s the nature of octopuses to be dextrous, my dear. Three hours of piano playing was nothing but a warmup.’

‘How modest.’

Azul reddened.

You kissed his nose. ‘Tell me more. If you can brag to anyone it would be me. Not that I need to be told about how amazing you are. You just carried me up to the top of Octavinelle as if it was nothing. I bet Jack couldn’t even do that.’

Azul, however, did not bring up anything. It still didn’t feel right to. Not with you. Not yet. He was still so new to this. He had never loved anyone before, and the pair of you had only made your relationship official a few weeks ago. Azul was trying to strike a balance between impressing you, and boasting. He wanted to seem cool, not conceited. You already accepted him for what he looked like… for some reason, but surely there was only so much you could take. You could tolerate ugliness, but vanity?

‘A good businessman never puts all his cards on the table,’ said Azul.

You rolled your eyes. ‘Business talk? Here?’

Shoot, Azul thought. Play it cool. ‘You are in the bedroom of the dorm leader of Octavinelle and the manager of the Mostro Lounge.’

‘I thought I was in my boyfriend’s bedroom.’ You started to pull away again. Azul gripped you tightly. His strong fingers were like suction cups. ‘Come on, Azul,’ you sighed. ‘If you’re a businessman, does that make me a customer? Or some associate? I know this is new to you. It’s new to me too. But just… let yourself be… well, mine. Even if it can only be in this room. I need that.’

You shifted closer to him and snaked your arm under his head. His ear rested in the crook of your elbow, letting your fingers fiddle with his hair. The fedora fell away. His locks were stringy from hours under a hat, but you didn’t mind. It was like his head was a giant snowdrop; the petals stuck together as it tried to bloom after a long winter.

Azul drew closer. The bed creaked.

‘My angelfish,’ he breathed.

You hummed.

‘Why do you stay at the Lounge for so long?’

Your stroking stopped.

Azul tensed. ‘If you don’t want to say then-’

‘No, no. It’s fine. It must seem creepy, like I’m some crazy stalker girlfriend who watches your every move now that we’re together. But it’s not. Seven, it’s not. I just… it’s just a soothing place. Some people like the library. Others like the park. But the Mostro Lounge is perfect for me. I’ve been going there all year just to unwind. You might not have noticed. You’re always so busy.’

‘No other reason?’

It was your turn to tense.

Azul detected it immediately.

Sitting up, his cerulean eyes pierced into you like icicles. He was the businessman again. All the tenderness had been leached out of him. Something was wrong. He knew it. Something he was determined to get to the bottom of. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you being at the Lounge. He loved it. Your presence always made him play better, and he was happy to smuggle you on-the-house desserts whenever he could. But you had been showing up too often, as if you were hiding, or escaping, something.

‘Let’s not have secrets from each other,’ he said.

‘Secrets?’

‘Please, angelfish.’ Azul blinked and his eyes became gentle again. The eyes of a lover; lidded and pleading. To prove that he was being open – and to give you permission to do the same – he lay down beside you again and transformed back into a cecaelia. His skin speckled with lilac until it was completely purple; his legs unravelling into eight black and purple tentacles.

Azul couldn’t meet your eyes as he transformed. It embarrassed him. He felt so grotesque. So hideous. But then, you came to him again, and wrapped your arms around his torso. The feeling faded. Azul took you into his arms.

The tentacles wound around your legs like ribbons around maypoles. Cool and slick; the suction cups kissing your exposed skin, making it prickle with gooseflesh. You stayed still to invite them higher. Azul delighted in the feel of you. You were more detailed when he held you this way. He sensed every inch of you. You were beautiful, and more tentacles came up to bind you.

Around your waist. Around your hips. Around your stomach. With ease, they pulled you in close to Azul. The cecaelia buried your face in his chest. You could hear his three heartbeats. They were fast. You couldn’t help but smile into Azul’s shirt.

‘Are you comfortable, my darling?’ Azul asked.

You nodded, too relaxed for words. Azul’s touch was velvety soft. All your dark bindings were gentle and plush, like a caterpillar wrapped in a chrysalis.

A final tentacle cupped the back of your head. You shivered as the suction cups kissed your scalp. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant, but it brought you out of your comfort just enough to feel like talking again. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m at my best when you’re with me,’ Azul said.

You melted a little more. ‘Same here. And I confess, that’s the reason why.’

‘Why what?’

‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve come on too strong and I’ve spooked you.’

‘No, not at all.’

‘I just…I… you know you’re my best friend.’

Azul’s heartbeats got even faster. ‘A-And you’re mine,’ he breathed. ‘The Leech twins… they’re not the same as you.’

‘The others aren’t the same as you either. Don’t get me wrong, Ace and Deuce are great, but they’re like twins, and Jack and Epel are dedicated to sports, and Sebek’s obsessed with Malleus. I sort of feel like I just touch-base with them, but I spend time with you. And even if it’s not “with” you, just to see you, hear you play, admire who my partner is, even just sit in your Lounge, is enough.’ You mustered the strength to crane your head back and kiss his jaw. ‘I’m millions of miles from home, but I somehow feel there when I’m with you.’

Azul had never heard anything like it. You were so sweet. So kind. No one ever complimented him without wanting his attention, or recognition; without wanting something in return. Octavinelle was full of sychophants, none bigger than the Leech twins, but you… you were as pure as driven snow. You loved every inch of him, inside and out; something Azul had thought was impossible for him to find. To deserve.

His tentacles bundled you up even more, pressing you in close until it was almost uncomfortable. His suction cups kissed you. Thousands of kisses. Small pecks, until the tentacle cupping the back of your head lifted you to Azul’s lips.

Velvet. Smooth. Soft.

When you broke away, you were both breathless, and exhaustion descended upon you. The night had been long; the conversation hard. Azul loosened his grip on you but kept his tentacles in place. He could think of nothing sweeter than to fall asleep to the feeling of you, and you didn’t mind. You had never been so comfortable; so warm and welcome.

With a final kiss, you snuggled into your cecaelia and drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic thump of Azul’s heartbeats.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Author note: Well hey! It’s been a while!

I hope you enjoyed the fic! I had to write an Azul one after being away for so long! He’s by far my fav character, and it was his birthday recently so I think we’re all in Azul-mode atm.

If you liked it, please like, comment, and share.

- Squidwen

#fluffle writes #reader x azul #azul ashengrotto x mc #squidwen #azul ashengrotto x reader #reader x Azul Ashengrotto #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x reader #reader x twisted wonderland #fanfic azul #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #reader insert #octavinelle #cecaelia #octopus

[lovebugism]

omg omg omg I can’t wait for tcar part 9 🥹 I miss eddie spaghetti and peach so much 🥹🥹🥹

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | sunshine, sometimes

summary: the gang searches for peace of mind at lake lemon. after an enlightening conversation with steve, eddie unknowingly stirs up a storm. (17k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader, mentions of past steve harrington / f!reader

tags: experienced!reader, idiots in love, domestic bliss (road trip edition), newly established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, the gang's all here! TW probable typos, swearing, mentions of b*lly h*rgrove and toxic relationships, kissing, heavy petting, fingering, eddie coming in his pants (vol. 3), smut 18+

( PREVIOUS ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You think it’s entirely possible that you made Eddie up in your head.

Sleeping next to you, painted in satin shades of pale pink and milky white, he looks exactly like a dream.

His curls are wild, spread across his face and cotton pillow in a chestnut-colored halo around his head. Soft snores billow from his rosy mouth in heavy, even breaths — a heavenly sound you think could lull you back to sleep all over again. His long lashes flutter against the flushed apple of his cheek, made a gentle strawberry shade from the ardor of his slumber. The soft color splotches the tip of his nose and the plush of his lips.

Eddie’s made of all the prettiest colors you wish you could paint. Maybe then he’d finally see himself the way you do. He possesses an otherworldly kind of beauty — one bordering on religious — something holy people used to sacrifice themselves for.

And here he is. In your bed and on your mouth, like a vivid ruby lipstick stain you’re not rushing to rub out just yet. Or ever, if you had anything to say about it.

“I can feel you staring, weirdo,” Eddie mumbles, slurred and heavy with sleep. The words come out muffled because his face is shoved into the pillow.

You’re not as embarrassed at getting caught as you probably should be. 

You could deny it if you wanted. His eyes are still shut. You’ve got every ounce of plausible deniability to defend yourself with, but for some strange reason, you don’t feel the urge to. He was far too pretty not to be unabashedly examined, like a piece of art you could stare at for ages and find something new in every time.

“Really?” you hum in return, voice as quiet with leftover fatigue as your sleepy smile. “I didn’t know my boyfriend had superpowers.”

The smile that tugs at Eddie’s mouth is absentminded but no less sincere. It’s lopsided and rosy and full of all the love he has for you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of being called your boyfriend. He figures his chest will swell every time he hears the words — as long as they spill from your mouth, anyway.

“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” he teases quietly — eyes still shut, grin still pressed into the pillow.

“I can keep a secret,” you promise in a whisper. Your hand rises from beneath the fluffy comforter to spread across his cheek. Your palm settles warmly at his jaw as your fingers brush a few rogue curls from his forehead. “As long as you give me a kiss for it.”

Eddie’s smile, weighed down by sleep and adoration, only widens at your words. 

His button eyes are swollen as he blinks the haze of sleep from them. It feels a little like his heart has stopped when he’s able to see you clearly. 

It’s like he’s looking down a high-up cliff or staring into the deep abyss of outer space — a warm, empty, and lurching feeling in his chest that only comes from witnessing something so profound.

The profundity in question is you.

It’s your wild hair and puffy cheeks and crooked smile. It’s the way your swollen eyes twinkle with adoration at an ungodly hour of the morning. The way your honey voice seems to match the golden sunrise. You’re an angel in the flesh — a divinely ethereal being wearing his Hellfire tee to sleep in. 

The beauty you are takes him by surprise for all of half a second. It makes him forget how to breathe and makes his brain go all fuzzy. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time every time he looks at you.

“Well, as long as it’ll keep you quiet,” Eddie huffs, feigning annoyance, as he lifts his head off the pillow to settle onto yours. 

His plush lips press against your subtle smile a second later. Your mouths entwine something heavy, like maple syrup or marshmallow fluff — a kiss so full of sleep and distant longing.

But that’s all it is. A kiss. It’s nothing more than an innocuous peck that Eddie stamps upon your mouth. His nose smushes into the side of yours, and he’s gone as quickly as he came. 

Your shut eyes flutter open again. They widen when Eddie ducks down for another sneaking peck. He lingers a few moments longer this time, like he can’t quite get enough of you the same way you can never seem to get enough of him.

Your grin grows. You feel a bit like you’re glittering all over when Eddie settles back onto the mattress. But maybe that’s just the rising sun peeking in flaxen shades from the window — or maybe it’s love sparkling like orange embers in your chest. Maybe it’s both. 

Maybe loving Eddie feels pink and gold like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.

It’s just as easy, anyway.

“Ooh,” you singsong with a smile as you prop yourself on your elbow. “Two for one deal, huh?”

The boy shrugs one shoulder. His leadened lids fall over his chocolate syrup eyes when sleep threatens to pull him under again. He shifts against the mattress to get comfortable, though it’s much harder without you pressed against him.

“I gotta secret identity to protect, sweets. Gotta make sure we keep it under wraps and everything, you know?” The tired boy’s mumbles are followed by a hearty yawn that scrunches his sleep-ridden features.

“Well, you can pry this secret from my cold, dead hands,” you lilt quietly, leaning down to sprinkle a featherlight kiss to his flushed cheek. His skin is warm against your mouth, rosy with a good night’s sleep.

“Well, except for Robin,” you whisper shortly thereafter. “I have to tell Robin.”

Eddie exhales sharply through his nose in place of a laugh.

“And Steve, too. He’ll be mad if I tell Robin and not him.”

“Right,” Eddie scoffs with a tired nod against his pillow.

You can tell he’s trying hard to stay awake for you. He’d done this the night before, too — kept talking to you even though his body was threatening to shut down after a long day of school and road-tripping. You’d called him out on it then, and he confessed that it hurt too much to stop talking to you. He said he’d rather be exhausted than miss you, even for the faintest fraction of a second.

A smile hints at the corners of your lips as you stare down at the boy. You duck down once more to brush a fleeting kiss to the warm apple of his cheek — there and gone again. 

Eddie sighs at the heavenly feeling, then scrunches his features in annoyance when the mattress shifts beneath him.

“Where are you going?” he grouses over the sound of your padding feet and the door creaking open. He’s got one tired eye squinted when he rises to look at you over his shoulder. His untamed curls are as drenched with sleep as the rest of his softly swollen features.

You stand in the doorway and smile back at him. You don’t look nearly as exhausted as he does. That’s only because you spent the better part of the morning ogling at him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

It wouldn’t change anything, anyway.

Slumber looks too good on you. It’s got you glowing like a pink and orange sunrise, grinning like the morning dew has kissed you. It’s a very distinct part of your beauty that took Eddie several days of unabashed staring to understand. You’ve got a far-off kind of quality about you, dreamlike. 

You’re a nymph made of flower petals with unearthly eyes and angelic lips. You’re a swan princess who’s enchanted his imagination. His mind can’t go anywhere without bumping into thoughts of you — like some romantic spell you’ve cast upon him.

Still a bit grumpy with sleep and overcome with yearning, Eddie makes a mental note to add you to a future campaign. What better way to tell someone you love them than by making them your muse, solidifying them in the history of you forever?

“I’m gonna tell everyone that my boyfriend is basically the metalhead equivalent of Clark Kent,” you joke with a crooked smile that flashes your similarly crooked teeth.

The door creaks when it shuts behind you. Eddie’s chest aches with the empty feeling of missing you. The warmth of adoration lingers, however, as though you’d never left at all.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Thankfully, no one had gotten Jason Voorhees-ed while you were sleeping.

You make your rounds about the cabin, peeking into darkened bedrooms and making sure everyone was where you’d left them. You knew Robin hadn’t truly meant her words from the day before, about Ted Bundy or some equivalent creep stalking the woods of Lake Lemon. She’s sincere but in a blatantly irrational sort of way. Sweet but slightly insane. She’s an illogical genius that unintentionally gets in your head.

You’re grateful to find that you hadn’t woken up in the middle of slasher film, however. You’re able to exhale a trembling sigh of relief as you walk into the kitchen.

Steve The Hair Harrington unknowingly keeps you company as you break out the supplies needed to make a couple of teenagers a sufficient breakfast. His soft snores fill the quiet cabin from where he’s sprawled out in the center of the pull-out couch in the living room. He’s twisted in a thin white sheet and gripping a single pillow like his life depends on it.

He used to hold you like that, too. Like you were a buoy in an ocean and the only thing keeping him afloat. He’d cage you in his arms with a grip that only seemed to intensify with his sleep. It felt like being suffocated almost. But in a good way.

The memory is glittering with reminiscence instead of soaking in heartache. 

You don’t miss being with Steve, nor do you miss the person you were when you were with him. You do miss the closeness of him, though — in the simplest, most human way. Also, you just really like taking the piss out of him and all his little idiosyncrasies.

With his sleeping form so near, everything you do feels so much louder in the quiet. The fridge closes too aggressively, the eggs crack too sharply, the cabinets close too harshly. You grimace with every noise you make, checking over your shoulder to make sure Steve hadn’t heard from across the room.

He hadn’t. ‘Cause he tends to sleep like he’s hibernating.

He doesn’t rouse when a humming car crunches against gravel when it pulls into the driveway outside — or when the bowl of pancake batter in your hands clatters to the countertop accordingly.

The milky white concoction sways in the container, splashing in pearly dots onto the gray granite. You’re too distracted to focus on the mess. Your heart starts to race at the appearance of the sudden visitor with the irrational thought that Ted Bundy was strolling up to your doorstep like some kind of offbeat traveling salesman. 

God, you need to stop hanging out with Robin so much. Or watching so many horror movies. Maybe both.

Because it’s only Nancy. 

It’s sweet, beautiful, lithe Nancy Wheeler and her beat-up Station Wagon. 

Her curly hair is cropped at her shoulders, hastily combed through and pinned out of her face with a butterfly clip. Her pretty pink skirt swishes around her knees as she reaches for a leather satchel in the backseat. Her purple and white Emerson College tee is tucked into it, matching the same-colored Converse on her feet.

“Hey,” she greets with a pretty wave and delicate smile when she catches sight of you in the doorway.

“Hi…” you respond, mixed with a breathy sigh of what should be relief. 

Because she isn’t Ted Bundy — or some local Lake Lemon serial killer. She’s far too pretty and far too kind to be either of those. But your heart still thrums something fierce against your ribcage when you look at her. You’re still drenched with ice-cold fear when you know you should be relieved.

But despite your clammy trembling hands, you hold the door open for her.

She winces at the sight of Steve’s sleeping figure on the couch, ocean eyes widening at his freckled back peeking from beneath the thin sheet. Her footsteps become noticeably lighter as you lead her into the kitchen. 

It’s far too big for just the two of you. The open space is filled only with a distant awkwardness and the potent smell of sweet vanilla you’d dropped into the pancake batter.

“Sorry…” Nancy grimaces as she sets her bag on the dining table, as though her company was something she needed to be excused for. Her bushy brows pinch together, and her doe-eyes swim with apology. “I know I was supposed to be here last night…”

You shift your weight on your feet across from her, arms wrapping around yourself for further comfort. She’s just a few feet away from you, but the distance feels cavernous.

“Yeah, is— is everything, you know… okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just— it’s dumb,” Nancy scoffs out a laugh, shrugging off your worry with ease. Her gaze flits to the ceiling. You can see smudged eyeliner around her eyes, like she’s still wearing yesterday’s makeup. “I got carried away with the school paper after school, and I didn’t get home until late, and I… I figured I should just wait until morning to make the drive, you know?

You nod slowly in response — for a couple seconds too long, maybe — as you think of what else to say. “Well, was, uh— was traffic okay, at least?”

“Yeah. It was fine,” she answers and bites back a yawn. “People around here are amazing drivers, you know, so… It was a perfect, anxiety-free three hours.”

Her plush pink lips curl into a smile. 

Yours follow suit, but the breathy laugh that spills from them feels much more forced.

“You’re probably tired, huh?” you wonder, then ramble before she can answer you. “I could get Steve to move upstairs with Robin— or Robin can come down here, and you can take the bed. Unless you wanna share with her, but fair warning, she does kick in her sleep, so…”

A giggle spills from Nancy’s mouth. It’s a soft, bubbly sound that squints the edges of her eyes. Her pointed chin tucks to her chest like she’s trying to hide the gentle grin from you. 

You can’t tell if she finds your babbling amusing or endearing like Eddie does. 

You quickly realize you don’t care — you’re just proud that you’ve made her smile. And, fuck, you can’t even blame Steve for wanting her more than you because look at her. You should hate her, yet you can’t take your eyes off her.

“No, I’m good. We can… deal with all that when everyone wakes up, I guess,” she dismisses with a shake of her head. 

You vaguely catch her eyes darting past you to the tornado of breakfast behind you — a whirlwind of uncooked food, miscellaneous containers, and crumbled napkins. It’s a mess only a gentle, well-meaning child could make. That’s what you feel like most days, anyway, so you guess it kind of fits.

“Do you want help with breakfast?” Nancy wonders when her gaze flits back to you.

You can’t tell if she’s asking to be kind or if she really wants to. You decline either way. “No. You’ve— You’ve been driving all morning.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you affirm with a wavering smile.

Her grin is equally sheepish. She falters, a tad bit awkwardly at first, before mumbling something and heading out the back door to explore.

A trembling sigh of relief shakes through your chest when the sliding glass door swishes shut behind her. 

It gets better over time — the preliminary tension that settles like suffocating humidity between the two of you — but it never gets any easier. A forgive but can’t forget sort of rigidity you can’t quite smooth out.

You get only a few more minutes of uninterrupted solitude after Nancy’s gone. The last bit of peace you’re bound to have all day.

A door clicks open and shut again from down the hallway, followed by the subtle scuff of socked feet against carpet. 

Your eyes widen softly when Dustin appears from around the corner, though you figure you really shouldn’t be surprised. Of course he was the kid that woke up before the rest of his friends. You feel a bit like you should fix him a cup of black coffee while he reads the business section of the newspaper. He’s far more mature than you were at fourteen.

“Oh,” you hum quietly, a soft smile twitching at the edges of your lips. “Morning.”

Dustin’s swollen eyes squint at you. His gaze darts around the room, as wild as the chestnut curls on his head. It’s strange not seeing him in his usual Thinking Cap. He looks a little foreign in his baggy blue Scooby Doo pajama pants and baggier yellow Camp Know-Where tee.

“Where’s Eddie?” he wonders aloud when he turns back to you, like he can’t quite fathom seeing one of you without the other somewhere nearby.

Your chest aches. You don’t know why. 

Well, you do, but you figure it shouldn’t hurt as bad as it does. 

Dustin was Eddie’s friend. He had zero obligation to care about you the same way. He didn’t have to like you past his not-so-subtle admiration for your boyfriend, but it still hurts that he doesn’t think you’re as cool.

“Uh… Still sleeping. I think,” you lilt, voice as high and light as the salty breeze slipping past the slightly ajar backdoor.

“Oh. Okay.” Dustin nods and doesn’t say anything further. He doesn’t seem as weighed down by the silence as you are. He peeks over his shoulder at Steve’s rousing figure on the couch and then at the pots and pans of food on the counter. His tired blue eyes fill with light when they flit at you again. “Can I help?”

He’s suddenly aglow with a boyish sort of enthusiasm. His bushy brows raise and a smile pulls at his face, and you find it dreadfully hard to tell him no.

“Sure. If you want to, but—” You’re about to prattle on and on about how he shouldn’t feel obligated to. That he’s a kid on vacation and can sleep in if he wants. That he shouldn’t have to worry about helping you if he doesn’t really want to.

But he’s already walking to the sink, flipping on the faucet so he can wash his hands.

Your aching heart swells with warmth.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

The rest of your friends wake up one by one.

Mike and El come out shortly after Dustin, the latter already dressed for the day. She’s a ray of sunshine compared to her grumpy boyfriend. His hair is a wild raven halo, and his cheeks are lined with indentions from the sheets. El hangs on his arm in a pair of jean coveralls, sparkling like the cerulean waters outside. 

“Wanna call Hopper?” you ask the blushing girl from where you scramble eggs at the stove.

She nods with her cheek smushed into Mike’s shoulder, eyes wide and sheepish like she’s embarrassed about wanting to talk to her dad. You don’t blame her for it. You tend to call Hopper after most minor inconveniences. 

Dustin mans the kitchen while you help her with the telephone. He’s very meticulous about the cooking, like he’s got flipping pancakes down to a science. He’s too good of a sous-chef for you to get mad at him for stealing from the stack every now and then.

Robin and Max are sitting at the dining table by the time you get back. They’re practically zombies, silent and grumpy, with their freckled features scrunched like they take offense to the early morning.

Lucas is the last of the kids to come out, though a part of you thinks it might’ve been intentional. 

He’s traded his pajamas for day clothes — Hawkins Tigers track pants and a fitted t-shirt. He idles in the kitchen for several long moments with his trembling hands balled into fists. You can tell he wants to sit next to Max. The thought of rejection keeps him from gravitating towards her, though. Instead, he stands at the counter next to Dustin and tries to hide his grieving.

Steve comes second to last — which is strange, because he was the first one there in a sense. The volume in the kitchen grows too loud for him to ignore. When he comes to the begrudging realization that there’s no falling back to sleep, he decides to join the rest of you.

His feet trudge down the hall when he returns from the bathroom. The only remnants of slumber he wears are the sweatpants and wrinkled t-shirt he’d thrown on sometime after waking up. His structured features are seemingly too sharp to be weighed down by fatigue.

“Where are those little shits going?” he wonders in the place of any actual greeting. He eyes Mike and El as they depart through the sliding glass door. His bushy brows scrunch in confusion and distant worry — neither of which ever seem to leave him.

“Probably to talk to Nancy—”

“What?” Steve sputters, wide-eyed and gaped mouth. “Nancy’s— Nancy’s here?”

Your brows pinch at his shock. You scrape fluffy yellow eggs from the skillet into a large bowl, fit to feed a sizable family — yours of which has squeezed like sardines into this cabin. “Well… You did invite her, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…” he trails off, features twisted in puzzlement. His anxious hands prop against his sweatpant-clad waist. “When did she get in?”

“This morning—”

His eyes fly open once more. His head whips over his shoulder, like he might see her standing there, then turns back to gape at you again. “And you didn’t wake me up?”

You scoff a faint laugh at him. “Why would I wake you up?”

“‘Cause he’s in love with her,” Dustin answers for him, mouth full of the pancake he grips in his right hand. “Obviously.”

“Shut up,” Steve squints at him with all the annoyance of an older sibling despite having been an only child all his life. His irked features relax when his cinnamon gaze flits to you. “Where is she now?”

“Uh… She went for a walk a while ago,” you answer absentmindedly, as though she hadn’t been on your mind the whole time. “I think she’s sitting out by the beach waiting for everyone to get up now, though.”

