#it takes me hours to work up the nerve to work

[say-al0e]

Hypothetical

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Eddie asks a lot of hypothetical questions, just to hear your answer. The answer to this question was more real than you wanted to admit. Warnings: Tiny bit of self-doubt, idiots to lovers. Pairing: Eddie x fem!Reader (think it could be read as GN but just to be safe) Word Count: 2.7k

“Would you fuck my clone?”

The question, asked as casually as if he were inquiring about the weather - though, to his defense, he’d asked weirder - rose above the sound of chainsaws emanating from the television and earned a confused frown as you spared him a sideways glance.

Eddie’s attention remained mostly on Leatherface, chasing unsuspecting victims, but you caught his curious glance as you laughed. Those were the first words spoken in over an hour, certainly a record for your verbose best friend, and you couldn’t help but ask, “What the fuck, Eddie?”

“What?” From his position at the end of the couch, feet propped on the coffee table and head lolled onto the cushions, he shrugged. “It’s a simple question. Would you fuck my clone?”

A beat of silence passed, in which you realized this was one of those moments where Eddie wouldn’t let the question go until he was given a satisfying answer, and you sighed. “I don’t think that’s the question, Eds,” you countered. “Isn’t it usually, ‘would you fuck your own clone’?”

With a dismissive wave of his hand and a scoff, Eddie finally sat up and turned his full attention to you, screaming teenagers and chainsaws forgotten now that he had something better to capture his attention. “That one’s boring,” he reasoned. “We know all the arguments. This is a different question, new arguments.”

“I think we’re fine without arguing,” you teased, reaching for the nearly half-empty bowl of popcorn. “Just watch the movie, Eddie.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched as a look you couldn’t quite recognize flickered across Eddie’s face. However, just as quickly as it appeared, it was covered with a raised brow and a teasing grin. “We’ve seen it a hundred times already. Anyway, what I’m getting from this is, you would fuck my clone. Interesting.”

Eddie did little to hide his amusement as you rolled your eyes and tossed a piece of popcorn at him. “I didn’t say that,” you argued, despite yourself - despite knowing that you were walking into a conversation you weren’t yet sure you wanted any part of.

A hum, unconvinced, met your ears as he reached for the bowl and plucked it from your hands. “Okay,” he prompted, ignoring your outraged huff. “So, tell me. Would you?”

There were a handful of ways you could respond to his probing. The first, shut down his question with a point blank refusal, phrased as a light-hearted joke that did little damage to his ego and even less to your already fragile nerves. The second, play into his game and debate the pros and cons of sleeping with his clone, the ethical ramifications, the conversation he clearly wanted. Or, the third, admit to him a fact that you’d concealed since the summer of 1984.

Any way you could have him, real Eddie or clone, you would take it.

That was, solidly, not in the lead. So, you opted for the second approach.

“Jeez, Eds,” you sighed, stealing popcorn from the bowl now resting on his lap. “I don’t know. Maybe,” you conceded. “Depends, I guess. Is he, like, total you or some weird, kinda fucked up clone? Like, is he totally evil or incapable of coherent thought or, I don’t, off somehow?” As an afterthought, you joked, “More so than the real you, anyway.”

“Rude.” There was no bite in the declaration, only a fond amusement that made your chest ache, but you did your best to ignore it as he hummed. “Clone’s a totally normal, complete carbon copy. Everything about him is exactly the same, down to the last hair.”

“So, no aspirations to rule the world or become, like, the next Leatherface?”

Eddie grinned. “That’s my backup plan, you know, if music doesn’t work. So, guess it’d be his, too,” he admitted, only breaking into laughter when you grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. “Seriously,” he relented, “nothing weird. Just another me. Everything you know and love, times two.”

With a sigh, you lifted your legs onto the couch and hugged your knees to your chest. “Then… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely audible over the screams still echoing from the television. “Maybe?”

“It’s a yes or no question, babe,” he reminded you, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he studied you. “Shouldn’t be this hard.”

That look, the one that you had difficulty placing, returned and despite your uncertainty as to what it was, you were certain that you didn’t like it very much. Doubt, or maybe hurt, were the closest emotions you could identify though neither made much sense to you in the moment.