You and Steve share similarly narrowed eyes when you look out the kitchen window. The brunette girl sits at the square table outside the cabin. You can only see the profile of her pointed features as she smiles up at her younger brother and his girlfriend — a look so full of annoyance it can only be love.

“Maybe take it down a few notches before you try to talk to her, alright, Stevie?” Robin teases from the dining table.

“Yeah,” Lucas lilts with a slow nod, obviously playful in his dogpiling. He leans against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, trying hard not to smile too wide. “You look a little crazy right now, man.”

“It’s only ‘cause you little shits drive me crazy,” Steve defends in a monotone.

“Go tell her breakfast is almost done,” you advise with a sincere smile, though your eyes sparkle with mischief. “You can use that as an excuse to talk to her instead of whatever bullshit you were about to make up.”

Steve nods with a flat face. “Thanks, Peach.”

Dustin and Lucas help you transport the containers of food to the rectangle dining table — pancakes, eggs, sausage, and only halfway stale biscuits. Basically whatever leftover groceries you could find in the cupboards and the fridge.

Steve is too busy idling in one place to bother helping. With his eyes trained on the sliding glass door, it’s too apparent that he’s in his own head. He’s trying hard to work up the courage to talk to a girl he’s known for years now. 

As you sit in your seat at the table — beside Robin, across from Max, with a spare chair open for Eddie on your other side — you watch the fidgeting boy from over your shoulder. His pointed features harden slightly with his newfound bravery, his chest puffing with a wavering breath in. You watch him take a firm step towards the door, but he’s stopped in place by three bodies already walking towards it.

Nancy was already on her way back, with Mike and El at her side. Steve had been too late  — too doubtful of himself, too frightened of the pushed-away problems he’d caused. He’s forced to share awkward, trembling smiles with his first love and not a thing more. 

You feel his heartache as if it were your own.

Eddie’s footsteps stomp, stomp, stomp down the spiral staircase when he finally comes down.

Your heart warms at the very sight of him, as though you were looking at the rest of your life in the flesh — wild hair, swollen eyes, wrinkled t-shirt, and all. It’s too early to smile as wide as you do.

“Morning, Eds,” you greet, because everyone’s too busy stuffing their faces or writhing in unrequited love to do it for you.

His lips curl into a soft smile, weighed down by fatigue but rosy with his love for you. The pink expression grows when he sees the full table and the seat you left open for him. “Morning, sweetheart,” he lilts in response.

“How convenient,” Dustin squints from the head of the table, adjacent to Lucas and Eddie’s vacant seat. He’s got scrambled egg clinging to the side of his mouth as he chastises, “You show up right when breakfast is done.”

“Sorry, Dusty Bun,” Eddie apologizes with a teasing inflection that would imply that he’s not actually sorry. His chair scrapes against the kitchen tile when he pulls it out from under the table. “It’s not my fault I have impeccable timing.”

Your eyes dart to the boy standing beside you. They dance across his sleep-ridden features as your lips quirk in a cheeky half-smile. 

You know better than anyone that he’s only ever late to everything. The only time you can count on him being early is if there’s a Hellfire campaign or when he’s coming in his jeans. 

Eddie grows sheepish with the same understanding. His cheeks flush with a poorly hidden smirk as he sits down next to you. “Don’t say anything, Peach,” he mutters quietly to you.

The table, now sufficiently full, seems to thrum with life. Whether they’re picking at their food like Steve and Lucas, or stuffing their faces like Dustin and Robin, you can’t help but smile softly at each of them. 

They feel like family — like you’ve upped and carried your home with you three hours away. You’d forgotten what not being alone felt like before now. Your chest swells with a newfound life you didn’t even know you were missing.

“Uh, did everyone pack a bathing suit?” you wonder aloud with a bright smile on your face, a measly question to fill the silence and the sound of silverware against porcelain plates.

Everyone nods and hums soft “yeah”’s with their mouths full — except for Eddie. 

The boy beside you stills with his fork in front of his mouth. His dark eyes go wide as he looks over at you. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters in the place of an answer. “I was supposed to pack a bathing suit?”

You find his forgetful disposition rather endearing. You can too easily imagine him standing in the middle of his bedroom, mouthing everything you told him to pack while counting them on his fingers. You can see his brows furrowing with a distant pout while he asks himself “what the hell am I forgetting?”

You’re too in love to be annoyed with him — or ill-prepared.

“I packed trunks for you. It’s okay,” you murmur in response, voice as quiet as the smile you look at him with.

Eddie’s chest aches. It’s too warm to be his heart breaking — too fluffy and sticky and sweet. It’s a burning sort of pain that can only be pure, unadulterated love. 

“God, you are the woman of my dreams, baby,” he confesses lowly, mostly to himself.

You only hear the words leave his mouth because he’s leaning in to kiss you. You don’t meet him halfway, but instead grin softly at his efforts, which you know are bound to be interrupted.  

“Hey!” Dustin scolds through the bite of biscuit in his mouth. “No kissing at the table!”

Robin licks syrup from the corner of her mouth, then concurs through her pancakes, “Yeah. You wanna make everybody here puke or what?”

“Or what,” you answer the rhetorical question, meeting her deadpanned expression with a smile. You tilt your head to your shoulder and scrunch your nose. “Preferably, at least.”

“How about everyone just keep their hands to themselves, yeah?” Steve advises in a monotone. His honey eyes flit around the table with a significant focus on you and Eddie and Mike and El. He waves his fork in his hand, still piercing the cooled piece of scrambled egg he hasn’t eaten yet. “How about that?”

“Okay, Hopper,” you scoff to yourself.

El snorts a quiet laugh from across the table, on Max’s other side.

Steve flashes you an annoyed glance from across Robin sitting between the two of you. Despite his monotoned features, his eyes sparkle with an adoration for you he couldn’t conceal if he wanted to.

He tries to, anyway. 

“Bite me,” he grumbles with narrowed eyes.

Eddie huffs dramatically from beside you. The sound gets your attention — makes you turn your head to look at him again — which is all he really wanted to do, anyway.

“Stop flirting!” the boy grumbles, wide-eyed and chewing through his mouthful. “I’m sitting right here!”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Eddie Munson was never supposed to believe in love at first sight. That stuff was for children, chick flicks, and over-played ballads — not metalheads who’ve never been loved before and have had to improvise all their awkward tenderness accordingly.

But then he met you. And he didn’t love you then, but he knew something was different. Off. Metamorphosing, even. 

It was different from love — whatever strange, foreign thing he was feeling way back when. It didn’t hurt nearly as much, and it didn’t feel like every single one of his atoms had been set ablaze. It was softer, warmer, a gentle familiarity in a stranger who just wanted to get high.

You sat down in front of him on that rotted park bench in the middle of the woods, and it felt like he was staring the rest of his life in the face. There was no falling head over heels like all the songs on the radio said there’d be, but rather an “Oh, hi, it’s you. I hope it’s always gonna be you.”

He feels that foreign, fluffy feeling in his chest even now as he stands on the shore in a pair of trunks you bought because you knew he’d forget his. He watches you wade into the cerulean sea with a lily sort of hesitance. You’re so much smaller than the wide-open, but he loves you so much you seem swallow it all whole anyway. 

You’re a pretty little thing in a canary yellow bikini, sunshine incarnate. Your thighs are round and full. The pudge of your stomach is soft and tender. The scarred marks on your back and shoulders are like so many little kisses, each of which he longs to give you in return.

You possess an intimidating sort of beauty, one that Eddie found easier to admire from afar. You were entirely too captivating — warm and gentle like a summer rain dying to be danced in.

“Stop being such a baby!” Robin calls from further in the water. Her sandy-colored hair is a darker shade from the salty sea and pushed back over her forehead and ears. 

Her chapped lips curl into a pink smile as she looks up at you. Not even she could hide her admiration for your fantastical, demoniacal beauty.

“The water’s not even that bad!” the girl continues in half-hearted taunts. “Just run in!”

“It’s cold!” you insist, shivering when a brutal breeze brushes by. You tense and tighten the grip you have on yourself. Your arms are crossed over your chest in a feeble shield that does little to protect you from the water nipping at your ankles.

Robin cackles at your wincing.

Eddie might’ve defended you if he wasn’t so lost in the eternal blue of you, more infinite than the water you stand in or the sky you idle beneath. 

You look so soft in the golden sunlight, so diabolically angelic. Lithe, unholy, yet pure all the same. Built for sin but looking just like Heaven.

Eddie Munson wasn’t supposed to fall in love. He wasn’t even looking for it until it tripped him, ate him up, and spat him out. The universe does whatever the universe wants sometimes, he figures, and if you can’t laugh at their stupid jokes, then that’s on you.

“Holy shit…” Eddie mumbles as the realization pierces him like a dull needle between his ribcage. That searing, subtle feeling of being in love. 

It’s frightening more than it is anything, really — the understanding that you’re diving into something that could ruin you, something you’re going to let ruin you. There’s nothing but a thin line between love and horror.

“Huh?” Steve hums with a cartoonishly scrunched nose and furrow to his brow.

He was the only one close enough to hear him. Everyone else was separate but still near, using every inch of their reserved space. 

Nancy’s reading a book in one of the lounge chairs with El and Max sunbathing on towels close by. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are roughhousing in the water — no doubt irking Steve and his lifeguard-esque spidey senses. Robin, meanwhile, was still coaxing you inside.

Eddie’s head snaps in Steve’s direction. He squints through the wisps of gray smoke rising from the grill. “Huh?” he repeats like the idiot he is.

“You said something.” The brunette boy responds. Not a question, but a statement of fact.

“No, I wasn’t,” Eddie sasses back despite having been caught red-handed. He shrugs and crosses his pale arms over his chest. “I was just… I was just talking to myself.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause that’s not weird or anything.”

Eddie bites back a too-harsh jeer. He watches Steve flip a steaming burger on the tiny grill in front of him with a floundering sort of finesse. He scoffs out a laugh. “Making fun of me isn’t gonna compensate for you having absolutely no idea what you’re doing over there, you know?”

“How hard can it be?” Steve wonders, bouncing his shoulders and gesturing with the spatula in his hand. “They’re burgers. Just flip ‘em before the burn, and they’re golden— well, not golden, but… you get it.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the boy’s blind optimism. Steve’s got all the trappings of a rich kid who never had a fend for yourself night where dinner was just chocolate milk, dry cereal, and pizza rolls. “I thought growing up in the suburbs, you would’ve perfected the art of grilling by now.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly have anyone around that often to teach me, so…”

Steve isn’t exactly playing the woe is me card. He’s just stating a fact that most everyone in Hawkins seems to know by now. It blows the wind out of Eddie’s sails, anyway. 

It’s hard to understand sometimes that Steve’s got his own thing going on — his own secrets with his own trauma he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. Eddie spent his whole life thinking that if he was richer, or if his house was bigger, or if the kids at school liked him more, he might’ve been happier growing up. 

Steve Harrington is living proof that that’s not always true.

Eddie walks a few steps closer to the grill. The smell of smoke and cooked meat pervade him instantaneously. He snatches the spatula from Steve’s hand, who’s too off guard to dodge him. 

His frizzy curls bunch at his shoulders when he tilts his head to the side, flashing the brunette boy a sickly sweet smile. “Let the trailer trash show ya how it’s done, Stevie.”

“First of all, don’t call me that,” he retorts with a flat face, golden biceps crossed tight over the chest of his fitted tee. “And second of all, what the hell do you know about cooking?”

“When you grow up in a trailer park, you know how to make at least two things by the time you’re seven-years-old — pizza rolls in the oven and burgers on the grill.”

Steve’s honey eyes narrow. “I don’t trust you not to poison us, Munson.”

“What? You think I’m gonna poison a bunch of kids and my girlfriend? That’s, like, the lowest of the low,” Eddie defends with bubbly laughter sputtering from his mouth. He flips a smashed burger and lets it sizzle over the low flame before pointing the spatula in Steve’s direction. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eye. “But you, Harrington? You should definitely be worried.”

“…Girlfriend, huh?” 

Eddie, visibly surprised by the lack of a comeback, glances over his shoulder at the boy. His fleetingly puzzled gaze gives way to a teasing pink grin. “Yeah… Jealous?” 

It was a joke, but Steve starts to stutter over himself like he’s guilty of something. “What? No,” he argues between forced laughter. “Why would you— Why would you even say that?”

“‘Cause I actually had the balls to ask out the girl I like, and you’ve been ogling at Nancy for an hour trying to figure out how to talk to her without coming off like a total creep.”

“That’s not… I wasn’t doing that.”

Eddie shrugs. “Okay.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I said okay!”

“Jeez…” Steve concedes with a dramatic huff. “I have no idea what Peach sees in you, ya know?”

“Me neither, honestly,” Eddie confesses with a distant smile, grinning at the grill like he can see you in the wisps of thick smoke. “I always thought it was my strong arms and sparkling personality.” 

“See, that’s what I’m talking about! You can’t be serious about anything!”

“I can be serious about some things.”

“Yeah?” Steve muses with raised brows and a smile that says otherwise. “Like what?”

There’s a million stupid jokes Eddie could make just to piss him off all the more. He swallows them all down in place of something more real. “I don’t know… Peach is pretty cool, I guess… Don’t really wanna fuck that up…”

Steve nods, proud of the answer he wasn’t expecting. “Good. Don’t.”

“And what would you do if I did, tough guy?” Eddie jokes, narrowing his eyes at the boy beside him. “Beat me up?”

He answers without missing a beat. “Yeah.”

“You don’t exactly have the best track record for that. I’m pretty sure you’re on a world-record losing streak, actually.”

“I don’t have to win,” Steve assures with a strange sort of sternness to his words. 

Eddie is visibly shocked by the sudden seriousness, wide-eyed and confused. 

The brunette boy sighs before explaining. “That time I got into that stupid fight with Hargrove, it wasn’t about trying to beat him, you know? I was trying to— I don’t know— I was trying to… keep him from hurting the people I cared about, I guess.”

“Peach?” Eddie presses with furrowed brows.

Steve shoots him a dumbfounded look, confused by the confusion. “She didn’t tell you about that?”

“...No?”

“Then, uh… Never mind.”

Steve closes in on himself all over again — an impenetrable brick wall with abs and a chiseled jawline. Eddie feels so suddenly left out, like there was some secret everyone was in on but him. He abandons the grill entirely. 

“Nope. No way. You have to tell me now.”

“I don’t have to tell you shit, Munson,” Steve scoffs, side-stepping the wild-haired boy and taking his place in front of the grill. The burgers are cooked through now, perfectly seared and smoky. He plates them all like he wasn’t on track to burning them. Eddie lets him do it.

“I swear to god, I will give you food poisoning on purpose, Harrington—”

“It’s not my story to tell, alright?” Steve interjects the half-hearted threat.

“Well, I mean, it sorta is because you were just about to tell it, so…”

The brunette grumbles something under his breath like a rolling storm cloud.

You and Robin watch the encounter from afar, both of you someways from shore. Now submerged to your shoulders in the sapphire water, you’re not nearly as cold as when you first stepped in. It feels as soft as silk now, sparkling around you like diamonds every time you kick your feet to keep yourself afloat.

A smile quirks at your mouth at the sight of the bantering boys — one you used to love and one you think you’ll love forever.

They’re complete and utter opposites of each other. One golden, one pale. One broad, one lean. One with trimmed honey locks that shine golden in the sun, and one with long curls so dark they seem to reject all light entirely. 

They both wear deadpanned looks of utter annoyance on their features, having no idea how close they’re standing to each other.

“The sexual tension is ripe between those two,” you confess to Robin, though it’s mostly for yourself.

“Think they’re gonna kiss?” the brunette girl jokes as she blinks salt water from her eyes.

“I don’t know… They might…” you observe quietly, squinting in the distance in a feeble attempt to read their lips. The conversation seems heated — well, as heated as it gets between two boys who think they’re better off as enemies. 

You long to understand what they’re saying and mourn the fact that you don’t.

“Bet I can get them to kiss by the end of the night, though,” you answer more finally and with a glint to your eye — a result of your looming mischief rather than the glittering sun above you.

“Please, don’t say it…” Robin grimaces.

“Truth or dare,” you singsong with a beaming grin.

The girl makes a pained sound at your words. She bubbles her freckled cheeks and squeezes her eyes shut tight. She ducks herself beneath the water in attempts to hide there, knowing there are some things you just can’t run from.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You hold onto your love for Eddie like so many flowers in your hand. 

It’s a collection of wild things — honeyed daffodils, fluffy white daisies, and pretty pastel forget-me-nots. Their vivid green stems feel like stripes of hardened silk in your palm. 

Maybe you’ll shape them into a crown later, place them on top of your lover’s wild curls the next time you see him. You hope that isn’t too long now.

Max was the one that wanted to go on a hike. Upon the other boys’ insistence of tagging along, she spat like venom in return — “No boys allowed.” And, quite frankly, none of you were in any position to deny Maxine Mayfield of anything.

Robin hadn’t even wanted to go until that moment. She complained she was too tired after a day in the water to spend an evening in the woods. The thought of making fun of Steve seemingly cured her. 

“Yeah,” she lilted with a smile, voice raspy from hours of nonstop laughter. She slid a cap over her drying locks, leaving it backwards and lazy on her head. She bounced her brows and walked backwards behind the group of you. “Go on your own hike, Stevie.”

“We will!” Steve argued in return, like a child not easily left behind.

You can’t be sure of what they’re up to now. Nothing, maybe, or perhaps everything. You just hope Eddie’s missing you as much as you’re missing him — innocently, gently, childishly. 

Maybe he’s seeing your face in the crystalline waves of the sea like you’re seeing his face in the satin petals of the flowers in your hand.

“Having fun?” you ask Max over the subtle crunch, crunch, crunch of grass and leaves and twigs beneath your feet. 

The redhead’s eyes widen at the suddenness of your presence — or rather, how slow she’d been to register it. Noticing her languishing stride, she puts more pep in her step. 

“Tons,” she huffs.

You become a silent observer of Max Mayfield for a moment. You blink at the girl beside you —  with pretty red plaits down her back and pale shoulders peeking from her tank top — and try to make sense of her. It’s an impossible task.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,” you confess with a quiet laugh.

“I’m not,” she affirms with her own scoffed-out chuckle. She tucks a rouge wisp of amber hair behind her ear and averts her gaze to her beat-up sneakers. “It’s… actually been kinda fun so far.”

With a blooming feeling of relief and slight accomplishment, you nod in response. “Good.”

“I just wish the boys weren’t here, though,” she admits with a distant girlishness, kicking a rock with the tip of her shoe. It clunk, clunk, clunks down the hill. She screws her freckled face. “They’re making it all… weird.”

“Weird how?” you press gently. 

You don’t want to push her so hard she closes up again, but you don’t want to stay so quiet she thinks you don’t care. It’s tricky work, getting close to Max Mayfield — like digging through a brick wall with a plastic spoon.

“Weird as in… I don’t know— they’re making it something it’s not supposed to be, you know? Like, Dustin is cool, but that’s because his girlfriend just dumped him and everything,” the girl rambles with a shrug. She lifts her arm to duck beneath a low-hanging branch, scraping her calloused palm against the wood as she goes. 

You’ll hear a low thud moments later when Robin smacks her forehead against it. She’d been too busy explaining how to tell the difference between poisonous and nonpoisonous mushrooms to Nancy and El — the former only half as enthused as the latter.

“El and Mike are always sneaking off to suck face, and Steve and Eddie keep ogling at you like they’ve never seen a girl before, and Lucas won’t stop asking me if something’s wrong, and—”

“He’s just trying to check up on you,” you interject gently, letting the wound-up girl take a much-needed breath.

“Yeah, well, it’s annoying,” she grumbles like a thundering rain cloud. “I’m trying to forget my problems, not talk about them.”

And, honestly, you think she might be onto something. Teenage girls are basically tiny pessimistic philosophers — your problems don’t exist if you don’t look at them, she tells you in essence. The logic is cynically sound to an unhealthy degree. It’s a poison apple you’ve plucked from the tree and eaten whole once.

“You gotta talk about them eventually, Max,” you tell her. Not because you have, but rather because you haven’t, and you’ve seen where that’s gotten you.

Max stops in her tracks. She turns ninety degrees to glare at you — arms crossed over her chest, bushy brows quirked like the right side of her lips. She looks bitterly amused at your words. 

You cower beneath her icy blue stare. You know you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Oh, yeah? Like you’re talking about them, too?” she sasses with all her practiced teenaged apathy.

You falter. “Yeah, well… Don’t do what I do, alright? Do what I say.”

Max scoffs. It sounds almost like genuine laughter in its curtness, as though it were truly sincere. She shakes her head with a cynical smile. “Face it— we’re both hopeless…”

Her words leave you stunned, as though she’d pierced you with the poison tip of them. There’s an edge to them that cuts you and leaves you bleeding as she walks on without you. The wind brushes your exposed skin, a reminder that the world is still going even though it feels like it’s frozen still. 

Robin and El walk by you a moment later. The former rubs her aching forehead over the brim of the cap on her head. The latter is elbow-deep in a drawstring bag looking for a bandaid to give her. 

Nancy, either poetically or cruelly, is the one who notices the splintered ache you are.

She smiles with her pretty pink lips and blinks at you with her stone-blue eyes. She’s as pretty as she ever was — with her bare, sun-kissed face and oversized cardigan pushed up to her elbows. It’s hard to admonish someone who looks as sweet as she does. 

Her attention alone is enough to heal you, like a dog licking a weeping wound. You hate her as much as you worship her. The loathing feels religious.

“Who are those for?” she questions innocently, motioning to the flowers in the limp hand hanging at your side.

“Oh, uh, they’re— they’re for Eddie,” you sputter in a mumble, suddenly aflame with embarrassment. You turn your red-hot cheeks away from her and look at everything but the girl in front of you. “It’s… It’s stupid…”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s sweet,” she disagrees, grinning so sincerely it scrunches the sloped bridge of her nose.

“I don’t know, I just… I felt a little bad about leaving him behind, so…”

“He did look a little like a sad puppy when we left,” Nancy confesses in a soft giggle.

You roll your eyes despite the lovesick smile on your face. “He always looks like that when he doesn’t get his way.”

“He really likes you. I can tell.”

Your heart lurches at her words. 

“What the hell do you know about him?” is first fleeting thought that scorches your mind. “He isn’t yours. You don’t get to know him.” 

The misplaced anger is raging crimson, vivid enough to taste. Or perhaps that’s just the metallic tang of your blood as you bite your tongue.

Your rage is engraved into your bones at this point. 

It isn’t fair, not to either of you, so you swallow it down.

“You think so?” you wonder instead.

“Oh. Totally,” she scoffs like she’s never been surer of anything in her life. 

Her sneakers scuff against the rough terrain of Lake Lemon as she starts walking again, towards the sound of trickling water. You follow behind her on instinct and watch her angled profile flit to the blue sky above you. Gray clouds start to gather in the distance, concealed by the green of towering trees. 

“The way he looks at you… It’s really sweet.”

“Bet it makes you miss Jonathan, huh?”

“I always miss him,” she answers without missing a beat, though she seems so suddenly forlorn. “Even though I know I’m not really supposed to.”

“What do you mean?” you press with pinched brows.

She tilts her head and looks at you beneath her lashes. “We, um… We broke up, actually.”

“Oh. Shit,” you stutter, surprising even yourself because you hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. It makes you that much more embarrassed at yourself. “I— I’m sorry. I didn’t— shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” Nancy assures kindly, giggling and bringing you at ease again. She smiles so softly, like she isn’t hurt by it all — by what you’ve said or what she left behind in Jonathan. 

You squint at her with a question on your tongue. How can you seem so happy after having lost a piece of yourself? you want so desperately to ask. How has that not ruined you entirely?

She sighs, still with a reminiscent smile. “I haven’t really… you know, talked about it, so…”

“Are you…” you start, but trail off again. Your head whips from her to the rocky trail you descend down, trying to keep focused without tripping over yourself in front of her. God knows you’ve done that enough for a lifetime. “Are you okay?”

Nancy thinks on your words more than you expected her to. “Uh, yeah. I think so. I mean— I guess that’s what this trip is about, you know? Trying to be okay again.”

You nod in response. You figure that’s why you ultimately asked Max to tag along in the first place, and why her friends had decided to join — those heartbroken and otherwise. 

“Sorry about that, by the way,” Nancy follows quickly with wet eyes and pinched-together brows. She’s waiting for you to condemn her, though you’re not entirely sure why.

“For… what?”

“You know, not telling you I was coming and… everything.” 

You wonder if she truly does mean everything or if it’s just a figure of speech. Nancy has a world of things to say sorry to you for — she knows this, most barbarically so.

“Steve told me it was normally a him, you, and Robin thing. He said you wouldn’t be upset about it or anything, but I feel like… I don’t know… like I’ve intruded or something?”

“No,” you assure almost instantly because you know what non-belonging feels like. You don’t want it to eat away at her like it did you. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” the girl presses with a twinkle in her eye.

“Totally.”

She exhales a sharp chuckle through her nose. It’s almost a sigh of relief — like your words have removed a hulking weight from her bony chest. “I was so scared things were gonna be…”

“Weird?” you finish for her when she trails off.

Her sheepish smile matches your own. She nods. “Yeah.”

“That was forever ago,” you shrug, repeating the words you’ve been telling yourself for ages now. It made everything much easier to stomach. You found it much safer not to feel any of it at all — to keep the hurt from touching you entirely.

Nancy nods. Her words leave her mouth, soft like a song and kissed by sorrow. “I know, but… Things were…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t have to. 

You were there for all of it. Most of the bloodshed was yours in the end.

“Yeah,” you huff so deeply it deflates your tightening chest.

“It was all just bullshit, you know?” Nancy says, shaking her head like she’s detested by the memory. “Steve shouldn’t have done what he did, but… It wasn’t like I was raring to stop him.”

“It wasn’t your job. You didn’t know me— you never had to… defend me or whatever.”

“I know, but… I think maybe I should have.”

The two of you stop in place and share a look of distant longing. Not the kind you often give Eddie — not the kind full of puppy love — but rather one of acute understanding. 

She didn’t know you, and you didn’t know her. You thought it was better off that way. Her presence was so often forced against your will. Like Pavlov’s Dog, you knew she only ever came with your inevitable heartache. Steve drifted to her like she had her own gravitational pull. He only came back to you when she was gone.

Jaded by heartache, you learned to hate her. The wrath ate away at you accordingly. And here she was — all your anger in the flesh — extending an olive branch and trying to make you whole again.

“Whoa…” you hear Robin croon lowly in the distance. 

Your attention leaves the piercing moment and darts over to her. She stands between El and Max in front of a leaning willow. She parts the weeping leaves with the palm of her hand and marvels at something further in the juniper you can’t see. 

You give Nancy a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes — too weighed down by the heavy moment — but it isn’t any less sincere. You walk away from her and towards the three others. It takes her a moment or more to follow you.

Past the swaying willow is a shrouded cove. The clear water is kissed by streams of sunlight poking through the fluttering leaves. It possesses a hearty smell of rain and wet grass, the very breath of spring. 

It’s a corner of the world that feels so pure, so untouched by the rest of the world. You can hear words hidden in the rippling water — “Swim with me,” it calls to you. “Let me cleanse you. Let me save you.” 

“Sweet…” Max hums to herself, apathetic as ever, though utterly unable to tear her eyes from the sight before her.

El nods, similarly mesmerized. “Yeah. Sweet.”

Robin turns to you, smirking all cool in her backwards cap and baggy jeans and thumped forehead. She bounces her brows and beams. “Bet the boys haven’t found anything this cool.”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

“Hey, look!” Dustin shouts to the others, eyes squinted with the intensity of his grin. He holds up a shining red rock, made smooth from the water rolling over his feet. “I’m pretty sure it’s a gemstone! Like, a ruby or something!”

He’s met with several unenthused gazes from the rest of the boys on shore. 

Mike squints at him from where he sits next to Lucas in the sand, both of them equally mopey without their girls to bring them back to life. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s just a rock,” the raven-haired boy monotones.

Dustin’s smile washes away like the ebbing tide at his ankles. He looks back at the weighty thing in his hand and realizes that he doesn’t actually know the difference. “Oh…”

“What do you think the girls are doing right now?” Lucas wonders aloud. He can’t go more than five minutes without bringing them up, which Dustin has bitterly observed a number of times. 

He’s more worried about Max than anything, about her eagerness to get away from the boys — from him. He doesn’t know what he could’ve done so wrong to make her pull away like she has. His chest aches with the uncertainty.

“Talking about us, probably,” Mike answers.

“That’s a little sexist, Mike,” Dustin scolds as he walks back on shore, kicking up white sand behind him as he goes.

“What do you think they’re doing then?”

“Talking about you,” the curly-haired boy retorts with narrowed eyes. “‘Cause you’re a dick.”

Mike squints an eye as he looks up at him, shielding his vision from the white sun. He flips the boy off with a pale, bony finger.

Eddie watches from a distance. He stands beside Steve in front of the bubbling white waves, though it’s not really by choice. He’d much rather be standing next to you. He searches for you in the pearly waves and weeps because nothing compares to the real thing.  

“Well, why don’t we just find out?” he offers with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

“Uh, because they said no boys allowed,” Steve answers like it’s obvious.

Eddie meets the boy’s furrowed brows with jettisoned ones hidden behind curly bangs. “…Okay?”

“And, I don’t know— I kinda don’t wanna get my face ripped off.”

“And what would poor Steve Harrington do without his pretty little face?” the wild-haired boy singsongs in response, face scrunched in feigned sympathy.

Steve squints. “You know what? Please, leave. I encourage it, actually.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his head to his shoulder. He blinks at the boy beside him with glittering chocolate eyes that match the frizzy curls billowing in the breeze. “But then who would I annoy?”

“I don’t know. Your girlfriend, maybe,” Steve responds in a monotone, grunting softly as he bends down to pick up a handful of rocks from shore. He flicks his wrist to skip them across the water. It becomes quickly apparent that he’s never done it before. Each pebble plops hopelessly into the salty sea. “Anyone but me, preferably.”

“But you can’t break up with me, so… that’s an obvious bonus.”

“Jesus Christ…” Steve mumbles within an annoyed exhale. “You are the most insufferable person on the planet, you know that, right?”

“Tell me what happened with Billy, and I’ll leave,” Eddie challenges with narrowed eyes.

It’s too good a proposition not to give any thought to. Steve thinks about it for a beat, then shakes his head and turns away. “Yeah, no,” he concludes, skipping another rock that sinks to the bottom almost immediately.

“Why?”

“’Cause you annoying the shit outta me now is nothing compared to what Peach’ll do if she finds out I told you.”

“And what’s that?”

Steve shrugs. “…Be mad at me?”

Eddie scoffs and crosses his pale arms over his chest. “And that would just be… inconceivable, right?”

“I spent enough time pissing her off.”

“What’d you even do, anyway? Or is that another secret everyone seems to know but me?”

Steve shoots him another bitter side-eye. He tosses out another pebble. It bounces on the water once and then disappears beneath the surface. “I think these are questions for your girlfriend, Munson.”

“No, these are questions for bros, Harrington,” Eddie jokes, shoving the boy on his shoulder. His touch is more aggressive than he realizes and it makes the disgruntled brunette stumble slightly to the side. “Isn’t this the sort of things bros talk about?”

“Oh, my god…” Steve mutters to himself, shaking his head and wondering how he got here. What was supposed to be a trip with you and Robin has turned into him babysitting with Eddie fucking Munson.

“Am I not bro enough for you, Harrington?”

“That word has lost all meaning now—”

“C’mon, just tell me, man,” Eddie pleads with a newfound seriousness. “Every time I almost get something outta her, she just— she clams up, you know? I love her and everything, but fuck— it feels like she only lets me know her so much. It’s agony sometimes, dude.”

Steve doesn’t mean to, but he melts.

Maybe it’s the foreign emotion he’s getting from the local freak, or maybe it’s the confession that’s unknowingly slipped from his lips. 

He sighs. Then shrugs. “It was a long time ago. And I was a douchebag.”

Eddie snorts. “Figures.”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” Steve bites. 

Eddie curls his lips around his teeth, puts his mouth in a tight line, and stays silent. 

The brunette boy continues. “I liked her and everything, but I also liked Nancy, you know? I really liked Nancy. I mean, Peach was a lotta fun, but Nance— she was the kinda girl you wanted to settle down with.”

Eddie feels his chest tighten, and the confession’s only just started. 

You were fun. The most fun he’s had in his life. He’d kill to settle down with you, to have an entire future of fun. There was never any but with you — I love you, but it’d be a bad look to settle down with the town slut. Eddie wants all of you, the good and what everyone else has collectively decided is “bad.” 

He loves the sound of your laughter as much as he loves the sound of your moans. 

He wants a lifetime full of both.

“—So every time Nancy broke up with me, I’d go back to Peach. And I wouldn’t tell her about… about any of it. You know, that I still wanted to be with Nancy and everything. And that’s… I think that’s the worst part about it. ‘Cause she thought there was a chance we would get together, you know? And I wanted her to think that, ‘cause I wanted her to always be there when I was— when I needed her…”

Steve squints off into the blue — where the darker-colored water meets a lighter-colored sky. The white sun casts harsh shadows on his already chiseled features. His face scrunches into something sharper, whetted edges of held-back emotion.

“A part of me knew the only reason Peach stuck around was because she thought I’d finally come to my senses and ask her out, you know? But I was… so far gone for Nancy back then it’s not even funny,” the boy confesses. He exhales a curt, cynical chuckle from his nose and shakes his head at himself. 

“I knew I was gonna keep chasing after Nance, but I couldn’t let Peach know that because I didn’t wanna be... I don’t know… alone, I guess? I needed someone to go to when my heart got broken., you know? But when I went back to Nancy— over and over and over again— it’s like… where’d Peach go? Who did— Who did she have to turn to, you know?”

Silence rolls in like the whispering breeze. It settles heavy like the gray rain clouds on the horizon.

Steve sighs like a strangling hand has finally let go of his throat. Like he can finally breathe again after saying all that out loud for the first time. Beside Eddie, the boy stands golden, grieving, and utterly changed. Steve towers over his old self in the memories he wishes he could get rid of and mourns the people he can’t un-hurt.

And it fucking sucks. 

What he did to you sucks. The person he used to be sucks. And it sucks that he’s changed too much to hate now. Where is Eddie supposed to put all the anger simmering in his chest and scratching at the back of his throat?

“And, yeah,” Steve suddenly concludes, flicking his wrist to toss another rock out to sea that’ll never see the light of day again. “That went on for a while until she got with Hargrove, which was… a total fucking train wreck.”

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond, so he just laughs — a short, sharp, and scoffing breath. 

“Wow,” he muses with his brows raised and hidden beneath his bangs. He shakes his head in complete and utter bemusement as he looks over at Steve, eyelids as heavy as the forced smile on his face. “You guys are fucking assholes, you know that?”

Steve exhales sharply from his nose in place of a laugh. He shakes his head in agreement anyway. “Believe it or not— people can change, Munson.”

The wild-haired boy squints. “Really?”

“I did. Peach did,” he answers with a shrug, then averts his gaze entirely to mumble, “You did, too, I guess…”

The half-heartedly grumbled phrase feels almost like a compliment — more so when it’s spilling from the mouth of someone he used to hate but has grown to sort of tolerate on handpicked occasions. 

It’s great beauty, to grow and shift and become the person you were also meant to be. And what praise it is to be seen in your becoming.

From a brief distance, they hear a soft and relieved “Fucking finally,” spill from Dustin’s mouth.

Eddie turns and finds you coming down from the trail. Well, you and the rest of the girls you ditched him for, but all he can really see is you. 

He’d missed you in a way he knows he shouldn’t have. Not just because you were only gone for one measly hour, but because that one measly hour ate away at him as though it were eons. 

He knows he shouldn’t miss you so hard, but sometimes the absence feels strangely fulfilling. It’s a reminder that you’re real and not some dream he made up in his head. A reminder that he’ll meet you again because you’ll always come back to him.

“Have fun?” you ask when he’s close enough to hear you. You’ve got one eye squinted to shield from the sun and also to conceal the beam threatening to take over your features.

“Oh. Tons,” Eddie scoffs in a deadpan. “Didn’t even miss you.”

“No?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Well, I didn’t miss you either,” you confess in a similar lilt and with a similar grin that drips with honeyed adoration. “’S why I spent the whole time picking these flowers for you.”

You shrug and hold out your left hand, where a bushel of tiny flowers rests softly against the edge of your palm. It’s a mixture of vivid colors — of greens, blues, purples, and yellows. They’re wild and beautiful and drenched in sun. A whole lot like the love he has for you.

The dull ache of his broken heart sears with warmth when you put it back together again.

Eddie’s toes dig into the sand as he fills the short distance between you. He curls his fingers around your elbows, takes you in his arms, and feels whole again. With a rosy smile and sparkling chocolate eyes, he groans, “Oh, god, I hate you so much…”

Your cheeks hurt with how large your grin has grown, with how hard you try to hide it. It’s not nearly as painful as the adoration burning wildfires behind your ribcage. “I hate you more, Eddie Spaghetti.”

There’s no need to admit you’re only joking.

The words are so obviously playful. 

And both of you know what they really mean, anyway.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

The heavenly cadence of spring rain sings a wild song on the old tin roof.

It began first as a few gentle taps, a sparse sprinkle that tricks your brain into thinking it’s not really there at all. Then the greying clouds gave way to darker, more ponderous ones. The soft drizzle became a roaring rain that fell all together, all at once.

A foggy grey covers the cabin and lulls its inhabitants to sleep. Swim-tired, sunkissed, and energy-spent — you all return to a sweeter sort of peace. The sudden exhaustion feels like rose petals. It’s gentle, pure, and liquid smooth. 

Robin clocks out first, and in record time. She stomps in from outside, terribly sunburnt and complaining relentlessly — before and after a cold shower. She shoves a burger in her face and passes out on the couch soon after.

Steve makes fun of her for it, but he goes right after her. He lays opposite her on the small couch, both of them fighting for room, even in their sleep.

Nancy went a lot more quietly, and only after the millionth time you assured her that she was more than welcome to take the bed. “It’s not like Robin has any plans of sleeping upstairs right now,” you joked, nodding your head over to the brunette girl who had her chin tilted backward and her mouth wide open.

You can’t be entirely sure what the kids are up to now, but they’ve all returned to the bunk room. It’s quiet, but not suspiciously so. You figure they’re all either sleeping or fighting it, so you decide to give them privacy while you sit alone in the kitchen — waiting for Eddie’s shower to end and for Hopper to get off the phone with you.

“Having fun?” the man wonders politely.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum in response, cheek propped lazily against your fist as you lean over the granite countertop. You’re too heavy with fatigue to do anything else. Your legs are sore and your skin is sun-drenched. Slumber all but sings your name like a siren out at sea.

“What about El? She doing okay?”

“Yep.”

“You’re watching her and Mike, right? You’re not letting them go off alone?”

“Yes, Hopper,” you singsong in an impatient-sounding sigh.

The man huffs out a laugh that crackles from the other line. “You sound like you don’t wanna talk to me, teacup.”

“I’m sorry. ‘M just tired. Running after kids all day is exhausting,” you confess in a series of barely intelligible mumbles.

“Exactly. That’s why you wear protection—”

“Hopper!”

“I’m just saying!” Jim defends between a bout of gruff laughter. “I don’t want you  coming back from this trip and having a mini-Munson nine months later, alright? That’s all I’m saying.”

You have a hard time placing his intention — if he’s truly being protective or if he’s just making fun of you. He’s more than aware of Eddie’s secret, after all, so you coming home with a mini-Munson is virtually impossible. But, then again, no-parents-empty-cabin surely has its own lewd history.

You figure it’s a healthy mixture of both, and decide to take the piss out of him, too.

“Oh, trust me, lurch. There’s gonna be a million mini-Munsons when I get back. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time, huh?” you argue with squinted eyes and a sudden fire behind your sunkissed lassitude. “Please ignore the sounds of moaning and squeaking, by the way.”

A beat of utter silence passes. 

The other line is perfectly mute. You can’t even hear his breathing.

“…That’s not funny,” Hopper grouses in a monotone.

“I’m not laughing,” you retort, giggling anyway. You couldn’t hide them if you tried. Fuck, you miss annoying this man in person. 

You collect yourself with a sigh and continue. “Believe it or not, I’m perfectly abstinent, okay? I’m not some kinda fiend that… You know what— I don’t want to talk about this with you, actually.”

Hopper exhales a sigh of relief when you cut yourself off. “Good. I checked out of this conversation about a minute ago.”

“I’m good. El’s good. Everyone’s currently sleeping, so… Thanks for checking in, lurch.”

“Remind me to ask for Harrington next time I call.”

“Will do.”

You hang up the phone with a smile and a plan to trek upstairs and tell Eddie all about it. You’ll sit on the bathroom counter and laugh about it with him while he finishes up his shower. You’ll leave out the million Munsons part, of course, because you don’t want him to think you’re a total weirdo.

Eddie finds you first.

“Mini Munsons, huh?” you hear the boy chuckle behind you.

Your heart lurches against your ribcage at his sudden arrival. You spin around to face him, features wide and gaping as you figure out how to worm your way out of this one. “I was— I was just kidding. Hopper was being annoying, you know? So I was… I was just fucking around with him…”

Eddie meets your wild-eyed shock with a much cooler, pink smile. It’s lopsided and wide and beautiful. Leaning against the wall, he bounces his shoulder and juts out his lip. “Well, I know that’s your favorite pastime, so… I guess I won’t hold it against you.”

You know he’s joking, but you exhale the breath you were holding in relief anyway. “Thank you…”

He walks the short distance to meet you. His bare feet pad against the kitchen tile until he’s close enough to wrap you in his arms. He carries the smell of your body wash with him — a warm, floral, and sweet scent. His hair is damp and pulled back out of his face, dripping onto the neck of his t-shirt.

His palms are wide and lotion-soft as they smooth up your forearms. “Uh… Everyone’s asleep now, I think, so… You wanna go talk?”

He looks at you so sweet, you’re almost certain it’s code for something. Not sex, maybe, but something almost as gratifying. It’s Eddie — he kisses you stupid like he was made to do it. You’re more than happy to make out like teenagers until the rest of the cabin starts to stir again.

“Sure, I do,” you answer with a shrug, trying to keep an air of nonchalance about you even though you’re beaming up at him like schoolgirl — some innocent being that’s never been hurt before.

You let him lead you up the spiral staircase with that same giddy grin. You barely let him shut the door behind you before you’re pushing him against it. 

You hear him gasp quietly when your arms wrap suddenly around his neck. He’s tense when your body presses against his, like hugging a mountain’s edge. It takes him a moment or more to respond when you start kissing the breath from his lungs.

He finally relaxes with a soft exhale that fans against your cupid’s bow. His idling hands settle over your hips, fingers threatening to crawl beneath your cropped shirt when it rises to reveal a sliver of your skin. You’d kill for him to touch you further, but his touch stays perfectly still. You’re just glad he’s holding you at all.

He tastes like nicotine, soda, and summertime — clean, boyish, and nostalgic. Your tongue swipes gently over his plush bottom lip for more. You expect him to open up further for you, to let you explore the mouth you already know like the back of your hand. You’re heartbroken when he pulls away from you entirely, missing him the second he’s gone.

Eddie’s grieving in a similar way. It’s hard for him to part from you when you kiss him like no person on earth has ever been kissed.

He breathes out a soft laugh as he peers down at you. He grins crookedly with his freshly swollen lips. “Not that I’m not enjoying this or anything, sweetheart, but when I said talk, I really did mean talk…”

Your blood runs red-hot. “Oh…” you sigh like an idiot because you can’t think of anything else to say. You feel like a total fool — spent ages denying the slut stereotype just to jump someone’s bones the second you got them alone. Maybe they were right about you.

Eddie sees you second-guessing everything, watches you form a long-winded apology inside your head. He follows up quickly to quell your worry. “No, it’s okay— it’s kinda my bad, actually. I guess I should’ve clarified.”

You muster a trembling smile when you step back from him. You’re cold the second he’s gone. You have to fight back the shiver that crawls up your spine. “Well, you did say talk, so…”

“Yeah, but how often do I say things I actually mean?”

“Sometimes,” you answer sheepishly, gazing at him from beneath your lashes in a sincere response to his half-joke. “I hope…”

I hope you meant it when you said you liked me, is what you’re really trying to say. I hope you meant all the nice things you’ve said about me, ‘cause I don’t think I could handle them never being real.

He seems to hear everything you don’t say. 

His rosy lips tug into a slow smile as he tilts his head to his shoulder. “Well… maybe when it comes to you, sweetheart.”

Your girlish smile returns to you — wide, innocent, unhurt. You like feeling this special. You like Eddie belonging to you in a way he doesn’t to anybody else. It’s a primal sort of possession, a borderline unhealthy one for someone who loves like it’s breathing.

“What did you wanna talk about then?” you wonder, then scrunch your nose with a distant wariness. “It kinda seems serious now.”

“No,” Eddie scoffs, walking away from you and towards the bed. “Not serious.”

The mattress squeaks under his weight when he flops down onto it. You want to scold him for being so rough with an obviously aged thing that doesn’t belong to him. You’re already gravitating towards him with an unrealized smile on your face. 

You sit down beside him, far more gently than he had. You settle on top of the fluffy comforter and curl your legs behind you. Eddie lays on his side, propping his head up with one hand and using the other to trace the faded scars and beauty marks on your thigh. 

His finger trails absentmindedly over your skin in a featherlight touch. Chills erupt over your skin, and he smiles to himself. You’re still learning how to be touched so delicately.

“Spit it out, Eds. The tension’s killing me,” you laugh with words you’ll regret a second later.

“I don’t know… I just— I wanted to ask why you never told me about Steve,” the boy says with a nonchalant shrug, like the words don’t suck all the breath from your lungs. He’s too busy watching his finger dance across your skin to see the shock flood your features. “Like, I knew you guys had— a thing or whatever. But I didn’t know… you know, the rest of it.”

Despite being unable to breathe, you try to muster a laugh. “This sounds like a pretty serious topic, Eds.”

His wide-eyed gaze matches your own. His stare darts upward to meet yours. The chocolate of his irises are full with brooding. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. Actually, he spent his entire showering thinking of ways to bring this up that would be the least painful for the both of you. But in true Eddie Munson fashion, he can’t ever say the right thing.

“No! No, it— it doesn’t have to be. I was just… It was just a question, you know?” he sputters hopelessly. He glances away and mumbles to himself, “A really dumb, stupid question…”

Despite the overwhelming urge to find the deepest, darkest hole and hide there, you can’t tear your eyes away from the boy in front of you. You’re not really looking at him, though, much too deep in your own head about the whole thing. 

You can’t stop thinking about what he must’ve heard — how he felt when he heard it. Did he think of you differently? Even for a fraction of a second, was he embarrassed at the very thought of you?

“Are you saying that… Steve told you about… all of it?” you ask slowly, terrified of the answer.

“Uh, yeah…” Eddie hesitates, equally as apprehensive. “Honestly, I think we were going a little insane with the girls around…”

He exhales sharply through his nose in place of a laugh and flashes a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It ebbs away a moment later.

“Why would he do that?” you wonder with wide, wet eyes. The question is more for yourself than anything. You can’t begin to understand why Steve would’ve opened up about such a thing — to Eddie, of all people. Your Eddie.

“I asked him about Billy—”

“What do you know about Billy?”

“Well, he brought it up, but—”

“So you spent the entire time talking about me?” The laugh that spills from your mouth is bitter, cruel. 

Eddie, who’s never known you to be either, chuckles emotionlessly back. “Well… No. It just— It just came up, I guess.”

You smile despite the emotion swimming in your glassy eyes. It makes the boy cower inside himself, unsure which contrasting reaction to pay the most attention to. “My relationship with Steve and Billy just… came up?”

“Yeah. It’s not a big deal, babe—”

“It’s not a big deal because they weren’t your exes,” you bite like a snarling dog. “If I spent the entire time talking about you, you wouldn’t be too happy about it either, would you?”  

Eddie’s eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “I didn’t come up? Not one time?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. The volume of your answer and its blurted sincerity take him by surprise. You wave your hands wildly as you ramble. “I told Nancy that I missed you and that I couldn’t wait to see you and give you a bunch of stupid flowers—”

You motion to the makeshift bouquet sitting on the nightstand. They idle in a clear shot glass Eddie found in one of the cabinets. He couldn’t stand not giving them a home.

“—While you were off with Steve, talking about everyone that’s fucked me over!”

Your rage is as wild as it is brutal. You’re painted red from the slaughter you’ve been forced through. It’s given you claws and teeth accordingly. 

Like a stray dog that bites the gentle hand trying to feed it, you’ve been so obviously mistreated. Eddie knew that before he knew you — ‘cause he’s got eyes, as well as a bleeding heart. Someone didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved, and now the memory turns you cruel.

“It wasn’t like that, okay?” Eddie presses with an urgency you can feel on his hand curling intently around your calf. His fingers tremble with sincerity. His dark eyes swim with it, too. “I just— I wanted to learn more about you because you never tell me anything!”

“Yes, I do!” you scoff.

“Then why do you never talk about Billy?”

“Why do you care so much about Billy?” you cry with a broad, disbelieving smile. “Why do I need to talk about him? He doesn’t even matter— he doesn’t even exist anymore!”

“Because something obviously happened! And if that thing is bothering you, I wanna be able to make it better!”

“That’s what therapists are for, Eddie. Not boyfriends.”

“Yeah, not any that you ever had,” he scoffs to himself before he can stop it. 

You tense beneath his hand. He deflates with a sigh — squeezing his eyes shut and asking himself how the hell he manages to make the bad shit that much worse. 

“Sorry. I’m— I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t bring any of this up to hurt your feelings, alright? I just wanted to— I don’t know— I just wanted to talk about it, okay? That’s all.”

You can tell he’s being sincere. That he really did just want to talk about it, and that he really is worried about you, and that he really does want to make it all better. He wears it all over his face. His features are soft and blurred and utterly genuine.