Still, rather than ask, you rolled your eyes. “What’s the point of this conversation?”

There was none, it was just for fun - a debate, like the thousands of others you’d had over the course of your friendship - and Eddie said a much as he shrugged. “Isn’t one,” he declared, offering you the last handful of popcorn. “I just want to know if you’d fuck my clone.”

When you refused, he returned the bowl back to the coffee table before reaching for your ankle. With a gentle tug, he encouraged you to rest your feet on his lap as his fingers began to tap a beat that only existed inside his head against your skin. “Why does it matter?”

Eddie shrugged once more, though this time, he glanced at the television rather than you as he answered. “Because I asked and you always answer.”

“I do,” you relented, sighing as you also spared the screen a glance. “Well, what’s the right answer, then? There has to be one.”

This time, he shook his head as the tapping of his fingers grew a touch faster. “Right answer’s the true one.”

For a moment, you simply studied Eddie. His side profile, bathed in the warm glow of the television, was the picture of concentration as he watched a scene you’d seen a thousand times before. Only, you knew him well enough to see the telltale signs that he was in no way paying as close of attention as he should’ve been.

The slightest tick in his jaw, the quick bite of the inside of his cheek, the delayed blinking; all signs that he was waiting more intently for your answer than he wanted you to believe.

Rejection - no matter how hypothetical - never seemed possible when it came to Eddie. So, you sighed and conceded, “Okay, fine. Sure, I’d fuck your clone.”

Eddie hummed, seemingly unsurprised and feigning nonchalance as he nodded as if the answer confirmed something he already suspected. And there were a thousand ways in which you expected him to respond; none of which could’ve compared to him declaring, “So, you’d fuck my clone but not me.”

Again, rejection was not an option. However, you had no intention of admitting to him that you’d wanted him for years. There was no world in which you could see yourself admitting to him that you thought he was beautiful - with his doe eyes and playful grin. Telling him how you felt would likely end in an awkward silence at best and a ruined friendship at worst.

So, you opted for a careful denial. “What? I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re not saying anything to the contrary,” he countered, turning his head to spare you a cursory glance. There was something there, beneath the amused glimmer in his eyes, that unnerved you - something far more serious than you were expecting - but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

When you shot him an unimpressed glance, cutting your eyes at him before returning your attention to the television, he shrugged, teasing grin never faltering. “I never said that. I answered a hypothetical and you’re reading into it.”

Eddie met your perhaps too sharp denial with a raised brow as he gave up the guise of watching the movie. “So, am I wrong?”

“Would you stop putting words into my mouth?” You huffed as you reached for the bowl of popcorn, desperate for something to distract yourself from making a confession you knew you would regret. “I never said that. All I said was that I’d fuck your clone, I answered the question.”

“Okay, fine. You never said you wouldn’t fuck me but it’s never happened. Never even sort of, almost, maybe happened,” he reminded you - as if you needed it. “So, you would fuck my clone but not me. Why?”

“Because we’re friends, Eddie,” you shot back, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you popped a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “I’ve known you since I was ten.” 

The excuse sounded weak in your own ears, but it was all you could muster without breaking down and confessing that you would, in fact, sleep with him. If only he’d ask. If only it wouldn’t destroy your friendship. If only it was that simple.

Still, Eddie was relentless. “But my clone would have all my memories, totally the same person,” he reminded you. “He’d be your friend, just like me. But you’d fuck him. So, why not me?”

“This is stupid,” you huffed. “Why do you care?” He’d never pushed so hard, not in pursuit of a hypothetical question meant to pass the time, and you were genuinely curious why he seemed so interested in your answer, or your lack thereof.

“I’m a naturally curious person,” he argued, shrugging as he squeezed your ankle. “It’s just a stupid hypothetical. C’mon, why would you hypothetically fuck my clone but not me?”

There was little doubt in your mind that he would continue pushing until he got the answer he was looking for, especially as it seemed that he’d already made up his mind that he was right, so you shifted yourself in a huff. With your legs now hugged to your chest, eyes on the television to avoid meeting his gaze as you admitted in a snap, “God, okay. I’d fuck your clone because it’s the closest I’d get to being with you without actually destroying our entire relationship. Happy with that answer?”