You haven’t yet softened your sharp, whetted edges. “You said we didn’t have to. That this trip was supposed to be fun.”

He flinches at the way you spit the words at him. They’re coated in vinegar, venom. It sinks into his skin and maims him accordingly. His bushy brows furrow, the corners of his mouth turn downward, and his eyes go glassy — a sad puppy indeed.

“You’re not having fun?” he wonders in a wounded whisper.

His hurt becomes your own. It only makes your anger tower mountains over you. “Not anymore,” you answer lowly and through a tense jaw.

Eddie’s spent a lifetime screwing things up. He’s spent a lifetime apologizing for them, too. This one aches worse than all the others combined. “I’m sorry…” he mutters quietly.

You’ve never seen him this somber. This sad.

The broken look of your lover’s heartache cracks the hardened porcelain you’re made of. You let out the breath you were holding in a trembling, heavy sigh. “No, don’t— Don’t apologize.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t have brought it up…” he confesses with his gaze cast downward.

You bring a hand to the one idling on your leg. You rest your soft palm over his bony knuckles. Your touch is much warmer than the iceberg you were just minutes ago. 

“It’s okay. You were just curious. I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did,” you concede. The softness he’s more familiar with finally returns to you. The corner of your lip quirks into a wavering half-smile as you joke, “But if you want the entire list of guys that have fucked me over, it’s a really— it’s really fucking long one.”

You laugh quietly at your joke. 

But Eddie knows it’s not really a joke, so he stays unsmiling.

His touch is still soft, though. He takes to rubbing your calf again — a slow and measured up and down — a reminder that he’s still in your corner. “Well, you can tell me about it when you’re ready.”

“What if I’m not?” you wonder, hesitant and testing the waters. “Like… What if I don’t want you to know all that stuff?”

Eddie’s gaze flits away from yours as he ponders the question. He purses his lips to the side and nods to himself, visibly deep in thought. “Then I’m good with not knowing,” he answers after a few, long moments.

“Are you?”

Again, he thinks.

“Not really. No,” he responds, still as honest as he’s always been with you. He grins lopsidedly and bounces his shoulder. “But if it means I get to keep you, then… Yeah.”

You exhale a breathy laugh at his words.

Eddie’s wavering smile breaks out in a sheepish beam at the sight of your more genuine grin. 

“Can I have a kiss?” he whispers to you, as innocent and mousy as a child.

Your hand gives his a reassuring squeeze. “You never have to ask, Eds…” you remind him.

You lean down to press your mouth against his. He tilts his chin to meet you halfway. It’s chaste and lingering — a delicate peck that expresses all the swirling emotions neither of you could name if you tried. 

“There isn’t anything about you that I wouldn’t want to know,” Eddie confesses after he’s pulled away from you. The breath of his words fan across your cheek, he’s still so close to you. His deep galaxy eyes dance between both of yours. “You know that, right?”

A smile tugs slow at your mouth. “Now, I do,” you nod in return, even though you’re not sure if you believe him. 

He only says that because he doesn’t know you — the deep, dark you that you try to keep hidden from yourself and the rest of the world. He’d learn everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve done, and he’d hate you. He wouldn’t be able to look at you the same.

You can’t stand the thought of Eddie looking at you the way the rest of Hawkins does — with eyes squinted and twinkling with an admiral sort of disgust. So you’d rather him not know any of it at all.

Silence dances into the room as effortlessly as a spring breeze. The rain’s offbeat cadence taps hard against the sliding glass door across the room. You have the sudden urge to walk outside and stand it. You think it’d be easier to drown in the warm deluge than in your own thoughts.

Eddie’s rosy mouth turns slightly upward. Yours does, too, in anticipation of what he’s about to tell you.

“Wanna fool around?” he wonders, if only to brighten the heavy grey mood.

The sound of your laughter is sunshine — a metaphor he’s been trying to write for years. “You can’t just say that every time we’re alone, Eds!”

“Why not?” he challenges just to tease you.

“Because you know we can’t,” you answer with a soft sort of sternness about you. Your eyes are firm with sincerity, though they sparkle with mischief.

“We’ve been here almost two days, and I haven’t got one whiff of Jason Voorhees, babe.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you mutter, then whisper more quietly. “There’s people downstairs.”

“Well, you can be quiet…” Eddie lilts, grin lopsided and pink as he rises off the mattress to lean closer to you. His breath fans across your chin, coated with nicotine and something sugary. He tilts his wild head to the side and raises his brows in question. “Can’t you?”

“I’m not sure that you can, Eds.”

“Don’t worry about me,” the boy assures, voice low and suddenly serious.

His warm palm travels up your calf, smoothing over your knee and curling around the side of your thigh. His touch is almost as all-consuming as his stare — deep chocolate brown, as infinite as a galaxy. You fall into them accordingly. You couldn’t deny him if you wanted to.

You try, anyway.

“Eddie…” you start, a warning that trails off when he squeezes the buzzing skin of your outer thigh.

“Lay down,” he urges. It’s too soft to be a genuine command. It gives him ample opportunity to turn it all into a joke on the off chance you reject him completely.

You don’t. You couldn’t.

You find yourself slithering past him and closer to the headboard before you realize you’re doing it. It’s like you’re made of magic, totally under whatever spell he’s unknowingly cast upon you. Your head’s swimming with his sorcery as you lie back on the pillows. 

Eddie follows you, resting his body above yours. It’s a comfortable sort of weight, heavenly even. He props himself up on his forearms so he isn’t crushing you completely, though you wouldn’t complain if he did. 

You want him to ruin you, and then you want to thank him for it.

The untrimmed edges of his curls hang down over his face. They tickle your jaw when he kisses you with the ardency of someone who wants to swallow you whole. His tongue swipes against yours, slow and more aggressive than either of you expect. He sucks on your swelling bottom lip right after.

The gray world around you explodes with a burst of a thousand colors. You can’t see any of them because the inner workings of your mind have been stripped away and replaced totally with Eddie. His nose nudging against yours. The taste of his mouth. The texture of his tongue. The warmth of his breath. His hand traveling down down down your body.

His palm starts at your cheek, cupping sweetly at your jaw so he can open your mouth wider for him. Then his touch trails down to your neck, taking a brief pitstop to feel the rapid thrum of your racing pulse, before falling to your chest.

You think he must be able to feel your pounding heart through your t-shirt when he cups your breast. His thumb swipes over your hardened nipple in time with his tongue diving deep into your mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smile when the combined efforts make you shiver.

His fingers smooth over your ribcage, then your stomach, and then your hips. 

It’s a touch featherlight, yet steady and earnest at the same time. His hand creeps slowly over the thin fabric of your shorts and settles between the warmth radiating between your thighs. He cups you gently through your clothes and kisses the breath from your lungs. It’s like he’s trying to kill you.

You buck your hips slightly upward in a silent plea for more. 

The boy above you has the nerve to pull away from you to ask, “This okay?” 

His hair is mussed from where your fingers had entwined so intensely in his chestnut strands. His lips are rosy and swollen and wild. You get lost looking at him. 

With dazed eyes trained on the pink mouth you so desperately want to kiss again, you nod like an enthusiastic child.

“Can I do more?” Eddie wonders through heavy breaths.

“Please,” you hear yourself say, right before your hips cant against the subtle weight of his palm.

You watch with wide, unblinking eyes as Eddie brings his hand to his mouth. His pink tongue darts out to lick the pads of his middle and forefinger, leaving them glistening as he slithers them into your shorts. 

His efforts to be easy with you are appreciated but virtually unnecessary. You’re as slippery as satin for him, drooling in anticipation for him to make you feel good. 

He slides two fingers into your trembling pussy with little effort. The fatty edge of his palm settles over your swelling clit. Your head tilts back against the pillow while you exhale a pretty moan.

With your eyes fluttered shut, you don’t see the crooked grin tugging slow at Eddie’s mouth. “Shh…” he shushes, only half playful, before engulfing your mouth again and swallowing each of your gentle cries. 

He’s moaning with you, though, at the soft squelch your pussy makes when his fingers sink to the knuckle inside you. You feel the smooth metal of his rings on the outside of your cunt and the inside of your thighs.

And fuck, you’re so pretty for him — always so pretty for him — that it makes him forget about the ache of his stiffening cock. His yearning for you throbs like a heartbeat. He wants so desperately to fuck you, to really fuck you until he’s got you gushing all over his lap. But he figures he can settle for this for now. 

But the way you’re moaning for him just now? It doesn’t really feel like settling.

“You’re so pretty,” he hums lowly, almost to himself. “Have I told you that?”

He has. Plenty of times within the few months he’s been able to do that without it being too weird. It feels like the first time he’s ever said it to you, anyway.

A breathy moan spills lightly from your lips, like a spring breeze coated in sunshine. It’s the total opposite of the storm swirling outside the bedroom. 

Your cunt involuntarily squeezes his fingers at the compliment — walls sticky, hot, and pulsing. You all but melt around the two digits he presses inside you.

He figures you must like the praise, which is great ‘cause praising you is the easiest thing on the planet. 

“You have such a pretty pussy, too,” he confesses in a gritty whisper.

You moan for him again, a muffled cry stuck in your throat.

“Feels so warm around my fingers… And you’re so tight, baby— I don’t know how I’m gonna fit my cock in you—”

His words are as sinful as they are vivid. 

Behind your shut eyes, you can see the vision of him on top of you. You can feel his sweaty body sticking to yours like glue — similar to the honey you leak for him while he fucks you. 

If you try hard enough, you can almost replace his fingers for his cock. You know it’s nowhere near as pleasurable as the real thing, though.

The thought of him fucking you — making love to you — has you whining and writhing beneath him. Your hips jut upward, looking for pleasure and running away from it all at once. His fingers squelch as they push in and in and in. You drool impossibly more for him, drenching his fingers and his rings and the cotton sheets below you.

“You could take it though, right?” the boy above you wonders, swollen lips quirked in a heavy half-smile. “You’d take whatever I give you, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

You hardly recognize him now. Not because he’s teasing you — because you’ve gotten more than used to that — but because he’s so damn confident. 

He talks to you with the finesse of a guy who’s done this a thousand times, to a thousand different girls. You’re the first, and you know this, but he’s ruining you like he created you.

You nod with a satin sigh.

The silent admission makes Eddie’s head spin. 

He shouldn’t have you in the first place, the metalhead freak he is, yet he’s got two fingers inside you and your permission to go further. And he wants to — god, he wants to — but he’s scared it’ll drive him crazy. 

Crazier than he already is for you, if that’s possible.

“Get on your side for me, yeah?” he whispers to you, surprising himself with his newfound dominance.

You’re too far gone to do anything but obey him. 

You maneuver onto your side like he asked, feeling like your bones are made of melted honey. Eddie follows you. He keeps his fingers nestled deep inside your thrumming heat as he curls in behind you. 

His stiff, aching cock is hard and heavy against your clothed ass. Despite the layers of clothes separating you, his warmth presses so intently against you. You clench around him at the feeling — tighter when his fingers begin to crook inside you. You tilt your head back and moan, rutting further back against him.

Eddie smushes his nose into your hair and hums a moan in his throat. His heavy exhale fans against the shell of your ear. He keeps working you open with his fingers, a slow and measured rhythm he maintains with the thrusts of his hips.

He’s terribly sensitive, almost embarrassingly so. You drive him too wild for anything else. Even like this, without being inside you and with his clothes still on, he feels like he might explode.

You’re much of the same. The pad of his thumb rubs mercilessly at your swollen clit as his fingers coax you towards a head-spinning orgasm. The overwhelming pleasure crawls up your throat, strikes you like lightning, and swirls in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t run from it if you tried.

It doesn’t stop you from canting your hips back and forth — a feeble attempt to cope with the overwhelming pleasure Eddie gives you with nothing but his hand. With his pale arm caging your side and his lean body behind you, curling and melting with yours, you can only get so far. 

All you can do is take it.

Eddie whimpers delicately in your ear as he humps your ass. He babbles in faint whines — things you don’t think he realizes he’s saying. 

“You’re so hot, baby,” he slurs heavily, swollen mouth tracing the shell of your ear. “So soft, too... Fuck... Keep grinding back on me like that— shit, yeah, just like that. ’S gonna make me come in my fucking pants, baby.”

If you weren’t drowning in the void of your own pleasure, you might’ve asked him to come. No, begged him to. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” you would’ve assured him, only slightly teasing. But you don’t do any of that because his fingers are shoved so far into you that you can feel them in your throat. 

Or maybe that’s just your impending climax choking you. 

You couldn’t form an intelligible sentence if you wanted to, either way. 

Instead, you roll your hips back against his cock and act like he’s fucking you for real. The idea of it alone sends you catapulting into an orgasm. You’re so far gone for him — for the freak of Hawkins — you let him ruin you while you fall for him like the rain pounding at your window. 

Effortlessly, unapologetically, and over and over and over again.

Eddie dampens his boxers in the same way you drench his fingers. His twitching cock drools for you, more and more as he nears his peak. He hasn’t felt anything as gratifying as grinding against you like this. He’s bound to be a fucking goner the second he’s caught inside your snug pussy. 

“Can feel you trembling for me, you know?” he continues to ramble, only half-aware of the sin spilling from his rosy lips. His thumb presses against the fleshy hood of your clit. He’s barely moving it, but the pressure alone has you buzzing.  “You’re gonna cum so hard for me, aren’t you? Gonna make a mess all over my hand?”

You bite back a cry — quite literally, with your teeth caging your bottom teeth — and lean your head back to bear your throat. You throw a hand back in search of Eddie. Your fingers twist in the mussed curls at the crown of his head.

“Mm, Eddie—” you call in a muffled cry, overwhelmed and half-frightened by how good he’s making you feel. By how hard you’re about to cum for him.

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos sympathetically to you, crooking his fingers in time with his grinds against the plush of your ass. His cock starts to ache all over again, this time with hunger. 

Through a breaking voice, he begs. “Go on and cum for me, yeah? Let me make you feel good, baby. Cum all over my fingers, baby— I need it… I fucking need it. I’m so fucking close—”

You bury your face in the pillow when you cum, crying his name into the cushion for only the two of you to hear. You tense, thighs shaking and toes curling, as you gush around his fingers — like the pouring rain outside. 

You drip mercilessly for him, a slippery mess between your thighs you know you should be ashamed of. You might’ve been, if it were anybody else.

Eddie stills behind you, though his fingers remain relentless. He coaxes you completely through your orgasm just as he’s reaching his own. His moans come out in gasps — choppy, sharp breaths through a swollen mouth. His aching cock spits in the confines of his boxers, several warm loads that cool too quickly. 

He trembles through his high, trying to trek through its entirety but growing so suddenly sensitive. 

You let him work you through yours. His fingers, now wrinkled at the pads, are frozen inside you while his thumb circles softly at your delicate clit. You twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Your hand leaves his hair to grab his wrist, a silent plea that you can’t take anything more.

And the two of you just lie there, for several long moments — sticky, blissed-out, and so intently pressed together. You let the heavy moment of your ebbing orgasms linger. You decompose together in the heavy honey of pleasure.

It’s all so messy, but then again, everything seems to be. 

His hair, his fingers, his boxers. 

Your thighs, your bed, your heart. 

Words. Life. Love.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie

[wardenparker]

First Christmas

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 10.6k Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of sex toys/gagging, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cuddling, fluff, picturesque family stuff everywhere. Summary: A whirlwind relationship has led you to marrying Marcus before a lot of traditional landmarks in the dating realm. Now it's time to meet the Pikes, and you'll be doing it on their absolute favorite holiday. Notes: Please enjoy some seasonal fluff! While Marcus and the Pikes are obviously depicted as celebrating Christmas (duh, that's the plot) there aren't any references to the family being Christian, or to reader's religious identity. This is just some good old fashioned all-American Marcus fluff for the holiday 🧡🎄❄

“I talked to my Mom this morning.” Marcus shucks his jacket, buoyed by his news, although he’s had every reason to grin when he’s coming home to you every night. “And I managed to book the last two tickets. Had to get first class, but I used miles, so it wasn’t that bad.” He leans in and drops a kiss on your lips before he turns to hang his coat on the rack. “Figure we fly out a couple of days before Christmas and we can fly home the day after. We only end up needing to take a day or two maximum out of work that way. What do you think?”

“What do I think about three days with your entire extended family when it will be the very first time I’m meeting them all?” Marrying Marcus had been a whirlwind, and while you’re immensely happy together and have no regrets for the situation— it is a little intimidating. Marcus is incredibly close to his family and you are the exact opposite. “Honestly, babe? I’m intimidated. But I’m all in. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure they like me.”

“It’ll be great. They will love you.” Of course there had been a million and one questions when Marcus had called with the news that he was married. That he couldn’t wait to plan a wedding, and that you and he had just decided to go to the court house. “Get the embarrassing stories and baby pics out of the way before the rest of the family descends on the house.”

“Cramming into that twin bed in your Mom’s house is going to be fun,” you tease, a slight snort following your grin as you start taking leftovers out of the fridge to warm up for dinner. Last night’s Chinese take out order was more than a little over the top.

“Just means we get to snuggle really close.” He hums, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms around your middle as he presses close. The honeymoon phase hasn’t even begun to fade, and he hopes it never does. “But I think she did trade it for a queen.”

“We’ll still cuddle.” That’s a promise, and you lean back against his chest with a comforted hum that’s so blissful you just let your eyes fall shut and enjoy it. “Though it might be good if she did trade up. A new bed will squeak a hell of a lot less than an old one.”

His cock twitches, but he’s pretty sure that was the entire point of your comment. You love to see how easily you turn him on. “But then we still have to keep you quiet, baby.” He ducks his head and nips at your neck. “Can’t be screaming my name for the entire house to hear.”

Turning your head, you bat your eyelashes at him innocently and make your eyes extra wide. “Should we pack my gag, then?”

“Fuck.” He hisses quietly, twitching against your ass again. “You want to be gagged and fucked hard in my childhood bedroom?” He rasps out.

“Only if there’s really embarrassing posters on the walls.” The evil little teasing giggle that bubbles out of you comes with a full-on grind of your ass against his rapidly hardening cock. It’s not hard to rile each other up, but it is so much fun.

“Want me to show you how hard I would fuck you?” His hands slide under your shirt and cup your tits through the bra you loath and he loves to take off of you.

“Hmmm.” Even pretending to think about it makes you grin harder and you turn around in his arms to wrap your arms around his neck. “The egg rolls take five minutes to warm up in the oven. Think we can get off that fast?”

“You doubt my abilities?” He pouts at you playfully, even as he moves to start unbuttoning your pants. “Baby, I’m hurt.”

“Maybe I just know giving you a challenge always gets results.” Your hands move to his belt as he starts to pull your own pants open.

“Brat.” His grin is infectious as he pushes your pants and panties down over your hips.

“Yeah, and you love it.” You shove the tray in the oven and practically smack the timer in your haste to set it, ready to hop up on the kitchen counter in the idyllic little house you share with your husband and let him fuck the life out of you.

His chuckle is warm and his hands don’t pause as he slides his hand between your thighs to touch you as his other works his belt buckle. “I do love it.” He admits easily.

Whatever clever comeback you have dies on your lips, too focused on your husband’s large hand and quick fingers at the apex of your thighs to do anything but quickly kick off your pants and panties so you can slide back onto the kitchen counter with your legs open.

“Fuck, I love the way you are so eager.” Marcus is always just as eager, but he doesn’t focus on his wants. Having you in front of him demands that you be pleasured and that’s what he’s going to do.

“For you? Always.” It’s been this way between you since the beginning. Since the day he waltzed into your undercover operation posing as your husband who could forge any painting. The spark was immediate and mutual, and soon the lines between role and real life were blurring for both of you. Now, of course, things are less complicated. But the want is no less real.

Marcus hums, leaning in to kiss along your neck like he had quickly discovered you love. Lips and teeth working together to make you moan while his fingers slide inside you.

“Baby.” Managing to moan anything coherent while he’s touching you is a miracle, but you gasp out when he starts to crook his fingers inside the tight walls of your pussy. “Need you, baby. Need you to fill me up.”

“I’m gonna fill you up.” He promises, grinning at the way your jaw is slack when he pulls back to look at you, “just as soon as you cream all over my fingers, baby.”

A whine seems to seep out of your throat unbidden and you glance over at the kitchen timer as your hips rock against his hand. “Four minutes and thirty-two seconds,” you warn with a grin.

“So we have time to have a drink.” He chuckles as he increases the tempo of his fingers as he works them in and out of you.

“Fuck, baby.” Marcus knows exactly how to work you into a frenzy with seemingly zero effort, and he delights in putting that ability on display just as much as he loves taking you apart extra slowly to make you beg. The man is devastatingly talented and you are the happy beneficiary of all that laser focus.

“That’s what I’m gonna do.” He teases. “Fuck you. Been thinking about it all day while working on paperwork.”

Being on your best behaviour at work does mean that you haven’t had him fuck you on his desk yet, but you’ve been craving it. The kitchen counter will have to serve as a substitute for just a little longer, it seems. “Yeah?” You pant, feeling yourself get closer and closer under his expert touch. “Bet you had to stay hidden behind that desk all day so no one would see how hard I make you.”

“Soooo fucking hard.” He agrees, reaching up and squeezing your tit through your shirt and bra. “Just have to think about how I woke you up sliding inside you this morning.”

“Best way to wake up.” Your head falls back, thumping against the kitchen cabinet but you barely notice.

“And I love to see your eyes turn glassy before you even wipe the sleep away.” Marcus curls his fingers up and leans in to press his lips to yours. “Cum for me baby.”

It should be impossible for him to command it like that and yet as soon as the words are out of his mouth you are gasping in pleasure and feeling the coil at the base of your spine pull tight right before the stars explode behind your eyes. Marcus groans as he watches your eyes flutter closed, your head tilting back against the cabinet and your sweet little pussy just soaking his fingers with the slickest, hottest cum he’s ever had the pleasure of feeling. “That’s it, baby, shake for me.”

“So fucking good.” Drawing in that first deep breath after cumming is always like the first breath of fresh air in the morning. As soon as the heaviness lifts from your limbs you’re surging forward to kiss him, wrapping one hand around his cock to draw him in closer and beg silently for him to fuck you.

It’s Marcus’s turn to groan and his hips rock forward, chasing your grip as you pump his cock. “Fuck baby, need you so bad.” He moans into your mouth and shuffles closer, his fingers digging into your hips to drag you closer to the edge of the counter.

No one could ever doubt the passion in your marriage, that is for damn sure, and you lean back on the counter so Marcus can line himself up at your entrance – moaning softly when he starts to push inside. "Fuck I love you so much."

“I love you too.” An undercover op that had meant to be a means to getting Teresa Lisbon – now Jane – off his mind, had ended up being the best thing that ever happened to him. You are the best thing that ever happened. “So fucking much.” He pushes until he’s buried to the hilt and immediately pulling back to rock into you again.

When the two of you are worked up like this it never takes long. For a couple who routinely fuck an average of twice a day, anyone would think that it would be taking longer by now. It's not like you're pent up after a week of not seeing each other or anything. In fact, you see each other constantly —  always doing your best to even line up your lunch breaks whenever you possibly can. No, it's just passion. Plain and simple. Top of FormHe has zero problem slapping his thighs against the counter as he works into you. Panting out your name breathlessly as you clench down on him. “Fuck.”

“That’s it, baby.” With one arm twined around his shoulders and the other holding blindly to the counter, your legs have wrapped around Marcus’s trim waist to encourage every thrust. “Feels so fucking amazing.”

“You—your pussy.” He grunts out, biting his lip and then rocking his hips forward with a particularly harsh thrust.

“It’s all yours.” And with as fiercely as his hips slam into yours, it’s a wonder that your pussy doesn’t ache more than she does. But the only aching you ever seem to feel is from wanting him as close as possible. Like right now.

Every push of his hips is complete bliss, groaning as he leans in and presses his lips to yours. “Love you.”

“Love you.” Even mumbled against his lips it’s so true that it makes your heart swell, and you tilt your hips so he can thrust a little deeper each time. He won’t last much longer and the timer must be almost up anyway. “Cum for me, baby. Fill me up.”

“Rub your clit.” He orders. “Cum for me again. Want you to cum again.”

There is nothing you want more in the world right now than to obey, and in barely a Moment more the two of you are panting and moaning into each other’s kiss, careening toward the edge of pleasure. It’s like magic, the way your fingers immediately make your core seize up around him. That little bit of pressure ripping you over the edge and making you cry out his name.

He tumbles over the edge second later, your shaking legs wrapped tight around his waist and keep him deep inside you while he paints your walls with hot cum. It's the perfect way to unwind after a long day at the office, and you groan without restraint. The kisses you press all over his lips and jaw and neck are instantly giddy, the adrenaline rush of cumming taking over the second the crashing orgasm subsides. Marcus groans, tucking his head into your neck the second he can and chuckling as the timer for the oven starts to buzz. “Perfect timing.”

******

“This is it.” The Pike house is on the corner of two main streets in his Nebraska hometown, where the old Victorian rises up from the sidewalk like a proud pillar of the old community and you can perfectly see Marcus growing up here as a little boy. His wholesome, corn-fed, all-American childhood is perfectly framed here. “Right here.” The warmth in his voice is unmistakable, matching the grin that is on his face as he looks up at the house. “Home sweet home. Mom should be here, waiting to pounce on us.”

“You’re excited.” It’s sweet, and you know he’s missed his family something terrible. “Let’s go inside, baby. Time to introduce your wife to your mother.” His second wife, technically, but that’s neither here nor there. His divorce was years and years ago now, even though she is very much still part of the family.

“She’s going to love you.” The fact that he hasn’t had you two on the phone together is just a matter of scheduling but it will quickly be corrected. “Let’s go.” The engine is cut and he opens the driver door to the rental car that was crazy expensive but worth the autonomy of being able to take you around the town.

Like any son, Marcus doesn’t bother to knock at the door but pushes inside, calling out to his mother as soon as it is half open. The first thing that catches your eye is the line of photos down the staircase to your right, and you shift to look at them all right away. Marcus’s two siblings’ wedding photos. A collage frame of each family featuring their children at different ages. Marcus’s graduation photo from the Academy. And his parents’ wedding photo that is now some forty years old.

“Marc?” The voice rings out from the kitchen and there’s the general clanging of pots and pans as she hustles out the doorway, wiping her hands in the dishrag. “Oh Marc, you made it!”

Julia Pike is a tall and fairly slender woman with grays streaked heavily through her dirty blonde hair and laugh lines that speak to a lifetime of joy with her family. But more than all of those things, she is a hugger. Her arms envelope both you and Marcus as soon as you’re within reach and she hums so happily that anyone could be easily forgiven for confusing her with the family cat. “How was your flight, sweetie? The food was probably terrible, right? Airline food always is. Come in, come in! Leave your things here and I’ll get you some lunch.”

“Hey Mom,” his arms are just as tight around his mother as they are when he hugs you. “We didn’t even risk the airport food, so we are starving.” He pulls back and gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please tell me you are making my favorite?”

“Do you think I would just skip out on your first meal home in more than a year and not make you chowder?” She tuts as if she’s insulted and turned to you conspiratorially. “Of all the things in the world, it’s always been corn and potato chowder. Who knows where he picked that up from but the first time I put bacon in it he started begging for it constantly.”

“Because bacon is probably the only thing that beats pancakes.” Marcus leans in and kisses his mother’s cheek. “And Mom makes the best corn and potato chowder you will ever have.” He promises you, letting go of her so he can wrap his arm around your waist. “Why don’t you two go into the kitchen and I’ll bring in the bags?”

“Thanks, honey.” It’s just a squeeze of his hand in yours before he slips back out the door, but you already feel more at ease. His mother is so incredibly sweet.

“Don’t worry a bit, I won’t bite.” Julia promises, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and giggling quietly as she guides you to the kitchen. “I’ll quickly fill you in on his most embarrassing stories.”

“I’m sorry we haven’t been able to meet or talk before.” That’s really the first thing you want to say, knowing how much Marcus loves his family. “It’s all happened very fast, and we’re still wrapping up this case that our departments are working on together.”

“Don’t worry.” She smiles indulgently. If she had been a lesser woman, she would have been upset or insulted by the quick wedding and no communication, but she was secure in her youngest child’s affection. “You’re in the honeymoon phase and who wants to talk to your mother-in-law when you can be cuddling your new spouse?”

"Unfortunately, work doesn't give us a lot of downtime. Even getting a few days off for Christmas was something of a coup d’état." Following her into the kitchen, you look around the well-appointed space and note buttery looking rolls sitting on a baking tray nearby and the whole place smells like absolute heaven. "I really can't thank you enough for having us here a few days early. He's been so excited to come home and see everyone again."

“I have so looked forward to meeting you.” She waves away your thanks. “The way Marcus has talked about you when we chat, I just knew that we would be good friends.”

"He is...completely remarkable." The warmth that rushes to your cheeks at that admission is immediate, but it's honest. You won't shrug it away or apologize for it. "I know our meeting was pretty unconventional, but it was like we knew each other instantly. He's really...he's my best friend, on top of everything else. So I've really been looking forward to meeting all of you. To see how he got to be the amazing man I married." It sounds cheesy, like you're sucking up or something, but it's all so true. And since you are every bit as sentimental as your husband, you don't mind saying it out loud.

“Marcus has always led with his heart.” Julia acknowledges and turns back towards the stove to start dishing up large bowls of the chowder. “It has sometimes led him to heartbreak,” she tells you, turning around with the first bowl. “But somehow I think he’s got it right.”

"I love him so much." And you won't hesitate to shout it from the rooftops, either, which has a smile spreading over his mother's face as she works. Immediately jumping in, you pick up the empty basket beside the tray of rolls and stack them inside. She's set the little kitchen table for the three of you to eat at, so that is where the basket will end up. "I already can't imagine how I ever kept my head on without him, and I can't imagine a single day of my future without him in it."

“The perfect thing about it, is that I think you mean it.” She tells you, handing you a bowl of chowder. “In fact, I would bet money on it. I have a feeling about these things.”

"You're the one he gets it from." Accepting the bowl and setting it down, you take the next from her as well and make sure everything is set out. The opening and closing of the front door says that Marcus has returned and that makes your smile brighten reflexively. "He has a reputation for it at work. His sixth sense."

“Of course he does. He’s a hard worker and he follows his feelings.” She shrugs slightly. “Sometimes it is faulty, but I blame that on the other people involved.”

"People largely follow patterns, but the human ability to be unpredictable really does throw a monkey wrench in case work sometimes," you acknowledge. Of course, it can also be what makes your job so interesting at times. When Marcus comes down the hall to the kitchen you can't help the way you beam, leaning back for a second so he can help his Mom with the last bowl and get a pitcher of something to drink from the refrigerator. "It smells amazing, Mrs. Pike." Until she's given you explicit permission, you're not presuming to call her by her first name. You've known too many friends who got on their mother-in-law's bad side off the bat for being considered too informal or disrespectful because they tried to be friendly.

“That is just the best compliment I’ve ever had.” Julia can’t help but melt slightly as she pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit down. “Now, I won’t insist that you call me ‘Mom’, but I also don’t want you to call me ‘Mrs. Pike’. That’s your name too now. So, please call me Julia?”

"Julia, then." Sitting down at the table with Marcus and his mother feels a hell of a lot more comfortable than you had worried it might be. But so far? So far, so good. "Although, since you mention it, having two Special Agent Pikes at work has been fairly entertaining. We keep accidentally getting each other's deliveries from the mailroom."

She laughs, well aware of the confusion and commotion it would cause. “You might have to start adding your first initial to your mail.” She snorts, shaking her head. “Or…do nothing and use the mail mix up as a good excuse to steal a kiss on the government’s time.”

"That's..." You glance at Marcus and you both grin unapologetically before everyone digs into their lunch. "What we've been doing so far. But once Marcus gets his promotion it won't be a worry anymore. His title will change and the mix-ups will be over."

“I still cannot believe that they have not moved you into the role you went to D.C. for.” Julia huffs, frowning fiercely. It seems like that is just wrong to her and it is. Her baby was supposed to be the head of his department by now, but something about delaying retirement on the outgoing head had pushed back Marcus taking over the role.

“Technically, they have,” you assure her, not wanting his mother to think that Marcus isn’t being fully respected at work. “He is running the task force that he was promised. The decision to move him up to head of the department came after he had already accepted the transfer, so it’s on a different timeline. But it’s all on track. The current department head just wanted to finish out the calendar year and he’ll retire at the end of the month. It’s just a matter of weeks now.”

“Well…that’s good, I suppose.” Like any mother she knows, she’s protective over her children and their lives, even when they’ve long left her nest. “And Marc tells me that you work in another department? How are you enjoying it?”

“I work in the white collar crimes division,” you nod, managing not to moan out loud at your first taste of the soup. No wonder this is Marcus’s favorite, it’s like a giant hug. “Mostly I work on fraud cases. Forgeries are my specialty. Which…is how Marcus and I met. I needed an art consultant on a case I was working on, and he’s the best of the best.”

"He is the best." She beams as only a mother can and grins. "Although, at one point, he wanted nothing more than the be a rock star with his band."

“I keep telling him he should start up again.” The grin you throw your husband is nearly victorious. You just know his mother is going to take your side. “A couple of guys in my department need a new bassist for their band and he would be perfect.”

"If he would enjoy it, I have his old bass in the attic." She supplies immediately. "There is no reason you shouldn't take it back with you. I know it's in good condition, I have to keep Kelly's oldest from sneaking it out of the house every time he comes over."

“What do you think, babe?” It’s entirely up to him, even if he never wants to join another band you still want him to have music in his life. “We can absolutely bring your bass home with us if you want to.”

"If you don't mind." His eyes slide towards his mother again, While it was his bass, it had been a last gift from his father and it was something that he could not take with him when he moved out for good. All of the kids had left the last gifts that he had given them in the house they had lived in with him. A kind of living memorial to a man who could never be replaced.

“It’s totally up to you, honey.” His mother promises. “Your brother has been hinting about his little girl being interested in Grandpa’s baseball gear when she’s old enough, so I think it’s time.”

He mulls it over, taking another spoonful of the chowder as he thinks. "I will take it home." He decides after a Moment. "It would be good to start playing again and one day—" His eyes slide warmly over to you. "Maybe it will be passed down to the next generation of Pike."

Julia raises one manicured eyebrow at that and gladly notes the way your expression turns a little dreamy at the idea. “I take it that topic has been bandied around a little at home?”

"We've talked about it." Marcus admits, setting down his spoon and picking up your hand. "We want to spend a little time together first, and figured that we would return to the conversation when I've settled into my new role." That’s what you agreed upon together, but Marcus won’t deny that if it happens sooner rather than later, he’ll be over the moon.

“I have to say.” The smile she aims at both of you is proud and bright. “It sounds like you’re enjoying being married, and that is half the battle in the beginning.”

"We are, Mom." Marcus agrees easily, squeezing your hand and looking over her with pure adoration in his warm brown eyes. "I had one hell of an example with you and Dad, and I think that we would make both of your proud."

******

Celebrating his long-overdue return to his hometown means that Marcus takes you to his favorite little family restaurant for dinner that night and by the time you’re falling into his bed, you’re both feeling relaxed and incredibly sleepy. Getting to see parts of his past is a window into his soul that you’ve never gotten before, and you curl around him in your pjs with a contended sigh.

Marcus has a habit of stroking your bare back until you fall asleep. Since you’re not sleeping nude tonight, his hand slides under your pajama shirt to touch you. “So what do you think?” He asks softly, wanting to know how you feel about his town where he spent his formative years.

“It’s the perfect little slice of Americana,” you tell him with a grin. “I can absolutely see you running around here as the happiest little kid in the world.”

“I had my teenage angst.” He admits with a chuckle, thinking back to how naive he had been about what was truly heartbreaking. “Like most kids do. Rebelled a little.”

"Grew your hair and became a little rock star?" The pictures of teenage Marcus with long curls and shredded t-shirts didn't last for a very long period of his teenage years, but they definitely seem to be among his most treasured memories.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.” He admits. “Almost got a tattoo. Although I’m lucky I didn’t have a scar when my nose ring came out.”

"I'm sooo bummed I missed that entire phase," you giggle into his side, having now seen a plethora of photos from Marcus's younger years. "I would've been all over you in high school."

“Yeah?” He hums, grinning into the darkness. “You would have been my little groupie?”

“Oh totally.” He sounds so utterly pleased that you giggle. “I would’ve been swooning at your feet.”

“I would have let you.” He admits, his fingers trailing up and down your spine. “Given you a private performance.”

Another giggle becomes a snort, and you rest your chin on Marcus’s chest to look up at him. “Your mother might not have liked me so much as a sixteen-year-old groupie, but I woulda been stuck to you like glue.”

“She was actually pretty cool with boyfriends and girlfriends.” He tells you. “She would have just made sure we were being safe.”

“Mmkay,” you hum and laugh. “So it would have been finding refuge here after my parents forbade me from seeing you anymore. Got it.”

He hums. “I could still impress the parents with my manners.” He promises. “No forbidding going on.”

“I just would have snuck out to see you.” It’s a fun little game of pretend to play, and you press a kiss to his chest. “Nothing could keep me from you, babe. We’re stuck like glue.”

“We are stuck like glue.” He smiles at you, ecstatic about that fact, that he’s gotten it right. “Me and you babe.”

******

On Sunday morning, his siblings and their families descend on the house early. All the Pike kids are morning people, apparently, and even more so when mornings include Christmas movies. The clattering downstairs is what wakes you, and you huff a groan into your husband’s side when you realize he’s silently stroking your back in your sleep. “Early.” You mumble, knowing it’s later than the time you get up for work but early for vacation wake up time.

“I know.” He’s eager to get downstairs, but he’s also eager to stay by your side. “But I know Mom will have coffee and fruit strudels downstairs.”

“Tempting.” But it’s not nearly as tempting as morning kisses, and you shift up the bed to snag some.

Marcus hums, smiling against your lips as he holds you close. “Morning.” He whispers between soft and sweet kisses. Enjoying the intimacy of the moment with you before the chaos begins.

“Morning, my love.” There are few things better than these quiet morning moments, and you savor them when you can. Work days are far too busy for cuddling so weekends are precious and holidays? Even more so.

“I’m so glad you agreed to come.” He admits quietly. “They are crazy and loud, but they are my family and I love them.” He grins. “Almost as much as I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Being held against his chest and wrapped up in bed with him is your safe place, but the morning is calling with loud voices so you place a kiss over his heart and stretch. “So exactly how many of your million cousins are coming today?”

“All of them?” He poses it as question and then laughs. “I think after the news I was bringing my new wife leaked, everyone decided to turn it into a family reunion.”

“Ahhh.” That makes you nod in understanding. “So it’s a really good thing that I packed nice clothes for this trip. Got it.” You had prepared for it, expecting to be a little bit on display, but you know how excited he is to be home. It made you want to work extra hard to make a good impression on his family.

“Don’t worry, they will absolutely love you.” He promises. His hand slides down and he pats your ass. “We need to get up and get the day started though.”

“Come on, handsome.” You haul yourself up with a groan after one more kiss. “Let’s get dressed.”

He chuckles as he watches you grumpily get up. You never like to leave a bed without a few good groans and it’s positively endearing to him.

“My body knows it’s a holiday,” you grumble good naturedly, as if you don’t groan about getting up for about three or four sentences every morning regardless. “It’s protesting.”

“Of course it’s protesting.” He shakes his head, climbing out of the bed with far more enthusiasm and starting to make the bed. “You would sleep for twenty-three hours out of the day if you could.”

“Only since adulthood.” Getting ready together is a nice, soothing little ritual and you pull your clothes out of your suitcase with precision. “When I was younger I could just go, go, go. But now?” You shrug and offer him a smile. “Why wouldn’t I want to be in bed these days? You’re there, too.”

He grins and winks at you. “You know, I think I like your thinking.” He flirts shamelessly with you, enjoying how easy it is.

“My logic is unflappable.” You boast, grinning at him and giggling, mood lifted immensely just by his smile. “But we need to get dressed, sir. You have a football game to play, if I remember my Pike family traditions correctly.”

“That’s true. It’s always best to come to the table with black eyes and bloody noses.” He chuckles and strips off his sleep shirt to pull on a sweatshirt.

“How do you expect me to function properly with the mental image of you being rugged and athletic and then the real image of you shirtless? It’s just unfair.”

He hums, smirking at the pouting tone of your voice and he bites his lip. “You’ll have a good view from the kitchen window.”

“Kitchen window?” Even though you know that’s where you’ll be most of the time — what with his mother loving to cook and his sister Kelly running a restaurant in the nearest city with two of their cousins — you still make noises. “My ass is going to be on that porch with a mug of something warm for a front row view.”

He snorts and walks back over to kiss you before he changes from comfortable boxers to more secure boxer briefs. Less chance of his brother ‘accidentally’ hitting him in the groin again this year. “Don’t worry, I’m sure all of you will be out there at some point.”

"I will be sure to spearhead that viewing party." You promise him before patting his ass with a smirk. "I will be watching very disrespectfully."

"What will I get when I score a touchdown?" He waggles his brows at you suggestively.

"Something that is not family friendly." And that is an absolute promise. "Now come on, handsome. I have a whole lot of Pikes to meet."

"Damnit." Marcus hisses quietly, reaching down to readjust himself in those boxer briefs before he slides on his sweats. "Now I want to go back to bed."

"Love youuuu," you sing-song, sashaying back across the room to your stack of clothes.

******

Downstairs is the general chaos that Marcus had expected and he's halfway down the stairs when he hears his brother Alex shouting. "SHUT UP, stop talking about them! They're coming!"

It throws you into an unexpected fit of giggles, and you have to pause mid-stair to compose yourself before hitting the ground floor just behind Marcus. "Nothing bad, I hope?" You ask, coming around the corner to where the living room, hallway, and kitchen are overflowing with your husband's extended family.

Alex, an older, slightly more rugged version of his younger brother with their mother's nose, grins at you. "Oh, just taking bets on if you were making a baby or freaking out about meeting this nut house of family members." He admits shamelessly.

"I am that dreaded thing known as a Night Owl," you admit with your hand on your heart, as if you were admitting to some dreadful sin. "It takes me a couple of extra minutes to get going in the morning. Nothing nefarious, I am sorry to report."

"Ohhhhh nooooooo, Marc – say it isn't so?" Clutching his hand to his chest, he looks at his brother in horror. Always the comically dramatic one of the bunch, he plays it up for all he's worth considering that the entire family is focused on all of you right now. He grins and winks at you just in case you aren't aware that he's not serious. "Take her back! Take her back to the wife store!"

"No returns." With a smirk and a smothered laugh, you wave your ring in the air —  earning you some whoops and hollers from the assembled women of the Pike family. "Now I'm gonna get some tea, you boys play nice."

"Damn, she's way too good looking for your ugly ass." As soon as you sail by him, Alex grabs Marcus and pulls him in for a bone crushing hug that only brothers can give. "Fuck, it's good to see you."

"We all missed you." His sister Kelly is on the other side of him immediately, smacking Alex's arm away so she can hug their baby brother.

"Miss you too." He laughs, looking over her shoulder as he hugs his favorite sibling. "You, not Alex." He clarifies and grins when his older brother shoots him a bird.

"No one misses Alex," she laughs, sticking her tongue out at the oldest of the Pike siblings with glee. In typical middle child fashion, Kelly had become loud and active and attention-grabbing in her own right. All of which might have also been a survival tactic for having two very individual brothers. "You're good, Marc? Not working too hard? Mom said they still haven't given you your damn promotion."

"It's coming." He promises with a nod of his head. "Right now, I'm just riding out my time as a flunkie so I can spend more time with my gorgeous wife instead of balancing department budgets late into the night." He tells her with a grin as his eyes slide over the kitchen, hoping for a glance of you.

"Ugh," his sister groans, fully teasing. "He's still in the honeymoon period."

"Hope it never ends." Marcus rolls his eyes when he looks back at her, but he's not lying. He hopes your marriage is just as strong as his parents’. They were in love until the day his father passed and still his mother will happily say that he is the love of her life.

"Gross." Alex chimes in, grimacing at his brother for full effect. It doesn't matter that he and Kelly are both happily married to supportive spouses that they love with all their hearts. They have to tease Marcus.

"Yep." Marcus smirks at his older brother. "She gave me cooties." He warns childishly.

"It's supposed to be the other way around, ya know." Alex ruffles Marcus's short hair and needles his younger brother with glee. "You're supposed to give her cooties. Or did you not pay attention in sex ed?"

He takes the ruffling of his hair with only a small groan and chuckles as he dodges another swipe. "Oh, I paid attention." He promises. "I'm a Boy Scout, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Alex rolls his eyes. "You never let us forget. Perfect youngest child with his perfect extracurriculars and now his perfect job." Though the older brother might gripe, they're all very proud of Marcus. It's just more fun to make fun.

"Don't forget, perfect wife." Marcus adds. As much shit as they give him, they were also his biggest support system when he was going through his divorce. They had kept him sane and he loves them for it.

"Do we call this 'the third time's the charm'?" Kelly asks, lightly teasing but so incredibly glad to see their little brother happy again. And happier, if this morning is any indication, than they've seen him with any partner before. "I'm gonna tell her all your most embarrassing stories while you guys are playing football. The ones that Mom doesn't know."

"I've already told her." He lies through his teeth, aware that he's not come close to telling you all his embarrassing stories, but he has to put on a brave front. Any and all fear will be utilized against him if he doesn't stand strong. Shrugging, he pretends to be unconcerned. "So go ahead."

"Gonna call your bluff, little brother," she announces before hustling off to find you in the kitchen.

"Shit." He hisses under his breath, dreading what stories she will spread. Alex chuckles and shakes his head. "You're in for it now, little brother."

The kitchen is a different sort of chaos on this Christmas Eve morning, but the sound of the kids watching A Muppet Christmas Carol in the living room is a welcome soundtrack to all the fuss. "It's their tradition," Julia is explaining to you, talking about the next generation of young cousins and their movie choice. "Their parents and some of the older siblings get in on the lawn football game, but they like to watch Christmas movies all morning until we're ready to break out the stuff to make gingerbread houses after lunch."

“Ohhhhh wifey.” Kelly trills as she floats into the kitchen, stopping by the fridge to pull out the bottles of Prosecco she had put in there when she arrived. “It is my duty as your sister-in-law – the best one – to ply you with alcohol and tell you embarrassing stories about my baby brother.” She grins as she holds up the bottle. “Now, OJ or cranberry juice?”

The laugh that bubbles out of you with Kelly's appearance is honest and light, and you finish your last sip of tea before attempting to speak. "It’s a little too early for alcohol for me, but makes yours with a little bit of both." The suggestion is full of absolute certainty and you add, "Trust me," when she tilts her head at you with curiosity. "One part OJ, one part cranberry, two parts bubbly. It's perfect. I’ll just have equal parts orange juice and cranberry juice for now. That’s also absolutely delicious."

“Alright…sounds pretty good. I’ll give it a try.” Her eyes slide over to Julia and she raises a brow. “Mom? Are you in?” She asks mischievously.

"You two have fun." Julia shakes her head, bowing out in favour of letting her middle child and the family's newest member have some one-on-one time. "I'm going to get lunch in the oven early, I think. So we can all relax a little."

“Of course.” Kelly rolls her eyes and looks at you with a grin. “You’ll love Mom’s lasagna. It’s a tradition.”

"I've heard nothing but amazing things." In fact, Marcus has been raving about his mother's cooking. "I hear it's on the menu at your restaurant, too? The famous family recipe."

Kelly nods and shrugs slightly as she snags two champagne flutes from the cabinet. “Still can’t make it as good as Mom can.” She admits shamelessly.

"That's Mom Magic," you hum, not quite admitting out loud that it's the type of magic you want to have one day.

“Also probably the secret ingredient that she’s not telling me about.” Kelly teases her Mom, knowing there’s no ingredient, but loving to rag on her.

"Patience," Julia tells her definitively as she starts to bustle around the kitchen again. "It's patience. And my kids all love instant gratification."

Kelly snorts as she pours the juices into the glasses. “Of course we do, Mom. Why do you think you have grandkids?”

"Could always use some more!" She sing-songs, glancing in your direction with a smirk before turning back to her task at hand.

“Mom, don’t scare her off by being greedy.” Kelly scolds her mother playfully. “If they want to give you more grandkids, they will do it on their schedule.” It’s important that you understand that they will tease and play but they will never be those obnoxious in-laws that demand you do things their way or give them what they want for your life. It was always what Marcus’s ex-fiancée had claimed, that they were too pushy, when they had just been asking questions about their future.

“It’s okay,” you assure both women, not scared off in the least. “We do want kids, just not quite yet. We’re enjoying the honeymoon period a little too much to want to change anything just yet.”

Even though you’re talking about her brother, Kelly grins and winks at you as she picks up her mimosa and hands you your juice. “Practice makes perfect, right?” She jokes.

It’s not even worth hiding your smirk or the mild embarrassment in your face, since she’s absolutely right. “Something like that,” you agree with burning hot cheeks.

“See? You’ll have more grandbabies in no time, Mom.” Kelly taps her glad to yours. “Welcome to the nut house.” She welcomes you. “We don’t bite…hard.”

If it was his friends instead of his family, you might tease that Marcus does bite hard, but his mother and sister don’t need to know about the tender marks on your inner thighs. “Thank you for having me,” you joke instead. “I’m very glad to join this particular nut house.”

“We are happy to have you.” Julia promises as she carefully covers the massive lasagna in multiple layers of aluminum foil. Not wanting the top to burn. Luckily, she had already put it together the day before so it’s ready to go.

******

You were warned about the football game. You really were. Marcus had tried to impress upon you how over-the-top he gets with his brother and brother-in-law and cousins. You had thought touch football on the front lawn was a sort of cute, insanely all-American tradition to have. Even in the snow it had sounded quaint. Now that they’re halfway through the game, though? You can see the people who really have fun with this tradition are the wives and girlfriends. The group of you are up on the porch with mugs of wassail either shouting encouragements or giggling to yourselves in appreciation of attractive men tackling each other (partially) for your amusement.