“What?” Eddie sounded genuinely surprised and you could feel the warmth of his gaze burning into your skin as you purposely kept your gaze on the television.

“If your clone is you, all your memories, your mannerisms, your looks, I’d fuck your clone because then I’d get to see what it’s like to be with you,” you admitted, words escaping despite every fiber of your being telling you to be quiet. “I’d get everything without the risk of losing you when I fuck it all up.”

Eddie shifted closer then, careful to keep a few inches of space between you but no longer nestled into the opposite edge of the couch as he tipped his head to get a better glimpse of your face. “What do you mean, when you fuck it up?”

Frustrated tears - at admitting a secret you swore would follow you to the grave, at allowing him to get under your skin when he was simply asking an innocent question, at allowing yourself to get so worked up over something so simple - stung at the backs of your eyes as you huffed. “I’m… you know me, Eddie. I don’t,” you sighed, cutting yourself off, before taking a deep breath. “I’m prickly. I don’t do well with romance. I freak out and run,” you reminded him. “Even if you felt the same, if we worked out enough to not have our friendship go down in flames, there’s still a chance I’d fuck it up and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to run from you.”

“Hey.” Eddie shifted even closer, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, and sighed when you refused to glance at him. Regardless, he exclaimed, “That’s why we’d be different.”

“What?” Of all the things you expected him to say, that was the last. With furrowed brows and tears still lining your lashes, you tipped your head to glance at him. “Why?”

“Because,” he began, meeting your eyes for the first time in what felt like hours, “when you try to run, I know what you’re doing. When you get all weird or try to push me away, I know it’s not really you wanting me to go. I know you. I get you, just like you get me.”

“Eddie.”

Of all the ways you’d expected him to react, of all the ways you expected him to acknowledge your feelings for him, returning them was not on the list. For years, you’d convinced yourself that there was no way he would return your feelings, there was no way you would ever be able to acknowledge those feelings without losing your best friend, and there was still a deep-rooted fear that, despite his seeming certainty that his understanding would make a difference, any attempt at a relationship would only end in heartbreak.

That didn’t seem to matter to him as he pressed on. “I’m serious. It’s us,” he continued, this time reaching out to press a hand to your knee. “It’s always been us, always will be us. There’s nothing you can do to get rid of me. Not now.”

“You can’t know that,” you sighed, though it was nowhere near as confident as you hoped it would be. “We can’t see the future.”

“We can’t,” he agreed. “Not yet, anyway, but the nineties seem promising.” When you rolled your eyes, barely suppressing a smile, he laughed. “But that’s the fun part. We do our best to make our own future. It’s always going to be together, might as well come clean and really be together instead of making ourselves miserable pretending.” Before you could respond, offer another half-hearted refusal, he pressed on. “What do we have to lose?”

“Everything.”

Eddie shook his head, completely unconvinced that anything bad would come of allowing yourselves to try. “I don’t believe that. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“How can you be so certain?” You wished you had an ounce of Eddie’s certainty, his true belief that the pair of you could make it, but you were skeptical. Neither of you had much luck in life, neither of you had much outside of one another, and losing him would be far too great.

However, you were tired of pretending that a shared future was not what you wanted. 

The possibility that your future could go up in flames, that you could destroy the best friendship you’d ever had, worried you. It kept you awake at night. But now knowing that Eddie felt the same, that he wanted the same future you did, there was no way you could turn him down.

For all your fear, for all your hesitance, saying no was not an option.

“Because we’ve been in love for years and nothing bad has happened yet.” He said it as if it was the most obvious answer he could give, as if it made all the sense in the world, and if you really stopped to think about it, it did.

“Can you promise me something?”

Eddie shifted ever closer, nodding easily as you reached for his hand. “Anything.”

“Can you promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll always be friends? Even if we don’t work out, if something happens, promise me that we’ll still be there for each other.”

“I promise. Nothing hypothetical about that,” he agreed, corner of his mouth lifting when you offered a soft smile.

The moment stretched around you, nothing existed outside of the pair of you as Eddie tugged you into his side. It was easy, natural, and you melted into his touch despite the fear lingering in the back of your mind.