Even though it’s colder than hell, the men have nearly all removed their shirts. Panting and sweating as they try to their hardest to beat the shit out of each other for sport.

“I love football.” Alex’s wife chuckles when she comes up beside you and Kelly and hands you both iced gingerbread cookies.

“Pass interference!” Marcus shouts, shaking his head and huffing after his cousin shoved him out of the way. “That’s bullshit!”

“Forgot how to play dirty, Fed?” His cousin laughs it off, having discarded his Omaha Fire Department sweatshirt on the porch railing. “Fight back, Marcus!”

“Aren’t you the one who had to have a pack of peas on your nuts last year?” Marcus taunts back. “Thought you were gonna use those tiny peanuts to make a baby?”

“Twins on the way, baby!” The cousin – Ryan – cheers back, like somehow he was extra virile enough to cause twins, rather than it being entirely up to his wife’s anatomy.

“Alright, alright, focus up assholes.” Alex calls, bringing the two men back into the fold of the game. Good natured smack talk is all part of the fun, of course.

“He’s just mad he can’t throw.” Ryan shouts from the other side, grinning when Alex shoots him a bird. “Most interceptions of all the QBs.”

Shaking off the heckling with a laugh, Marcus waves at you and blows a kiss up to the porch as he jogs by to retake his position. “So you’re Marcus’s new…fiancée?”

You hear the question from elsewhere on the porch and you turn to face the speaker. “Wife.” It’s his cousin Ryan’s pregnant wife, of course, and you steel yourself with a forced smile. Marcus’s cousin Ryan had married his ex-wife years after the divorce. Honestly you can’t quite figure out how the whole family seems okay with it, but they are. “I’m his wife.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widen and her hand stops rubbing her rounded stomach. “That’s— I hadn’t heard! Congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.” She actually seems to mean it instead of having some underlying sarcasm, and that soothes you right away. “It was recent. I guess word is still getting around.”

“I’m sure Julia wanted to make a big toast tonight.” She bites her lip and sighs. “I’m Vanessa. I hope you don’t hold it against me.”

“Honestly?” A small laugh bubbles out of you, surprising you both. “I ought to thank you. If you hadn’t divorced him, then I could never have married him.”

Staring at you for a second, she grins back at you. “You’re welcome, then. Part of the cousin-in-law package.” She snorts. “Free of charge, of course.”

While you don’t think Marcus ever would have lied to you about what happened, it seemed a little too straight forward to you. Like maybe he was leaving something out to spare feelings, which is definitely something your sweet and generally gentle husband would do. “I hope it really was as painless as Marcus says.”

“Oh, Marcus was – is – amazing.” Vanessa insists immediately, having enough affection for Marcus that she is still willing and able to come to his defense. “We met freshman year of college, decided it was love, and didn’t have a clue what love really was.” She shakes her head. “We adore each other, just— as friends and not partners.”

“I admit, I couldn’t really understand why the whole family seemed totally fine with everything.” Deciding to be honest, you just shrug and take a sip of wassail. “But it only takes thirty seconds to realize that there’s no ill will, and that’s…it’s a big comfort.”

“I met Ryan when I was working on my masters.” Vanessa admits with a sheepish grin. “He had been in the military and deployed when I was with Marcus. I didn’t even know until we were talking about meeting the folks.”

“It would have been a very awkward surprise.” Being able to laugh together is a relief, one that you’re not going to take for granted at all. “I’m glad to see that everyone has ended up happy. That’s so rarely the way, and it’s a shame.”

“It is a shame and I hated that Marcus was having a rough go for a while.” She frowns fiercely and shakes her head. “I don’t know what that Lisbon lady was thinking but she could have done so much better breaking things off with him.”

“She doesn’t have the greatest reputation around the office.” You admit, though the whispers have gotten to you through backways, and only since you started seeing Marcus so you’re sure you only hear the bad stuff. “Either way, everyone is happy. That’s what matters.”

Vanessa nods after a moment, her frown turning into a smile. “I understand if you find it odd, or don’t like me on the principle that I’ve slept with your husband, but I hope we can be friends.”

"It doesn't make any sense to be upset with you over something that happened years before Marcus and I ever even met." Putting your hand out to her, the offer of a handshake is your formal show of a truce. No hard feelings. Not from your end. "I'm happy to be friends."

“Well, that went better than I ever hoped.” Amy admits, coming out of the kitchen with a fresh bottle of Prosecco. “Top off on mimosas, anyone? The juice content is getting a little high.”

A few people around the porch take her up on the offer, but you politely shake your head and decide to stick with wassail. The game seems to be wrapping up as well, which means it will soon be time to do the traditional Pike family Christmas Eve gift exchange before dinner. At some point Marcus's mother had read about the Icelandic tradition of receiving a book to read on Christmas Eve and loved it so much that it has become tradition.

“Whoever gets ’Beautiful Secret’….” Vanessa hums, waggling her eyebrows. “You’re welcome.”

"Welcome to the real tradition," Kelly jokes, looping her arm through yours as the group from the porch starts to pour back into the house in advance of the football players. "Most of the books exchanged between the adult members of the family are a little...saucy."

“Mom pretends she doesn’t know any of them.” Amy snorts, grinning knowingly. “But that woman has a stash of trashy romance novels from the seventies in the attics and somehow, those boxes are multiplying.”

"Marcus clued me in," you promise, following your two sisters-in-law inside. "I brought my best offering, I promise." The choice you made was very specific, and really has one recipient in mind. Even thinking about it just makes you nervous for what’s to come.

“Of course he did.” There’s a grin tossed your way. “Marcus was the one who was always reading Mom’s books when she wasn’t looking.”

"I'm not even mad about it." A laugh bubbles out of you that you don't bother to stifle, and you shrug. "It's purely educational for him, I swear."

“Ugh, I don’t want to know about my brother’s bedroom habits.” His sister shudders playfully before she points her finger at you. “As long as he’s taking care of you.”

“Oh, I promise.” He’s more than taking care of you. Marcus treats you like a queen. But Kelly doesn’t want to know that so you just smile and let the happy, hazy expression on your face do the talking for you.

“Ohhhhhhh.” All the women in the kitchen making a knowing noise and grin at you. “That answers that.”

“Answers what?” The oldest Pike sibling is the one to lead the charge into the kitchen and Alex makes his way over to his wife to kiss her before going for a bottle of Gatorade from the refrigerator.

“If your brother is taking care of his responsibilities.” The kiss is accompanied by a cheeky grin.

“I thought you couldn’t talk about the case yet?” Alex looks back at Marcus, who comes into the kitchen behind him.

Marcus frowns in confusion and props his hands on his hips as he catches his breath. “Huh?”

“Not that,” you laugh, reaching to give your sweaty husband a hug. “We were just talking about the book exchange and got a little off-topic.”

“Oh?” He eyes his sister and sister-in-law with playful suspicion. “Don’t believe a word they say.” He jokes.

“Sure, honey.” You snicker lightly. “But they should believe me.”

“Of course.” He scoffs, leaning in and dropping a soft kiss on your lips with a grin. “Federal agents are held up to a high standard.”

“Yes, we absolutely are.” It earns him another kiss, and those familiar butterflies in your belly that have been so active lately swell up again at just how much you love him.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower.” Marcus tells you. “Kicking ass made me sweaty.” He grins again.

“Hurry back.” Partly because you miss having him at your side, but also because it’s almost time for the book exchange, and you’re just as excited as you after nervous for that.

Marcus winks. “Of course, sweetheart. Ten minutes, tops.”

“Then we’ll start the book exchange in ten minutes.” His mother decides. And the kids can go first, just in case he takes a few extra minutes.”

“And so they are reading.” Vanessa snorts. “Less likely to pay attention to our books.”

“Probably better for everyone,” you agree, offering a smile and a knowing laugh.

******

Marcus is true to his word, bouncing down the stairs with wet hair and fresh clothes nine minutes later. The spicy, musky cologne he’s wearing is one that you picked for him and he loves it. “I’m back. So stop talking about me.”

“It’s only good things, babe.” When he plops down beside you in the living room window seat, he has a wrapped gift in his hand that looks like the size of a standard novel and it makes the thick volume in your lap feel even heavier. No turning back now…you remind yourself silently.

Mistaking your slightly tighter grip on the book as nerves, Marcus reaches over and takes your hand. “They love you, babe.” He whispers confidently. “My brother was already telling me he likes you more than he likes me.” It was a joke, but it makes him happy that you are so easily accepted into the fold.

“Alex seems easily swayed,” you tease, leaning into Marcus’s side. “All I had to do was promise to listen to all of his favorite embarrassing stories about you.”

“Thanks, creep.” Marcus scowls at Alex, pretending to be mad while his brother hams it up. “Anytime man!”

“Alright, alright.” Julia comes back into the living room with her own parcel in her hands. “Kiddos first. Everybody circle up!” The grandkids and cousins scramble to comply, all sitting around together knee to knee after strategically choosing who to sit next to like their lives depend on it. When Grandma Julia gives the word, everyone passes the book in their hands to the person to their left.

“Now. Exchange the book with the person across from you.” Julia grins as the shuffle starts.The kids eagerly comply, giggling gleefully, and then again when Julia tells them to pass their books two people to the right this time. Around and around, the books pass, each kid squealing when the brightly colored package they want gets closer. “Alright just two more moves.” She warns. The books get passed across the circle diagonally and then once more three people to the left before Julia says to go ahead and open their gifts, and then she turns to the adults with a grin. “Ours is less complicated,” she promises. She likes to get the kids riled up but the adults are always already so tired that she just turns on a Christmas song and announces that the game is ‘musical books’. “Just pass it to the right until I tell you to stop or the song ends.” White Christmas begins to play and you anxiously hand your wrapped book over to Marcus as they begin to go around the circle.

Marcus grins as the groaning from the adults starts. The jokes and the laughter as they try to shove the books into the person next them as fast as they can. “It’s fun!” He promises you.

It is fun. Or it would be, if you weren’t praying that his mother remembered her end of the deal that you made last night after Marcus had shooed you both out of the kitchen to wash up after dinner. You had admitted that your book gift was specifically for your husband and she had assured you that she would make sure it ended up in his hands. You just hope she sticks to that.

“Okaaaaaaaay.” Julia is watching the book like a hawk. Making sure that it’s close. “Aaaand…stop!” She orders.

Your heart leaps when the large book ends up in Marcus’s hands, and you breathe a deep sigh of relief. “Everybody open up!” Kelly laughs excitedly, but you can’t. Frozen in your seat beside your husband, you watch as he peels the carefully folded and taped wrapping paper to expose the bright yellow cover of the book you selected for him. At this point you’re just holding your breath, not realizing the entire room is watching you.

Marcus reads the book’s title and frowns for a moment. This was your gift. “I— babe?” He sputters, looking up at you with the most hopeful expression on his face.

“Open it,” you murmur softly, already starting to tear up at the light in his eyes.

“But you said—” he doesn’t want to admit how he had wished you had said you were ready when you kept saying it wasn’t the right time, but he wasn’t going to push you. “Okay.” Opening the book, he finally looks away from you.

The dated sonogram is staring him in the face when he pulls open the cover of We’re Pregnant! The First Time Dad’s Pregnancy Handbook accompanied by a handwritten note in the deep blue ink of your favourite pen.

“Meeting you was a surprise, falling in love with you was as easy as breathing. Marrying you came like wildfire, and now being parents is our next great adventure. The tiniest Agent Pike is expected in July.”

“Oh my God.” Marcus chokes out, barely able to breathe as he stares at the tiny little nugget on the picture. “Babe…we’re gonna be parents.” It hits him and the book is dropped into his lap as he surges forward to kiss you.

The entire crowd of Marcus’s family around you have exploded into a ruckus of gasps and shouts and cheering, but your world has narrowed down only to him. You’ve been sitting on this secret for two while weeks and barely managed to contain your own excitement. Sure, you had said you wanted to wait. To enjoy being married first. But that baby was having none of it. It bypassed your birth control like a champ, and from the moment your doctor told you it wasn’t stress or a seasonal flu running you down, you’ve been ecstatic.

“Baby, baby.” Marcus can’t help but giggle and grin against your lips as he kisses you over and over again. “I love you. So much. I can’t—”

“Breathe, baby.” And yet you can’t help giggling, breathless right along with him. “Can’t have you hyperventilating on me. We’re gonna have to get through a whole lot in the next seven months.”

“I— I thought you wanted to wait.” He shakes his head, trying to understand when this happened, how. Even if he logistically knows how.

“I thought I wanted to wait, too.” You shrug, though, laughing through giddy tears. “But I’m so excited, honey. I can’t believe I actually managed to keep it a secret.”

“Oh my God.” Marcus pulls you close, everyone around him fading to the background as he focuses on you. “I can’t believe you did either.” He admits, unable to stop beaming at you. “This is— you can’t ever top this Christmas present.” He decides with a laugh.

“Nope. Never.” Wrapped up in him is exactly where you want to be, but first you wipe the tears from under his eyes and press kisses to his cheeks. “But I have no problem with our first Christmas being our best.”

“I love you so much.” Marcus can’t even stop himself from caressing your stomach, in awe of the knowledge there’s your baby inside.

“I love you, too.” You’ve already lost track of how many times you’ve had your hand on your unchanged stomach since you found out about the baby, and you know that that’s only going to increase now that you can do it together. “And I love this little peanut so damn much.”

“You’re gonna be a Mom.” He chuckles. “And I’m gonna be a Dad.” He’s always wanted to be the father that his own was. Continuing the legacy of Pike dads.

“Merry Christmas, love.” Murmured against his lips, you kiss him one more time before his whole family descends on you with shrieked glee and hugs and a deluge of congratulations. Your first Christmas with the Pikes will probably never be topped, but that’s okay. It’s the perfect next step in your perfectly imperfect life.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #pure fluff #Christmas fic #all-American softie #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic

[monzamash]

it's impossible to win — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 2.5k summary – when you buy concert tickets with your ex but break up a couple of months before the gig, do you go or cut your losses? rating – mature (sexual references, coarse language) a/n – this was inspired by a lovely ask i received during my 2k celebration and based around the band alexisonfire x masterlist

just sent you the AOF tickets.

i told you to keep yours. you love them as much as i do. read

The glow of your phone was too bright, too harsh and so was the reality you didn’t want to face any time soon. You couldn’t keep them. How could you when the reputation of being the ‘notorious ex girlfriend of Daniel Ricciardo’ – man of the people, loved by millions shadowed you everywhere you went?

He was loved more than most and certainly more than you.

She was never good enough anyway; a parasite, they said when the news broke on the petty gossip pages, exposing that you and Daniel were no longer together, itemising every little detail of your downfall for the world to see. Those years of memories, years of loving privately disappeared and in its place were painful ones to heal. They were the best years of your life, or so you thought – blissfully unaware of the distance slowly growing between you and the man you loved more than most – but it wasn’t enough.

You weren't enough to fight for and especially not enough to love more than driving around a racetrack eight months out of the year. He was never there, out of sight and out of mind, leaving you battling for his attention. You weren’t cut out for it, simply put by him while on the other side of the world. It started as a late night phone call to ease the ache in your chest and to keep him close but he couldn’t have been further away. Physically and emotionally. Drifting.

“Babe, this is what you signed up for.”

“No, it’s what I tolerate – it’s what I sacrifice to love you.”

You broke down, knowing this was the end of your relationship and the only thing you could genuinely put your name to. You had lost yourself completely to his life, no longer something you could call your own. Abandoned dreams and forsaken friendships all so you could be there for him; drawn in to his world, naively consumed by his safety and the promise of a life lived together, not divided by oceans – lost to the fishes.

That was until you re-emerged from the lavish hotels and the private planes, sans Daniel – sans your soulmate. The day you ended that phone call, you knew he would be the hardest one to let go of; eternally the one that got away and the one relationship you would have to tell future boyfriends about. And they would probably gasp and ask, not the formula one driver? and you would have to nod and quash their insecurities because everyone loved Daniel.

But nobody loved him more than you do – did. Not even close.

“He said you should use the ticket and honestly, I don’t even think he’ll show up. He hasn’t come to anything we’ve organised since you two broke up – he’s not the kid we knew back in high school anymore… That’s why you dumped his arse, right?”

Right, but you couldn’t say that.

“I didn’t dump him. I just…” Just told him that he’s wasted the best years of my life chasing him around the world.

“… Said that if he couldn’t be there when I needed him or spent more than two seconds a year with me then I couldn’t do it anymore. And that’s it.” Well, not exactly.

“Sounds like a dumping to me and rightfully so. Look, I love Danny but he’s hard to be friends with, let alone pretending to be in domestic bliss with…”

Yes, but you respected Daniel too much to admit that. Hannah was his friend too, all of them were. You were kids all grown up, now adults wading their way through the treacherous seas of the real world, pretending like they had it all figured out. Ungracefully and riddled with anxiety but finally immune to bullshit and aware of what to expect out of an adult relationship.

The standards were higher now than when you were young and in love. Daniel was your childhood best friend, after all. Or more accurately, the boy you met on the first day of high school, all crooked teeth and bundles of frizzy brown curls. You were acne-ridden and shy, the weirdo girl, they called you until you became friends with Danny. He knew everyone and was loved by everyone – that was the one trait that had followed him through life.

He was the class clown and a cute distraction from the torture of high school but you weren’t the only one who thought so. Lunchtime quickly became your favourite part of every day because you got to sit beside him and eat your Vegemite sandwich, knowing all the other girls in your year seethed seeing you with him. 'That weird mole and Riccardo being friends doesn’t make sense' they’d whisper thinking you couldn’t hear them. But you could and they were right about one thing – you were only friends.

The slightest scent of a spring breeze reminded you of the hours you spent sat under the shady gum trees, watching him playing footy with the other boys while you fiddled with your walk-man and scratched the discs beyond repair as you changed them out, battling with the Sony aux chord that was hanging on for dear life by a slither of duct tape. You were fifteen when Daniel handed you a burnt CD with a hand-drawn skull in the shape of a heart and the letters AOF written in bold black sharpie, smudged from his impatience.

“What’s this?” You asked with squinted eyes, looking up at him and the blistering sun.

“The best fucking album you’ll ever hear.”

He told you years later that he was so proud of himself, thrilled that he was showing you new music. His competitive streak wasn’t exclusive to the karting track – no, it snuck its way into everything he did, specifically when it came to album recommendations and especially with you.

“It’s called Watch Out by Alexisonfire… you know, that punk band I said you would love. Give it a try. I promise it’s better than that fuckin’ Offspring album you won’t stop listenin’ to.”

“Well even if I do like it, I wont tell you now dickhead.”

But he was right. So infuriatingly right. You loved it, maybe because you loved him. He was your best friend, your closest confidante, your twin flame – all cheesy grin and beautiful brown eyes. Lips so full that whenever he spoke, you couldn’t look away. Dangerously entranced by your best friend. A label that haunted you every time it slipped from his tongue and one you desperately wanted to rip off like a band-aid.

You thought those feelings would be the kind of ones you'd painfully bury and take to your grave, heartbreakingly unrequited – until you found a hand-written note crumpled up at the bottom of the ripped CD sleeve. The blotchy blue pen and creases in the lined paper made it hard for you to read his distinctive, yet messy boyish cursive.

song 4 – side walk when she walks (made me think of you)

The sound of frantic clicking bounced off your lilac coloured walls as you skipped to track four; a spinning screech filled the anticipated silence before the sound of a melodic guitar filtered through the muffled headset.

Dressed to kill, you look so right I am drunk with lust tonight Your wounds are opening wide And they might be just my size

Warmth rushed to your chest, your neck and up to your cheeks when you realised what it all meant. And it wasn’t the last time Daniel made your body feel like it was on fire, sitting on his messy bedroom floor and kissing until you couldn’t breathe, the soft sounds of your new favourite band playing on his stereo – heart beating so fast you could’ve died, happily in his arms.

But you weren’t horny teenagers anymore and that memory was blurrier now than it had ever been. It had been muddied with all the sad ones, the fights and the tears – the irreversible emotional damage that you had done to each other. You weren’t a saint, god knows and you took full responsibility for your part and so did Daniel. But that was where it ended – in a seemingly amicable split.

No love lost, only misplaced for a while.

It felt like all eyes were watching you as you walked into the small club, ears already tingling with the reverberation bouncing off the blackened walls – if only they could talk. Musky bodies and the hint of cigarettes filled the air while your combat boots stuck to the floor with every step you took into the lion’s den, making your path to closure hard fought. Maybe it was a sign to turn back; anything could’ve convinced you to swing by the exit on your left until you saw him.

He was dressed head to toe in black with a cap securely pulled over his eyes, hiding away from the curious ones. In any other crowd it would’ve been a piss-poor disguise, so obviously him but he blended in with the dark walls and the growing crowd, all wearing the unofficial uniform of an elder emo – baggy sweater, ripped skinny jeans and torn up Vans. And you were no different.

"You made it!!", a friend greeted, pulling you into a rib-crushing hug while you took in the circling faces. There were a few you never thought you would see again, people who were only your friend by proxy and ones he’d picked up along the way. And it was clear by the way everyone greeted you that he hadn’t dragged your name through the mud, maybe he kept the details of the break up quiet like you.

But the reality for Daniel was that he was too broken to even process what had happened. He came home to an empty apartment after a double-header with no way to contact you, to make things right. Years and years of loving someone doesn’t disappear over night and he wasn’t entirely convinced that the couple of months you’d been apart was enough either. And he was right. The sharp pain in his chest and the way his hands shook when he saw you confirmed it. He was fucked.

“Fuck,” Daniel groaned and turned to his mate, “What am I doing here, man…” 

All he could do was let out a soft laugh and pat his friend on the shoulder, “You’re an idiot.”

Daniel readjusted his cap and let out a strangled, “I know.”

You promised your friend that you’d be fine, like water off a ducks back. All the side glances and murmurs meant nothing to you anymore, the insecurity you had now was nothing compared to when you were actually dating Daniel. Consumed in his bubble, unable to escape the crushing scrutiny. Another wag bites the dust, they said, gone with no explanation other than your obvious absence in the paddock.

It didn’t matter anymore; nothing could hurt more than losing him.

But you still felt it, bubbling away in the pit of your stomach. Years and years of loving someone doesn’t disappear over night, especially when you thought it would last forever. Nostalgia won the battle against the wound in your chest for a moment, still festering without treatment – knowing the only person who could heal it was miles away emotionally but was now in your line of vision. Seeing him in the flesh hurt more than you’d anticipated, more than you could’ve ever imagined. You still loved him, after everything.

The bubbles of excitement quickly dissipated and twisted into knots when you thought about what you had lost – a wave of anxiety washed over, churning away at any ounce of courage you’d mustered to even turn up to this stupid fucking show. You were cursing yourself, cursing your friend who had convinced you that he probably wouldn’t even turn up and that the odds were in your favour. She was so, so wrong.

“Ignore him and come dance.”

She was in damage control, dragging you away from the small gathering of friends and Daniel, who couldn’t tear his eyes away. His warm stare burned holes through your leather jacket as he watched you walk off into the crowd – and away from him again. It was becoming a habit of yours that he loathed. The house lights felt like a spotlight on your bruised ego but you pushed through the warm bodies, putting as much distance as you could between you and your past. The support band sounded great, mostly because it drowned out the soul-crushing thoughts swirling in your mind and brought you some much needed reprieve from your pity party.

You didn’t feel like yourself at all – you were the shell of the woman you used to be and you certainly weren’t the woman you wanted to show up as either. Strong, independent, single and thriving – you were none of those things, entirely the opposite in every way, so you had to dig deep and fake it. And you were a great actor but not tonight.

Not when you felt a gentle poke to your bicep. The lights rotating and strobing above made it impossible to see who was standing beside you, hand offering an icy bottle of Corona with a wedge of lime. It nearly slipped from your shaky fingers when you grasped it, whispering a soft thank you as the house lights went down and the swell of the surging crowd rumbled under foot.

“I wanted to have a chat but…” Daniel pointed to the stage, yelling over the drummer that had taken his rightful place behind his kit.

“Maybe later?” And you nodded yes, sending him a reassuring smile as the band began to play.

You could be diplomatic and hear him out – you owed yourself that at least and deserved closure from all the unanswered questions.

Daniel kept his distance, knowing he was in the wrong and that letting you go was the biggest mistake of his life. And it wasn’t long until his heart stalled in his chest when he heard that painfully recognisable guitar riff filter through the thick air, the one he couldn’t listen to without thinking of you and he could see the way your eyes glazed with tears when you heard it; the opening chords to the song he had dedicated to you all those years ago on that stupid burnt cd.

Maybe you missed him too.

“This ones called side walk when she walks.”

You reached down, without even looking and grasped his hand that was hanging loosely between your stiff bodies. Daniel interlocked his shaking fingers with yours and squeezed them as your head dropped to his shoulder, resting there while you both swayed to the music. You felt safe for the first time in months, comforted by his presence.

Of course you missed him. He was your person.

And this was your band; the band you shared together for over half your lives, their songs played while you fell in love with one another. They were the band you lost your virginity to, humming softly in the background and wishing that feeling would last forever. You remembered blasting ‘to a friend’ in the car on the way to your graduation and Daniel nearly getting pulled over by the cops, laughing until your sides hurt. And they were the band you would always save for your road trips along the coast, both there in Los Angeles and back home.