There was a brief worry that this could be a mistake. That allowing yourselves to intertwine your futures so thoroughly would only end in heartbreak, but he was right. For as long as you could remember, it had been you and Eddie. There was nothing that had managed to wedge you apart yet. And pretending had no guarantee of working in the long term.

So, you decided to dive in to the deep end and allow yourself to truly fall. There was no situation, real or hypothetical, in which he would allow you to hit the ground.

No matter what, you knew that he would be there to catch you. 

________________________________________________________

Author's Note: I spent my entire day in meetings. All the meetings. So many meetings. I also have a dentist appointment on Wednesday and I am Terrified. So have this.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff​, @valthevalkyrie-main​, @crying-caro​, @inglourious-imagines​

#stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #eddie munson fluff #v's fics

[bitchinbarzal]

Red, White & Blue | M Barzal

part three of blue, white & orange

-

Mat was miserable and it showed. It fed over into practices and his on ice performance.

The islanders bailed out in the second round, no thanks to Mat’s horrible playing.

He spent the off season at home, not his usual extravagant plans with you by his side. He only flew back to BC for a few weeks before he got home and back to work. He needed to get his mind off you.

You’d blocked him and seemingly moved as he dropped by your apartment only to meet a nice Swedish man named Jakob living there now.

Your jacket and jersey still hung over his dining room chair where he dropped them that night he got home. The jersey was still dirty from the floor and the jacket still smelled of her perfume.

When the season rolled back around in August Mat was all eyes forward. He still hadn’t heard from you and he was slowly but surely getting better.

The season opener was in Madison Square Garden, facing off against the rangers. He wasn’t worried, he just wanted the game to be done with. This team brought him nothing but horrible memories and feelings.

The game started strong, the islanders were on a positive beginning. They were leading by three going into the third. Mat was confident.

That was until he saw you on the jumbotron.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw your face, the smile he missed and loved so much. You were sat there wearing the thing that started all of this, that stupid jersey. The red, white and blue made Mat feel sick.

That threw him off. They lost. He just wanted to go home.

While heading back to the bus he heard someone shouting his name, turning to see Alexis calling for him.

He scowled “What do you want?”

Alexis rolled his eyes “Don’t forget she was my fiancé first… anyway, here” he thrusts a post it note into Mat’s hand

“What’s this?”

“That’s her new address” he explains and notices Mat’s confused expression “She still loves you Mat and all I ever wanted was for her to be happy if it was with me or you”

Mat took the post it with a shaky hand a soft smile “Thanks man…”

He gripped it tightly on the way back to UBS. Staring at it, as if trying to memorise it.

When he got back to his car it was the first thing he did, punch that address into his GPS.

When he arrived he sat in his car staring at the window of the apartment he had figured out was yours. It took him an hour before he finally had the nerve to go into the building and knock on your door.

He heard you call out “coming!” Before opening the door. You looked shocked to see him, suddenly aware of what you were wearing.

The blue burned Mat’s eyes. He wishes he could rip It off but he knew better.

“Mat-“

“I love you. I love you in this jersey, in my jersey - I mostly prefer you without anything to be honest!” He rambled, his hands flapping around

“You gave her my jacket” you mumble, curling back into yourself.

He shakes his head, scrunching his eyes closed “I- I didn’t give her it! Please just- she took it! She was cold and I turned my back for like a second. I had the jacket because I was coming to find you, to make up for what was happening between us”

You bit your lip “How do I know that?”

He shrugs “I can’t make you trust me but you know how much I love you, that’s never been in question. We fought, we were each jealous because we love each other so much so please don’t stay away from me any longer I can’t take it”

Your bottom lip quivered “How do you know we’re not bad for each other Mat?”

“Even if we are… I’m willing to take the risk”

You let out a shaky breath “Come here”

He immediately steps into the apartment and kisses you, both of you stumbling back a few steps. You feel him lifting up your jersey to reveal nothing underneath

“Mat!”

“I lied, I don’t love you in this jersey please get it off”

#mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine

[annwrites]

exactly what he needs, pt. 2 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | pt 1 | pt3

— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)

— summary: you & nate hang out in your room (after he snoops through it right in front of you), then ask each other questions, & he dresses & does your hair before you head out to spend the evening together.

— tags: conversing, getting to know one another

— tw: sexualization, lying (nate manipulating the truth), dollification

— word count: 6.2k

— a/n: I edited this numerous times, but fucked myself over by writing part 1 in present-tense to begin with, which I'm not always great at. So, if I messed up the tenses anywhere, please ignore it. Going forward, I'll probably be publishing further installments in past-tense.

Next post will be reader & Nate going shopping & having dinner!

The next morning when you wake, it only takes a few minutes for you to remember that Nate will be there in a little less than an hour, and the nerves immediately set in.

Surely people will see you getting out of his truck. What will they think?

You shake your head. It doesn't matter. Not really, anyway. You don't much care what any one person of the student population thinks of you.

You know high school is just a blip—a very brief moment in time, where it seems like every little thing you experience can be the end of the world, but it's really all just the beginning.

People will think whatever they like. It's not your job to try and change their minds. Not that trying to do as much would work anyway.

Once you've quickly showered, dressed, pulled your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your way, and eaten breakfast, you don't even have time to wait by the door as Nate's truck pulls up. You quickly pull on a pair of boots and step outside, locking the door behind you.

When you look up, your stomach does a flip when you see Nate holding the passenger-side door open for you.

You walk over to him. "You don't have to get my door for me, you know."

He shrugs, taking your backpack from you, setting it in the backseat with his. "I want to."

You tell him thank you as you climb inside and he shuts the door behind you.

Once you're on the road, he's the first to break the silence. "You can listen to whatever you want on the radio."

In truth, it's a bit too early for music for you. "I'm ok."

"Did you eat already?"

You nod. "I had a bowl of cereal."

He gives a slight frown. Not a very healthy start to your day. Something full of sugar.

"Do you want me to pick you up something on the way?"

Your eyes go wide. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you, though. It's nice of you to offer."

He decides tomorrow he's bringing you breakfast, and he won't be asking for permission beforehand.

You're both silent again for a moment and the truck slows as he pulls up to a red light. He briefly wonders if you know how to drive. If not, he'd be a more than willing teacher.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you something personal. If you do, just tell me to fuck off and you don't have to answer."

You look at him. "Ok..."

The light turns green and the truck picks up speed again. "I noticed neither of your parents were home yesterday. Were they both at work?"

You grow quiet for a moment, a pregnant pause settling between the two of you as you look out the window at the passing houses.

"My dad was...is. He travels a lot for work, so he's not home much."

He nods, deeming it good news, at least for him. "And your mom?"

You're quiet for even longer this time. Then, "I've never met her."

Minus Lexi, you've already divulged more to him in that short sentence than you have to anyone else at East Highland.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He's not sure that he means it. He despises both of his parents and, if anything, in this moment, is envious of you, due to your lack of relationship with both of yours.

You shrug. "It's fine."

He wants more than just 'it's fine'. He wants to know more, as it's clear it's something which bothers you. He wants you to give him emotional vulnerability for just a moment. Something he can use in the future to work his way in closer to you.

"Do you know anything about her?"

You shake your head. "My dad refuses to talk about her. After a few fights when I was younger where I tried to get him to, I gave up. It's probably for the best. She made her choice, and I think me knowing anything about her would just make things...more difficult. My life, I mean."

Even if you still felt like you were chasing shadows sometimes.

He nods. If nothing else, it's one less person he'll have to go through to be with you. Two less, from the sound of things.

Finally, he turns into the school parking lot, taking his usual spot and he shuts the truck off.

"I'll get your door for you," he states before getting out.

You unbuckle yourself, not sure what to think of his insistence with the whole door thing. It just doesn't seem to be something men much concern themselves with anymore—getting a girl's door for her—at least not teenage boys, that is. But perhaps he's different. Maybe it's just the way he was raised.

Nate opens your door and grabs his backpack, sliding it over his shoulders, then grabbing yours as well.

You get out and go to take it from him, but he continues holding it.

"Turn around."

Your brows furrow for a moment, but do as he's asked. You quickly realize what he's doing and adjust your arms as he slides your bag onto your back. He's really going the extra mile to be a gentleman, you think.