These were the songs that soundtracked your life with Daniel.

They were your band – and they’d brought you back together.

a//n – this was wildly self indulgent so if you hated it, let me know lol but also lmk if you liked it because i loved writing it x masterlist | askbox

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 writing #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #monzamashmasterlist #monzamash

[vellichorsmystique]

Tea in a Bar

⭒ Husk x gn!reader

⭒ w.c. ~1.9k

⭒ Meant to be read as a sort of pre-relationship ficlet. Just a silly little drabble I needed to get out of my system. Mainly fluff, implied (?) angsty undertones at some point, there is comfort.

⭒ No use of y/n... I mean Alcohol is mentioned? So fair warning for that, reader themself doesn't drink anything of the sort in this specific fic. No spoilers in terms of the Hazbin Hotel series.

⭒ A new sinner in the hotel only means another headache for Husk to endure as he listens through drunken rambles. However that doesn't appear to be the case as this specific sinner tends to just bask in his presence. There's not much to go on, and as much as he should be wary of them, he can't help but be intrigued.

The newest guest is strange. The thought brazenly bounces around Husks skull, as he discreetly flashes a few wary glances at the figure sitting at the bar top. He elects to ignore the fact that today's version of “discreetly” translated into occasionally looking up (to oogle) from the glass he had currently been wiping dry before peering back down. He also decides not to fixate on the truth that this is the same shot glass he had picked up an hour ago. 

It’s uncanny really, how can you sit there so serene, eyes closed in something akin to bliss? Husk is openly staring at you once more, mouth slanting into some sort of neutral frown, as you shifted in your spot on the flimsy stool. Every night without fail since your first appearance at the hotel, you seemed to have made it your personal goal to purposely confuse him. Why? He has absolutely no clue. His proof? Non-existent. 

That wasn’t even the infuriating part, it was merely the fact that your actions were definitely not motivated by some extrinsic goal, it wasn’t like you actively had it out for him. Husk prided himself on his exemplary skills of reading people and while there was this air of mystique that surrounded the likes of you (all too comfortably familiar to the source of his chained ire) you weren’t trying to usurp his current life. At least not in the moment that is. 

Before he can grumble internally about the stupid predicament he found himself in he becomes all too aware of the warmth of your scrutiny. Damn, sure he was doing a piss poor job at sneaking peeks at you, but he didn’t actually think you’d catch him. However something about the mirth swimming your eyes clues him in on the embarrassing fact this probably was not your first time catching him. Your lips curl into a light smile, the corners barely twitching at what he assumed to be withheld laughter. 

“Is there something wrong?” Your words are less of a question and more of a tease which only prompts a withering glare in your direction. Almost foolishly he hopes it’s enough to ward you off, it’s not of course, and he’s proven once more how futile it is for a sinner to do something as silly as hope. Unperturbed by his nasty stink eye, you rest your head in your palm and raise a brow in goading fashion. Ear twitching he goes back to dutifully swiping the glass held in his paws. 

“Nothing, just stuck wondering why there’s a fucking weirdo sitting at my bar?” You have the gull to wave him off with a bark of laughter. 

“Me? Weirdo? Unlikely,” His brow furrows at that as he flashes you an unamused look. 

“More likely than you seem to think, who sits at the bar hours on end, and doesn’t order anything to drink,” He tried to keep up with the insult, however as he rasped out the words, he couldn’t hide the genuine curiosity that filtered in the latter half of his statement. Your laughter subsides, and you idly trace a fingertip on the grains of  the bartop, lips quirked in gaiety. 

“Touche, but I raise you this, who uses a dirty rag to clean their glasses?” Subject change, of course, he honestly shouldn’t be surprised. 

“That–’ and he raises the shotglass higher more forcibly twirling the gunk filled rag around on the inside, ‘is very much intentional,” 

“Hmm, and that is exactly why I don’t get drinks here,” Grinning you leaned back on the stool, palms flat against the wooden top as you loosened some sort of crick in your neck. Your tone is too pacifying and he doesn’t buy it. Nose scrunching he rolls his eyes, before resting his forearm on the bar, brows raised knowingly at you. 

“But that’s not the reason,” And there it is, the enigmatic grin that should probably push him away instead of drawing him in closer. Something swims in the depths of your eyes, something that one day he’ll decipher, but for now whatever you're hiding under lock and key stays indiscernible for today. 

“No it’s not,” You echo demurely. He groans, he was too sober for all of your mental gymnastics. The conversation lulls for a moment or two before you tilt your head towards the array of spirits and liqueurs  behind him.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any sort of tea?” Tea? Seriously? He doesn’t waste breath looking, instead just briskly focusing on his task at hand.

“No, this is a bar– not some sort of fucking cafe,” Sighing almost wistfully you slide off the barstool, and he regards your actions in surprise. 

“What a shame, it’s getting late anyways I think now is a good time to start turning in for the night regardless,” He grunts, blinking slowly, was that what it took to get you to leave? Tail cutting through the air, he shrugs his shoulders brushing the thought away. It’s not like he cared that much…. 

“Oh and Husk?” Your voice takes a suspicious lilt that has his ears twitching. 

“Despite your choice of dish towel I’m pretty sure that shot glass is clean enough, you’ve been holding it for what– an hour now?” He slams the aforementioned glass on the grainy top as your laughter fades, but the worst part is he’s not even annoyed by the fact you were aware. Yeah… you were a really fucking strange guest here. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

You take longer than normal to come sit at the bar. He ignores the discomfort that prickles at the realization. Just when he decides to go ahead and begin the methodical process of closing everything up for the night, he hears the lobby doors open. The sound echoes in the expanse of the empty lobby, and finally through slitted irises he can make out your silhouette tiredly plodding through. 

Back and shoulders hunched, you look withdrawn, a total one-eighty from your normally exuberant personality you always seemed to have when you pestered(read: visited) him. Footfalls heavy, the bar stool croaked when you finally settled over it. Yawning, your upper half pitched forward, and you pressed your face into your crossed arms on the table. 

“‘llo Husk,” the words are a mumbled and muffled mess emanating from the crook of your arm where your head was buried. If it weren’t for the ear he had angled in your general direction he probably would not have picked up on it. Frowning, he glanced down at his paws. Today was different, you never seemed like the type to “showcase” your more or less weak spots where others could see? Something in the sinner’s chest seizes up. Was this an inadvertent form of trust? Deciding not to dwell for too long on the implications for such an idea, he instead coughs out loud into his fist. Rather dramatically. 

“The fuck’s up with you?” And he hates the fact you’ll notice the bite gone from his voice. Almost petulantly your shoulders rise and fall, a vague impression of a shrug due to your current position. 

“Alright, not in a talking mood then, fine,” He gets it, and he wasn’t going to push or prod your boundaries just to satiate the itch of curiosity. Peripherals catching the tell tale sign of movement his slit pupils lock onto your own irises from where you angled your head to the side in order to properly look at him. Expression almost distraught, he can only watch the way you tug your lip against your teeth internally battling over something. Before you sniffle and rasp out quietly. 

“I just… don't want to be alone in my room right now,” The admission is point blank, no allusions, or disarming smiles to disguise the truth. Some remote part of his brain will probably play the vulnerability of this moment on replay when he’s alone in his bed, with a pillow to bury himself into. For now, he elects to breeze past the info, mentally tiptoeing around whatever aftershocks your bombshell just resulted in. 

“Well if ya don’t want to talk, then maybe you’ll want a drink instead,”  Your expression twists, and you move to sit up some sort of reply building on the tip of your tongue, before he is turning his back to you. When he’s facing you once more your eyes widen to see not a shot glass in his hand, but a teacup. It’s humorous really, the cup disproportionate to the size of his clawed fingertips, still he holds the most likely plastic chalice like it’s fine china. 

All too soon the cup is waiting to be sipped from in front of you, and Husk is left to tap a claw rhythmically as he waits for you to taste test it. You hands wrap reverently around the drink, and you bring it up closer in order to properly take a whiff. As you nurse the steaming cup in your grasp he can make out the light aroma of apples and some more floral notes. With his freehand he scratches at the fur on his nape, prickling as he awaits your verdict. 

“It’s uh…”

“Chamomile,” You softly answer for him, still entranced by the liquid.

“Yeah, that,” When you finally look at him your eyes are wide and mouth parted ever so slightly; you were looking at him as if what he just handed you was a free get into heaven ticket, and not some mediocre tea he had made in wait for you to arrive. He breaks eye-contact, blood roaring in his ears as goes back to tapping some sort of melody on the wood. You finally bring the vessel to your lips savoring the taste of the tea, and a syrupy sweet grin inches across your expression. Husk finds the grin to fit better than that frown from earlier. 

Tea long since finished, he found himself caught in idle chatter as he scrubbed away the days worth of muck and stains. This time armed with a moderately cleaner rag thanks to your insistence. Tone impossibly fond you spiel your thanks once more.

“Really Husk, thank you, the tea was the perfect pick-me-up,” 

“Ah, quit blowing it out of proportion. I didn't do much,” You only laugh once more at his vehemence in not accepting your gratitude. Humming thoughtfully, you straightened up as an idea struck. 

“You know…Chamomile is absolutely divine when mixed with Vodka,” Husk sends a prudent glance in your direction. Though you can practically see the interest he has in the idea with how he paused everything he was doing. Almost in accusation he raises an offending claw. 

“I thought you didn’t drink?” the cheeky grin you reply with almost has him roll his eyes. 

“I never said I didn’t, I just prefer my spirits mixed with tea. They tend to mesh deliciously,” The corners of his lips lift into a barely there crooked grin as he shakes his head. 

“No I guess you didn’t” he echoes in reply.  Before you leave, much later compared to the past, you mention something about green tea and whiskey. A combination he would have to try tomorrow when you would decide to visit the bar. Distantly he found himself looking forward to what would undoubtedly be more visits from you. All for the tea and booze of course…. And maybe just maybe you too.

⭒ end notes: guys I'm so rusty-- ignore any and all spelling/grammar mistakes it's almost 3am as of posting, and I have a 9am lecture tomorrow. Honestly HH has like become my new hyper fixation so maybe I'll write some more stuff for it we'll see. If not, guess I'll see ya'll again in nine months when I'm suddenly struck with the urge to write something </3 /hj I definitely want to be more active and make more indulgent things so I look forward to it!!

#Hot off the press #husk x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #fluff #comfort #gender neutral reader #x reader #Husk isn't even my favorite #I just had the visceral urge to get this out of my system :sobbing;

[cursedcola]

A Hopeless Lovestory: Malleus Draconia x Reader

A/N: Piggybacking off of my “Malleus is exactly like Gomez Addams as a partner,” post. Why? Because I will die with this. This is Malleus, or at least my interpretation of him. Yes yes, I love picturing him as the cute dorky fae that’s behind with tech times and wants friendship. It’s cute. But this? This. I stand with. Man lives in Victorian Fae land, surrounded by dark magic, will never work a day in his life, and is a hopeless romantic. This is my tribute to how much of a SIMP Malleus is.

From the moment he saw you, he was utterly entranced. Naturally he hid his affections for a time, as a man only grovels when given permission. He had not once yearned for another until you. Never felt  blood run through his veins like wildfire against his cold skin. Merely being in your vicinity makes him wish to be in constant contact

The moment you appeared in the outer garden that fateful night. In his once secret escapade, surrounded by fireflies and gleaming with an otherworldly aura. He did not miss the fear in your eyes at his appearance, yet you did not fear him - no, you were merely startled.

Yet for a brief moment, his heart shuddered in tune with your surprised yelp. The way your cheeks flushed a brilliant hue and pupils doubled in size. Lips slightly parted and a bit chapped from the crisp night air.

Vulnerable. At his mercy. In that moment Malleus knew, he would soon court you.  

He merely bides his time, waiting painfully long for you to discover his true identity. Yet, love is torture. Sweet, blissful torture that he absolutely relishes in. Your words ebb at his heart with a searing blade and it feels divine.

"Tsunotaro" he wants to hear his name, Malleus, fall from your lips. Yet the pseudo-name is a badge of honor, and he wears it pridefully.

The day comes when you find out his identity - and he wastes no time in requesting your courtship. You do not understand the absolute agony he has undergone while waiting. To not openly love? A sin. Not the Briar Valley way, and surely not befitting of a Draconia. He has passed the first trial of waiting for your hand, and now is willing to be destroyed further on the path to becoming your lover.

and yes, courtship is necessary. He would ask permission of those you hold dearest, as is noble custom. Alas, you have come to Twisted Wonderland alone and so -

Ah - - the feral beast and first-year guardsmen do indeed exist. Alright, merely another hurdle to prove his love. He will shower them all with riches and offerings to win their approval. If that does not work?

Well, the Draconia do not give up. He is not adverse to more, let's say, macabre methods of welcoming them into his inner circle. Pray tell Sir Grimm, will unlimited tuna suffice or would you like to decide the matter over chess? Oh no, not the boorish tabletop game. Malleus was thinking along the lines of live-action; where is the fun without a little adrenaline rush?

Your world is suddenly turned awry. Every meal is prepared with the highest quality ingredients, a new jewel adorns your figure every day - if it shines too bright, he discards it for over shrouding your beauty. If it is too dull? He scorns the seller for thinking such dreary gems could we worthy of touching your skin. Fresh flowers coated in pixie dust appear at your door every morning, and make your entire body glisten when tucked behind your ear or in your hair.

Any interest you have he is suddenly a connoisseur in. Even if it is not something he enjoyed before, now he does because you love it. As money is no obstacle, he often funds your hobbies while hiring private tutors to become involved. You enjoy gardening? Suddenly, he is raising many Venus fly traps. They remind him of your relationship, and how you managed to lure him in just enough to strike. To you, he is merely one possible prey in thousands. To him, you are an irresistible temptation that he willingly offers himself to.

You enjoy art? Allow him to take you on a tour of all the paintings in his mansion. You can admire them together, sipping on light alcohol and existing under the dim moonlight shining through the open windows. Allow him to paint you. He will practice for hours to get every feature right, and will allow no other to attempt. Only he can stare at you for so long.

What of music? Would you be willing to waltz on the day, across the velvet carpet of his bedroom floor as music drifts in from the orchestra in the garden. Lay your head against his chest as he hums along, listening as the vibrations of his vocal chords mix with his erratic heartbeat - which can only be steadied by your gentle caress.

or do you take to sport? He is quite the active fellow. Apprehensive to dangerous activities, his heart stills as you fly through the air racing on your broomsticks, nearly running each other out of the sky. Or as steady jabs hit too close to dangerous zones during swordplay.

Yet the fright is exhilarating all the same, keeping his lust for your company alive

He is at your beck and call. As he will be your king.

Malleus continues with his courtship until the end of your final year at Night Raven College. His graduation occurred long prior, yet he spends more time at the school than at Briar Valley.

"A moment without you is a moment spent in purgatory," no noble or advisor could keep him in the valley beyond his duties. Even then he did not want to perform, and often was caught penning lovesick letters to send your way. A master magician turned into a functionless machine.

Said advisors dared not to question their master's choice. Not after fair warning from general Vanrouge and threats of the Draconia bloodline running dry.

After graduation awaits a carriage. At the coach's seat is Silver, sitting atop your favorite cheeky murderous vampire (soon to be step-father), and in front is Sebeck. The moment you step outside all three are kneeling at your feet with one hand on their chest.

Out steps Malleus, eager to welcome you to life beyond NRC walls. With a vast new world to explore, he senses your wings just beginning to spread for flight. It is then he strikes, dismissing his found family and kneeling at your feet. He takes your hand and produces a singular blood-red rose from thin air. Thorns still attached and stem long. He holds it out and requests you as his lover.

"I dare not clip your wings at first flight, yet can I trust in your homecoming to my side on land?"

You take the rose gently from his fingertips, and as the thorns prick your skin he smells fresh blood. Another trail surpassed, and he cannot fathom a life without you in it. Still kneeling on the floor, he takes your hand and places a soft kiss on each knuckle.

You become the lover of the future king. His weakness, and bargaining chip. Malleus's devotion to you is unquestionable and known throughout his entire kingdom. You would one day become their (King/Queen/Ruler), and any who dared to speak against it were snuffed before rumors could reach your ears

Malleus has his study extended to accommodate two. It is the only way he works proficiently, guided by the sound of you going about your own responsibilities across the room. He'd prefer you to never lift a finger - for you to be spoiled. Alas, you insist and who is he to deny? Especially when you are studying his native tongue to better communicate with his people

Well, that is the reason you gave. He knows better.

“Mon amour, je t'adore. Je tuerais pour toi. Je mourrais pour toi. Quoi qu'il en soit, c'est le bonheur”

Malleus insists on speaking to you in French. Not only because it is the language of his people, but because he delights in the way it sends a shiver down your spine. Your unhinged pleasure from the vibrations of his voice as he places kisses along your arms - he knows what it does to you.

After all, it has the same effect on him. Whether you reciprocate in his preferred language, or another that you've chosen to study. Somehow he knows exactly what you're saying (magic? who knows)

He cannot share lodgings with you quite yet. Ever the gentlemen, his desire must remain curbed until the day comes when he can chain you to his soul forever. Yet he knows you are not prepared for the process

Yet he does not hold back from sharing his displeasure on the matter. Every night ends with heated kisses at your door. His hands roaming everywhere you’ll allow as he pecks incessantly from your eyes to your cheek to your collar. Torturing himself, knowing that he must let you go in the one room he cannot enter. 

You are escorted everywhere in briar valley by him personally or his family. Malleus does not trust anyone other than himself, Lilia, Silver, or Sebeck to keep you safe and happy. His stubbornness has lead to government officials begging you to pacify him, or at least make him complete his work before going out 

If you eye anything for the briefest of moments while out, it is being purchased and sent to your living quarters. He has instructed this of the other three as well. 

Fresh flowers are cut each morning by his hand. They are arranged in a vase of his choosing and sent to your room along with breakfast. Malleus does not miss a day, and each arrangement has a specific meaning in the language of flowers. He feels extra smitten when you guess correctly. 

When at your side, you are his priority in all aspects. If it begins to rain then he enchants a waterproof bubble where you sit. If the ground is dirty, he would rather you step over his coat than tarnish your shoes. If you become tired then he will carry you throughout the kingdom without shame, be it on a stroll or flight. If you wear glasses, then he will always carry a handkerchief for you to clean them. 

If you say his tie looks lovely, then suddenly it is his favorite item in the world and he has five exact replicas. 

When you share a meal together, he offends his butlers by tending to your every need. Pulling out your chair, pouring your drink, and you are always seated at his side no matter if it is a social gathering or just the two of you 

Eventually there will come a day where not only are you a necessity for him, but for his people. When his self-fulfilled prophecy finally becomes reality and his final act of service begins 

For Fae, everlasting partnership begins with a quest. The more difficult the quest, the more bountiful the union will be. He had been biding his time for the day you’d ask something of him, and you did not disappoint. As future partner to the King, he would need to complete a life-changing quest in order to wed you 

Malleus once again finds himself in a firefly filled garden behind a rickety old dormitory. With stone gargoyle's glaring down at him from each corner, he presents you with the one thing no other in Twisted Wonderland succeeded in doing 

A gateway to your homeland. A mirror taken from the very room you once called home. How funny that the most confounded things end up coming with the simplest answers 

He gets on one knee, placing the mirror at your feet and pulling a ring from his breast-pocket. Its gem is fashioned from a piece of his personal mage stone, glowing bright green in contrast to the obsidian band it rests within. 

“On this night, I ask you to become my beloved. For eternity, until the stars fall from the sky and magma scorns us beneath the earth’s crust. Choose now, to join me in the future or dwell in the past. Know that my heart will beat only for you, in this world or any other,” 

Love is pain. A sin. Punishment. Malleus accepted this pleasureful agony the day he laid eyes upon you. He has placed you above all worldly desires. 

Now he asks for you to do the same. Destroy the gate you have been searching for and tie your life to his. His quest. 

He watches in satisfaction as your foot cracks glass, and slides the ring upon your finger with ease. He eyes the jewel with eyes full of love, knowing that you will never part. 

#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #stg if you want something written then you gotta do it yourself

[siempre-bucky]

golden barn lights

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

summary: After your elopement, you and Jake head to Texas for his family's ranch party. You keep your relationship a secret, not wanting to steal his mom's thunder, but Jake finally gets you alone for a dance outside.

wc: 2.2k

an: wow, look at me not giving jake daddy issues....enjoy.

Jake was thankful for the traffic on the dirt road that led to his family’s ranch. His hand rested on your thigh, his fingers tapping along to the Patsy Cline song coming from the speakers, emerald colored eyes flashing between the car in front of him and the changing colors of the trees. The traffic meant more alone time with you, delaying the arrival of the town’s prodigal children.  

“You have a pretty voice,” you said warmly, your head resting against the glass. You watched the fall colored leaves fall from the trees that blocked the golden sun, smiling to yourself as a rust toned leaf got stuck in the window. 

His pink lips upturned in a genuine smile, you always knew by the soft lines that formed around his mouth. You turned your head to look at him, and just as you figured, a soft pink blush dusted his cheeks. “You did that on purpose, darlin’,” he groaned, his eyes catching your smug grin. 

“I suppose,” you responded nonchalantly, the smirk you wore told something different. Jake grimaced as the long line of cars started to move. Shifting in your seat, you moved his hand off your thigh and intertwined your fingers. Goosebumps formed on his arm as the cold gemstone of your engagement ring grazed the bare skin of his finger. All you could do was smile and place loving kisses on his knuckles. 

Every year, for a few weeks in October, the Seresin Ranch would open its large iron gates to the public. The pumpkin patch and hayrides were something out of a cheesy romcom, and Nora Seresin ate it up. She made sure the grand opening night would be over the top as soon as she found out her beloved son would be coming home just in time, his best friend right beside him. He recalled something about a new fall themed garden from one of their phone calls. The town was buzzing as soon as word spread. 

Oh if only the town knew. 

“Ready?” Jake asked as he finally pulled into the garage, the truck’s engine a soft rumble. 

The solemness in his features didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did yours. His gaze was trained on the silver band that wrapped around his ring finger. “I’m not ready to take it off,” you matched his glum tone, looking at the slender silver wedding band on yours. 

It was a couple of weeks of bliss; Jake running from his plane, wrapping you in his arms, and begged you to marry him after the almost suicide mission. At first, you thought it was the adrenaline and the cheering crowd on the carrier that boosted his ego, but then he pulled out a ring when the moon took its place in the sky. With phones turned off and lips sworn to a temporary secret, you and Jake shared promises and a loving kiss in a quaint courthouse. 

Jake removed your rings and you removed his before he placed them carefully in the glove compartment. “We’ll tell them tomorrow,” he repeated his promise as the two of you exited the truck. You smoothed down your sundress (you praised mother nature for the perfect Texas fall weather) giving Jake enough time to round the vehicle and guide you to the barn across the path. 

“When my family comes over for breakfast,” you added, smiling at the people happily roaming the ranch. 

“Ma will kill me if I ruin her moment,” he chuckled. It was common knowledge that no Seresin liked their thunder stolen, and what a doozy would it be to announce the elopement of childhood friends. 

Jake’s hand itched at his side as you two walked, his fingers twitching at the feeling of your empty hand next to him. He’d grown accustomed to having you close, fate being an unlikely friend and placing you beside him at every point in your Navy career. He’d always known you, it was hard not to in such a small Texas town. Typically, the whole town would cheer for a pair of best friends falling in love, mothers would roll their eyes and shake their heads while fathers would playfully place bets—it never happened to the two of you. No bets, no playful remarks, surely it came out of nowhere like Jake’s plane emerging from the clouds to save Rooster and Maverick’s lives. 

The large red barn came into view, golden light pouring from the open doors and windows, lively country music coming from the band inside. “Save me a dance?” you asked him playfully as you spotted your parents speaking with his own. 

He grinned and shot you a wink, “Sure, baby.” 

It didn’t take long for a pair of joyous squeals to ring out. You and Jake stood in front of the doors for a whole two seconds before your mothers hugged you and squeezed the daylights out of you. “Hi, mom,” you managed to get out, patting her back. 

“Son,” Jacob Seresin Sr. laughed pridefully, clapping a large hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Good to see you back. I’m proud of you son.” A warmth spread through him, his heart probably couldn’t feel fuller in that moment. His wife wrapped in the arms of his beloved mother, his father speaking about him in such high regard to everyone that would listen—he took a moment to soak it in. He’d lie if anyone asked why his eyes were glossy. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so happy you’re here,” your mother cooed, cupping your face to check for cuts and bruises. 

“Me too, mama,” you giggled, playfully shaking your head to get out of her motherly grasp. 

“Enjoy the event, kids,” Jacob chimed in, raising his amber colored bottle in the air and pointing in the direction of the interior. 

Jake was about to pour out a string of compliments of the event, but then an older woman rushed over; rushing as much as she could for a frail eighty year old woman. She looped a veiny arm around Jake’s and dragged him with a surprising amount of force, muttering something about spiked punch and her granddaughter. He looked back at you with a dramatic pleading face, making you giggle and bite down on your lip to prevent a wide grin. 

Much to your and Jake’s disappointment, that was the last time you interacted the entire evening; whisked away by military veterans dying for a good mission story and older women trying to set you up with their sons and daughters. The band’s country music reverberated off the walls, you smiled, and the mix of elegance and coziness that Jake’s mom was able to achieve. 

You were having your ear talked off by some of your old high school girlfriends, gushing about recent engagements and promotions. Their words sounded fuzzy, your attention was set on the corner of the room which was occupied by a few guys in flannel. Normally that corner was home to loose hay covering the floor; Jake kissed you there for the first time when you were younger, a few days away from leaving for flight school. He threw you into the hay, and you grabbed his wrist to pull him down on top of you. You managed to recall every shade of green and fleck of gold in his irises as he looked at you longingly until they became blurry from how close he got. Your lips still managed to tingle in remembrance. 

He’s alone, you thought happily as you caught his stare, his eyebrows raised hopefully. You uttered a lame excuse and started to cross the large floor to him. The blond started to rise from his seat, ready to give you that dance. An older woman patted your arm, pivoting your direction as she guided you. 

Jake sat back down. 

You shrugged and weakly smiled. 

The dances continued, and the same stories began to shift and change as exhaustion set in. You and Jake almost gave up in trying to find each other after the fourth line dance. His patience wore thin when he reached for your hand but was grabbed by another, and that string almost snapped when the lady with hair as high as the heavens said her daughter was single. Doin’ this for ma, he thought bitterly to himself with clenched fists and gritted teeth.  

There was an ocean of people between you, the opposite walls of the barn holding the two of you up. His eyes locked with yours and your body began to relax. He motioned his head towards the back door, a small smirk on his handsome features. Eagerly nodding your head in response, he walked with urgency towards the wood door. 

Jake finally drew in a breath of relief as darkness covered him like a comfortable blanket. The cold air soothing his lungs, he looked to the sky, breath stolen by brilliant stars. Nothing could compare to the stars in a cloudless Texas sky, not even the ones on a carrier in the middle of the ocean. 

“Jake,” you whispered into the night. His lips immediately turned upward, his gaze looking for you in the dark. He could always pick you out in a crowd and even in the dark; he knew the way you walked, how you held yourself, and your silhouette was something he prided himself on memorizing. 

“You know,” he spoke confidently, making you jump at the volume, “I’ve been waitin’ to get you in my arms all night.” 

He heard you giggle shyly, then he felt your hands press against his chest and slid them down his abs, nails gently dragging along the material. Your hands finally rested on his back, the side of your face pressed in between his defined pecs. “I got three marriage proposals, what about you?” you murmured ss he began to sway from side to side. The same Patsy Cline song he heard from the car now being played by the band, he hummed along before he replied. 

Jake laughed and pressed an amused kiss to the top of your head. “Five. I’m in demand, baby.” 

You shifted in his embrace, worming your arms around his neck and he instinctively gripped your hips. “I have competition,” you joked, looking up. His features were barely visible in the darkness. 

He scoffed jokingly, gently slapping your hips. “Far, far from it. You’re the only one that could get a ring on my finger.” 

“Sap,” you chuckled, rising on your tiptoes to kiss him. Hours without one of his sweet kisses felt like years to you; blame it on the newlywed bliss. His warm hand slid upwards, leaving goosebumps in its wake before he managed to cup the nape of your neck. Your eyes fluttered close, focusing on his touch.

Something illuminated the darkness, making your nose crinkle. Golden lights flickered on, before finally lighting up the space behind the barn. You and Jake’s lips finally parted, still wrapped up in each other's arms as you observed. Fairy lights littered the space, wrapping around large sunflowers and corn stocks while larger lights were hung in the air like a big top tent. Before the fear set in, you thought your husband looked beautiful and he thought the same of you. 

He looked towards the barn, blood turning cold as he saw his mother with her dainty finger on the light switch. Her signature Seresin smirk was displayed proudly, the shake of her head made a heat rush to your face. “Ma-” 

“Save it,” she snickered, waving him off. “I got eyes, son.” 

Jake sheepishly pulled away from you, his fingers twitching. “There’s something we gotta-” 

He was cut off once more, this time by you, “We weren't ready to tell anyone.” He looked down at you in surprise, his lips slightly parted. He was more than ready to tell her about the elopement. 

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” she sighed with a smile, nodding in understanding. “When Jakey came home from his first day of sixth grade talkin’ about a girl in math class. I just knew you were bound to go steady.” 

You and Jake chuckled. “This is still her moment,” you whispered, “We’re not ready for one of her stern talking tos.” 

“Y’all have a nice night,” she winked before going back to the party. 

After a few breaths of relief, Jake took you back in his arms. You hummed at the warmth and nuzzled your face back into his chest, smiling at how fast his heart was racing. "We could have told her," he mumbled. 

"I kinda wanna savor this a little longer." You responded, holding him a little tighter. Jake laughed and put the side of his face on the crown of your head, gently moving you to the music. 

"Till breakfast?" 

"Over your mom's pumpkin pancakes." 

—

"Married!" Your mother's exclaimed at the same time. The table stood still as you and Jake stood at the head of the table, rings displayed proudly on your hands. Jake caught his father slip your dad a fifty-dollar bill, and you watched your siblings share knowing looks with Jake’s sisters. 

“When did this start?” Your dad asked with a grin. 

“Before flight school,” Jake’s older sister answered. 

“In the barn,” his younger sister added. 

“Y’all needed a better hiding spot,” your sister snickered in between bits of her food. 

Nora got up from the table and held your hand, her free one lovingly stroking Jake’s cheek. “We didn’t wanna ruin the party ma… you know how you get,” Jake said lightly. 

 “I see why you didn’t tell me,” she chuckled. “Welcome to the family, sweetie, officially.”

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin oneshot #hangman #hngman x reader #hangman x you #hangman imagine #top gun #top gun maverick

[yorutsuki]

「 ✦ Unexpected Traveler Pt. 1 ✦ 」

↳ You were once a world traveler alongside the twins—one being your lover...but that was until you had disappeared from their side not too long after their run in with the heavenly principles. So...what a coincidence would it be if a certain unexpected traveler showed up.

Tags:

──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────

You flopped onto your bed—nothing seemed better than to just be unconscious in a world of bliss and nothingness.

Earlier you had to deal with a stuck up local who commissioned you. Fortunately you were saved by the artistic consultant de Fontaine who graciously invited you for a quick tea and sandwich but it was cut short as your food and drink splattered on your outfit by a bumping local.

So here you were, splat across your mattress, staring at nothingness in contemplation of your life.

How you wished you could go back to your old life..

You started to reminiscence of your previous adventures with the blonde twins—hopping different worlds, exploring their vast lands and fighting off unique and exquisite monsters.

Your eyebrows furrow as your mind drifts to that day—the day where you lost everything, lost them—him.

You remember it so clearly, the night sky with it's stars shining down upon the world, the moon's glow cascading over the nourishing life, though..it all turned red so quickly. Fire spreading, smoke arising from every corner. The world was crumbling, you, yourself included.

You remember, you could still feel it, the way your hand slowly crumbled away into ash. You remember the horrified faces of the twins as the realization sank in. You remember the last time you saw his face as he cradled you before the only thing left was ashes and darkness.

But then..you woke up here. The burning sensation that filled your eyes from the salt, how the world around you felt light yet heavy at the same time..that was until you felt movement from yourself and another. And that's where you met Furina—well, Focalors, the God of justice and the Archon of hydro. Overall throughout your years here, the two of you had gotten close, practically family at this point.

..

Your time of reminiscing was interrupted with knocking from your door.

Quickly getting up you opened the door and were greeted by one of Furina's servants.

"Lady {Y/N}, Lady Furina wishes to speak to you quickly."

.

.

.

"HE'S HERE!?"

Your shouts bounced off the walls of the court room, Furina swore the whole city of Fontaine heard.

She shook her head. "Well, yes and no. Aether's here on Teyvat, yes, but he's not in this region." She corrected placing her head on her hand with intrugement.

"B-but he's here! Holy shit!" You cussed, both hands at the side of your head as you paced nervously. But you briefly stopped, your brows furrowing, "wait..he's here..? Where's Lumine?" You questioned.

Furina raised her brow in confusion, "His sister?" She paused, hesitating as she thought..She shook her head, "{Y/N}...She—...she isn't here, theres no records of her existence here physically, the only thing of her being is words from the traveler." She stated as her brows furrowed in sympathy.

She knew your relationships with the twins. She didn't want to be the barrier of bad news but better to say it now than let it be found later. Right?

She watched as you stood in silence before sighing. "Do you know where he is now?" You asked as she hummed in thought before nodding, "I believe he's somewhere in Sumeru, I heard there was quite a big event there."

You furrowed your brows before shaking your head, "thank you Furina, I need a bit of time to uhh figure all this out." You smiled as she nodded in understanding.

....

Two weeks have passed, you haven't heard much about the Aether only a few mummers and mumbles every once in a while.

You still had hope and your were ecstatic to see him for the first time in how many years? Right..4 years.

You wondered if he changed at all or if he was still the same—like his looks, or persona. Maybe even his relationships? Would that also mean his relationship with you would've changed..? What if he didn't like you anymore—moved on, found someone else? What if-

You shook your head, not wanting to sink deeper into that abyss.

You walked along the shore of Fontaine, your brows furrowed as you tried calming your gearing mind.

"AGH! Why couldn't I have just not turn to dust!?" You complained, throwing your head back as you pressed your nails into your head in irritation but quickly let go as you heard something behind you.

"{Y/N}..?"

.

.

.

A/N : HAJHAJHAJHAJA I FINALLY FINISHED ANOTHER FIC 🤩

{ Next Part }

......

[ Masterlist ]

#scenerios #genshin impact #x reader #gender neutral reader #genshin #oneshot #genshin imagines #gender neutral y/n #Aether #aether genshin impact #aether x reader #aether x you #aether x y/n #genshin imapct aether #aether #lumine #focalors #furina de fontaine #furina #fontaine

[adorethedistance]

About a Month - Jamie Drysdale x Reader (platonic!Trevor x reader)

Based on this post by @mack-samo

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, making out, mild roasts

Words: 1475

Summary: A rest day with Jamie is rudely interrupted by Trevor’s return home, and your relationship is uncovered once and for all.

A/n: So I’m in a tiny tiny block but whatever it’s fine. This definitely isn't my best work but if I kept hacking away at it I would hate it and then never post it so voila.

“And I thought you invited me over to watch a movie,” I say softly against the surface of Jamie’s neck. He moves my head gently to meet my eyes before pressing another kiss to my lips. He mumbles,

“Are you complaining?”

“Not yet,” a cheeky grin spreads across my face despite neither me or Jamie pulling away; both of us nervously and excitedly breathing into each other’s mouths. Jamie reciprocates my smile and surprises me by excitedly grabbing my face in his hands and crashing our lips together once more. Running the tip of my tongue over his bottom lip causes his breathing to flutter dazedly and I bite back a cocky smile. The rookie duck chases after my kiss but I push him back by his chest and he hits the headboard of his unmade bed. He looks at me hazily, in awe of my entire being. Swinging my left leg over both of his, I’m kneeling over him leaning down to reconnect with Jamie. I take his adorable face in my hands and draw him back in for another kiss. Once intertwined again, I lower myself onto his lap and I feel him involuntarily sigh at the new point of contact. His hands are practically twitching with anticipation before coming to rest awkwardly on my waist. His touch is light, too light. I can tell he’s unsure of how much he should do.

The consideration is sweet but I’m aiming for something more.

Without breaking our kiss, I place my hands on his wrists and trail his hands up the length of my body before resting them on my ribcage. When he still doesn’t move, I take a moment to appreciate his extensive respect before guiding his hands over my grey graphic t-shirt, over the lace fabric of the black bralette I’m wearing today. Jamie lets out an involuntary whimper of excitement which makes me laugh into the kiss.

“You’re so adorable.” He flushes in embarrassment and buries his face in the exposed skin of my neck. “No, come back!” Jamie peeks up at my face long enough for me to tangle my fingers in his lengthy black hair. We resume our kiss, less frenzied this time; there’s a piece of innocence that wasn’t there before. We unintentionally sigh simultaneously and I look into his eyes, playing with the ends of his messy hair.

“Jamie?”

“Hm?” He answers without breaking eye contact.

“Can we get Chinese for dinner?”

“...Sure?” he laughs, seemingly confused.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Whaaaat?” I pester and pout, placing a soft kiss on his lips which he reciprocates.

“You’re cute.” Jamie presses another kiss on my lips, wrapping his arms around my waist. We’ve been switching between cuddling and making out for most of the day, just trying to rest as much as possible. Rest days are rare for us between hockey season being in full swing and the holiday season. But when our days off sync up, it’s inconceivable bliss.

The only issue is getting rid of Trevor. Easier said than done. Jamie and Trevor do everything together so naturally, they’d spend their off days together too. As a result, Jamie and I had to find a way to get some of the other ducks involved without them finding out either. Figuring out how to sneak around Trevor was a pain in the ass early on but Jamie and I have got a routine down now. Whenever they have time off, Mason unknowingly takes one for the team by hanging out with Trevor the whole day.

And it’s not that I don’t want to meet Trevor, I’m ready for anything! Jamie is the one with reservations. He said he would tell Trevor when he was ready, but I feel like he should be ready by now.

“Jame.”

“What’s up?”

“Are you gonna tell Trevor soon?”

“About us?”

“No, about the nepo baby article- yes about us!” I say sarcastically, waiting for an actual answer.

“Well-” Suddenly, we jump apart, startled by the sounds of the front door opening.

“HONEYY I’M HOOOOOME!” Jamie and I snap up at the sound of the front door opening and look at one another in panic. Both of us stare at each other in fear as we hear Trevor shuffle into the apartment. I quickly swing myself off his lap to plop down on the bed next to him. He gives me a pouty look.

“What do we do?!” I whisper shout.

“I don’t know!”

“HEY JAMIE, HAVE YOU SEEN THE-” Trevor’s familiar voice cuts off. I sit anxiously tuned in for the reason he stopped talking. After a long pause we hear him say, “Oh, Jamie, you dog.”

“I left my shoes by the front door,” I confess in a whisper. Jamie looks at me panicked. Trevor’s footsteps come closer.

“You invited someone over without telling me? Oh-” he cuts himself off again, leaning in the doorway upon seeing me and Jamie on the bed. Taking in Jamie’s messy hair and my shirt’s disheveled placement; it’s not hard for him to piece together what had been happening prior to his arrival.

“You’ve got yourself a girl, Jamo?” Trevor says incredulously.

“You’re not supposed to be back until 5.” I stare dazedly and absentmindedly pick a loose strand of my hair off of Jamie’s shirt. It didn’t even take me a moment, the comment is just instinctively fired out.

“How do you know that?”

“Oh my god, Z, get out.”

“No way, dude. I have too many questions. How long have you been keeping her from me?” Jamie hesitates to answer before deciding that what’s done is done.

“About a month.”

“Yeah, see, I have some lost time to make up for,” Trevor says before launching himself through the doorway and flying head-first onto Jamie’s bed where the two of us scramble to move out of the way. He lands directly in the middle with Jamie on the right and me on the left. “Sooo, where’d you guys meet?”

“You remember that one day I needed to go to Target and it was raining really hard?” Jamie butts in to contextualize our meet cute for Trevor.

“Yeah, I don’t know why you insisted on going.”

“Well, we were both leaving around the same time and as I’m about to step out I hear her say something. And at first I thought she was talking to me or something but when I turned around, I realized she didn’t have an umbrella and so I walked her to her car, we exchanged numbers, and the rest is history.” I snort out a laugh at Jamie’s abbreviated version of the story.

“That’s the skeleton of how it went. I asked him if I could hitch a ride under the umbrella and he was so nervous he didn’t speak the whole time. When we got to my car I gave him my number and the rest was history.” Trevor howls with laughter at the visceral image of Jamie being nervous.

“I give you too much credit, Jimbo. As if you could pull her.”

“And you’ve been single for how long?”

“Oh, you’ve got jokes.”

“Only when my boyfriend is being made fun of.” Trevor looks at me and then quickly over to Jamie. I follow his gaze and look at Jamie who’s glowing bright red. I guess I haven’t called him my boyfriend in front of him yet.

“Have you been dating for a whole month or does that include the talking stage?”

“Uh, no, two weeks of talking, two weeks of dating.”

“Is this even legal by the way?”

“What? We’re the same age!” Jamie argues against Trevor’s nonsense.

“Okay, okay, just making sure. I wouldn’t put it past you to go for someone a bit older.”

“Are you sure you’re not just projecting?” I seize the opportunity to poke fun at Trevor once more and he looks at me playfully. I stick my tongue out at him and laugh before leaning my head on Jamie’s shoulder. I feel him relax underneath me and as extra reassurance, I grab his left hand in both of mine.

“Seriously Jame, how did you end up with her?”

“Look. As fun as it is to see you flabbergasted about the idea that Jamie could ever date someone, we’re just trying to watch a movie.”

“Okay, okay, okay. I know when I’m not wanted-” Trevor gasps, cutting himself off, “Are you watching Top Gun? I love this movie- wait can you rewind?” He then squirms his way up the bed, settling between me and Jamie, forcing us to accommodate him and break our connection. Jamie looks at me, trying to apologize silently but I just smile and shrug. I reach an arm up around Trevor to play with the ends of Jamie’s hair once more.

“I forgot how comfortable your bed is!”

***

#NHL imagine #NHL x reader #NHL hockey #Jamie Drysdale #Jamie Drysdale fanfiction #Jamie Drysdale fanfic #Jamie Drysdale fic #Jamie Drysdale writing #Jamie Drysdale imagine #Jamie Drysdale oneshot #Jamie Drysdale one shot #Jamie Drysdale x reader #Jamie Drysdale x y/n #Jamie Drysdale angst #Jamie Drysdale fluff #Jamie Drysdale smut #JD17 #JD34 #JD6 #Trevor Zegras

[two-white-butterflies]

Taco Truck x VB | O. Hightower

Description: Otto Hightower begins dating Viserys Targaryen's youngest daughter. Social media goes crazy because of the age-gap. Pairing: COO!otto hightower/actress-socialite!reader

"Is there a man in your life?" James Corden raises an eyebrow, and the entire audience erupts into laughter. "I mean - it would be weird if I didn't have a man in my life, because how would I be born?" you try to change to topic, but your friend was already suspicious.

"Okay for the record, Henry Cavill is hot?" he asked, and you laugh nervously. Otto was most definitely watching from home. "He's a respectable man, and I'm sure that he treats ladies properly, but personally I think he's too young for me." you shrug, and a sarcastic chuckle escapes the host's mouth.

"Okay," he rolled his eyes and the audience laughs again.

"Now let's move into your new movie with Cate Blanchett,"

(your name)arryn-targaryen: 💚

2,678 comments 971,238 likes

gigihadid: 💚 Hightower_Gwaynie: welcome to the family 💪🏽💚 user12: the green hearts are throwing me off guard

Y/N ARRYN-TARGARYEN, WHO COULD BE HER NEW BOYFRIEND?

The socialite and actress is known for her small indie films in Hollywood, mostly gaining critical acclaim but 'flopping' in box-office. Now, her fans can't stop speculating the identity of her new boyfriend.

Well, here is what we know:

In a cryptic post in instagram, she used a green heart and her friends retaliated with posting the same color. Green is the signature color of 'House Hightower', a family that used to be prominent in Italy during the Renaissance Period. The family comes from a line of bankers that used to dominate medieval Europe.

The patriarch, Otto Hightower, has three sons: Hobert, Toto, and Gwayne.

The actress is yet to confirm the relationship with one of the three.

It was nice being in America, since no one knew about your family. They were all treating you like shit, but that was okay.

"Sometimes I walk around museums and think that these artifacts shouldn't be here," you mused, taking a lazy sip of your espresso.

Otto had the entire museum closed just so you could walk around without fear of the media. It was sweet, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you - you were used to luxury.

"Buy it and give them back." he replied, holding your other hand tightly. Smiling while his cold palms were defrosted by your warm ones. He had doubts about the relationship - figured that he was too old to be your boyfriend, but you assured him.

This was what you wanted - and there was nothing wrong with it.

"I guess," you hum - walking past the Asia section.

arryn.family.updates: Y/N Arryn-Targaryen (Aemma's daughter) with Otto Hightower.

167 comments 200 likes

fabyrtestar: The power she holds, if they get married her last name is literally gonna be Y/N Targaryen-Hightower antonio_fuoci2: She's so lana del rey vinyl

OTTO HIGHTOWER DENIES BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH BOSS' YOUNGEST DAUGHTER.

"She's a nice girl, but we're not [uhh] together. Honestly, when you're at this age - all you worry about is work and making work better. I mean the new Targaryen 291 Adventure Edition is a wonderful car for a family, and we've been working on it for the past decade now - to make sure that everything is fine and safe."

Y/N ARRYN-TARGARYEN DENIES BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH OLDER MAN.

"I don't think that the rumors should be taken as truth, I've spoken to Otto a few times and it's all business between us - he's my father's COO. I haven't been out actually, I was really shocked when the rumors came out. I've been so busy on my film with A24, and processing the Arryn Hotel Chain, [super] busy."

(5 years later)

(your name)arryn-targaryen: look at him. i'd die for him. i'd kill for him, but either way what bliss?

pictures for our wedding in may.

future mrs. hightower

credits to @jace_strong_photography

34,238 comments 244,779 likes

RhaenyraArryn-Targaryen: Congratulations dear! leaving the nest already, even though you swore to be here til 30. 😊 - (your name)arryn-targaryen: I didn't pinky swear 🤷🏻‍♀️

benjamineur29: IT'S ALL BUSINESS BETWEEN US 😭😭 bitch u lied

#otto hightower x reader #otto hightower #social media alternative universe

[edandstede]

some thoughts about ofmd 2x07 and the “break up” (it’s not, it’s ed being an impulsive sensitive fool (affectionate) but i digress) so spoilers abound, just wanted to share my pov

ok so!!! ed panicked. he’s still trying to figure his shit out, trying to heal from literally dying, from losing stede and getting him back and every dark thing that happened with the crew. so much has happened in such a short space of time that his head must be spinning. we see him flashing back to it, he’s still processing, and it’s all going so fast.

and then the revenge gets boarded and he has to watch stede be tortured, watch stede take a life purposefully for the first time, be reminded of killing his own dad, and then they fall into bed together after ed went to him to see if he was okay. they have sex, and ed makes stede this lovely breakfast, and he throws his leathers overboard whilst wearing his nice blue robe. he immediately wants to shed blackbeard for good and live in this new bliss where he can be soft and safe, but that’s interrupted when stede says that near-death situations are hard to avoid in their line of work. he’s brought crashing back to reality and thinks, shit, this isn’t gonna work is it? what have i done?

his head and heart are being pulled in so many directions and he really is facing an identity crisis, a personal dilemma, trying to answer the question “what do i want?” while all this is going on, while he’s faced with the fact that they’ll never truly be safe doing this and they could lose each other again. he might never get proper peace and bliss with stede, and he wants it so much. he wants a life where he doesn’t see stede in danger ever again.

and ed is insecure too, is the thing. he’s so highly sensitive. about the twine on the tray, the fish he caught. stede isn’t the only one who runs and buries his head in the sand when shit gets tough, ed does it too. whim-prone. this time, running off to be a fisherman is ed’s blanket fort. he’s like, okay, i’m feeling bad so that must mean last night was too fast, a mistake, and i don’t wanna do the pirate thing anymore but stede is loving his new fame, so that must mean i should leave. it’s almost like he’s rejecting himself before stede can, before stede realises this isn’t gonna work, that they want different things; they’re not compatible after all and it’ll hurt less if he walks away first this time. he’s trying to save himself the heartbreak.

i don’t think ed truly thinks them sleeping together was a mistake, i think so many feelings are just being mixed inside and that’s the conclusion he’s come to. he got to have this little taste of what their life could be like if they were safe and out of harm’s way together, settled down, but he doesn’t think it’s possible. he’s pissed off with himself for giving in to that temptation when he already knew he wanted to retire.

stede tells him their relationship can be whatever they want it to be but ed isn’t listening because he’s already made that impulsive choice and he’s stubborn, he’s afraid, he’s spiralling, he’s angry it has to be this way. he doesn’t even stop to think that, actually, it doesn’t have to be this way. they could find their middle ground, it doesn’t have to be one life or the other, but they cannot do anything without talking it through.

ed feels doubt, uncertainty, and takes a job on a boat rather than actually telling stede what’s going on in his head. what he wants. he wants to retire, has this fantasy in his head of owning an inn with stede, having quiet domesticity away from a fear of death. clearly he doesn’t think they can compromise, it probably hasn’t occurred to him or it has and he just thinks it isn’t possible to have the best of both worlds. but it is, and they’ll get there, and i think s3 will see them really find the life they’re going to keep.

honestly they should just look at their crew, really look, at how they look after themselves and each other. they could learn a thing or two.

#ofmd spoilers #ofmd #ed x stede #ofmd meta #quill to paper