Once the truck's doors are closed and he's locked the vehicle, he places his hand against the small of your back as you walk into school together.

You look perfectly calm on the outside, but on the inside, your anxiety levels are rising with each pair of eyes turning your and Nate's way.

When you spot Lexi, the look on her face is nothing short of bewildered. Next to her sits Cassie, who's fuming.

You're torn away from looking in their direction by Nate coming to stand in front of you. "See you in third period."

You nod and give him a small smile, going to sit with Lexi, despite Cassie giving you that same glare from yesterday. A worse one, really.

"What the hell was that?" Lexi asks, her tone full of concern as you sit down beside her, setting your bag on the table.

"Nothing. He just drove me to school, that's all."

"And home," Cassie says, voice full of malice.

Lexi looks from her sister, then back to you. "The two of you are not hooking up."

You flush. "No. He just gave me a ride, that's all."

"Ok, but why would he do that? The two of you never talk. You're not even friends."

You do your best to ignore Cassie's unsettling stare.

"I'm just—" You immediately shut your mouth. You should've thought further ahead, should've thought about what excuse you would give people when they inevitably ask why the two of you are hanging out all of a sudden.

Nate asked you to keep it a secret and you aren't about to betray his confidence. If you do, you're sure he'll fail and never bother asking for help again.

"Just what?" Lexi prods.

"We're just hanging out. It's not a big deal. I promise."

Suddenly, Cassie stands, angrily grabbing her bag, jerking it off the table and storming away.

Lexi rolls her eyes. "Just ignore her. I don't know why she's still hung up on him, anyway. He treated her like crap." She shifts in her seat, facing fully toward you now. "What I can believe even less, however, is the fact you're giving him the time of day. He's an asshole. He was abusive toward Maddy and wanted to keep screwing Cassie so long as she kept it a secret. He uses people, Y/N."

Abusive? You knew he and Maddy had argued quite a bit, but nothing that severe.

"What do you mean by abusive?"

She shrugs. "I don't know much, since she and Cassie obviously aren't friends anymore. But I know a good portion of it, at least, was emotional. Maybe verbal, too. Then again, I don't think she was any better." Lexi glances behind you, and you don't dare turn around, now worried the subject of your conversation is who she's looking at. "She gives as good as she gets."

Once the school day is over and you go to drop off your books at your locker, you find Nate leaning up against it.

He smiles when he sees you and you give him a shy smile in return.

You put your things away, then look to Nate.

In truth, what Lexi told you had gotten to you a bit. You try to tell yourself that it's all nothing more than hearsay, and you're only tutoring—not dating him—so whatever had occurred between he and Maddy and Cassie is none of your concern.

"You ready?"

You nod, and, just like this morning, he places his hand firmly against your back.

Once you're in his truck, you notice Maddy staring at you today, just a few cars away. She and Kat are both looking in your direction, Maddy clearly getting worked up and Kat obviously trying to calm her down, and your eyes widen when she begins heading in Nate's direction.

Before she can reach him, however, he gets in the truck and pulls out of the lot, leaving her standing there, staring after the two of you.

You're glad whatever was about to happen has just been avoided.

Over the next week, you and Nate go to your house every day after school to study. You gradually get to know more about one another, like you learning he has a brother—which you'd somehow managed to forget over the years—and he tells you how passionate he is about personal fitness, something to which you don't much relate.

It'd been abundantly clear since day one that he dislikes his father. But that dislike—even if he talks about him very little—clearly, somewhere along the way, became loathing. It's all in the tone he uses, the language he uses when he's brought up.

But the thing that always seems to calm him—make him happier—is talking about you.

He asks you every question in the book: favorite food, color, flower, song, type of music, art, what you want to be when you graduate, the kind of house you want to live in. The list is endless.

And then the day came when he asked to see your room, with you standing awkwardly in the doorway as he surveys every inch.

He starts with your bed, your fluffy white comforter with small pink flowers printed across it, and your plethora of pillows. And then he notices the small brown teddy bear leaned back against said pillows. He briefly picks it up, smirking to himself, then looking at you.

“Do you sleep with this?”

Your face goes blood-red. “Y-yes.”

He studies it for a moment longer, making a mental note to one day buy you one himself, wanting you to sleep with one that’s come from him instead.

In truth, while you think about you sleeping with a stuffed animal as embarrassing—at least for another person to now know about—it’s a major fucking turn-on for him. You’re that innocent that you still sleep with a teddy.

He sets it back down, throwing a “that’s very sweet” your way before moving on to your bookshelves.

Not that he’s read or heard of the grand majority of the novels you have, he can tell by the titles and covers alone that they’re all either romance or fantasy. He supposes he understands that: you trying to escape through stories. Stories where you can go somewhere else, be someone else. Have a new family, new friends.

And then he thinks it incredibly sad—just how lonely you are.

It’s not like he isn’t already aware of it, because he is—has became more and more so as the last week has gone on. Everyday he’s come to your house it’s been empty. But to see your shelves crammed full of books—your one attempt at escaping into a better life—he vows in that moment to start working faster at bringing the two of you together into a relationship.

You need him.

You like stories about princesses trapped in towers and white knights coming to save them? Then that’s exactly what he’ll be for you. He’ll rescue you from the lonely hell you’re living in and give himself to you fully. He’ll dedicate all of his time that he can to you. And he plans to spoil you fucking rotten.

He looks over the various trinkets you have set on—and on top of—those shame shelves. Porcelain figurines of unicorns and cats, a small jeweled crown, some candles and a few faux plants.

He turns back to you. “Which one is your favorite?”

You shift nervously from one foot to the other. “The Lord of the Rings, actually. I…I really like Éowyn and Faramir’s story.”

He nods.

He’s never watched the movies, and has obviously never read the book, so he makes a mental note to at least do some reading on the characters you’ve mentioned to understand you better.

He then looks over your entertainment center and the small collection of DVDs you have alphabetically organized in one of the cubbies. Beauty and the Beast, Ever After, Stardust, The Last Unicorn, The Princess Bride, among a few others.

He then steps over to your closet and pulls the doors open without even asking your permission first.

You don’t much react to him doing so, supposing that everything in there you’ve worn to school at some point anyway.

He’s met with skirts and sweaters and dress blouses. Another thing he’s going to have to change—your wardrobe. It isn’t exactly “frumpy”, but it isn’t feminine enough for his taste, either. He wants your clothes to reflect who you truly are. Sun and baby doll dresses, and tennis skirts with the right pretty tops will suit you far better. Sandals and delicate flats. Your hair curled and actually down for once, perhaps with a bow in it. And he’ll buy you a few nice pieces of expensive jewelry as well. Maybe take you on a shopping trip to Tiffany one day.

He closes the doors in front of him.

What he really wants is to go through not just your bedside table, but also the top drawers of your dresser. He's curious if you've ventured into the territory of lingerie and sex-toys yet. And if so, what your preferences are.

He doesn't like to imagine you using more than a vibrator on your clit to get yourself to orgasm. As for lingerie, he doubts that you own any, but he often pictures you in lacy panties and pastel teddy nightgowns.

He adds such things to his mental shopping list of things to one day buy you.

Speaking of orgasms, however, he'd come thinking of you nearly every night for the past week.

He imagined you on his bed, naked, your pussy soaked for him, your legs spread wide as he teased you until you were begging for him to put himself inside of you.

He imagined all the things he'd teach you in bed, sure that you're inexperienced.

And only after you promised him that you're his—belonged to him and wanted no one and nothing else but him—did he finally join your two bodies together.

Finally, he sits on the edge of your bed. He then glances to the chair which hangs from the ceiling in the back left corner of your room, directly facing where he now sits.

You walk over, sitting in it.

He then lays back on your bed, feet still planted firmly on the floor, arms folded behind his head—God, he’s so tall.

“Do you not get lonely here?” He asks, turning his head to look at you.

You lift one of your socked-feet onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your bent knee. You shrug.

He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

Your brows furrow. “Do what?”

“Act like you being left alone all the time doesn’t matter. It matters; you matter.”

You remain quiet. Then, “I’m used to it. I like being alone.”

He refuses to believe that, knows it’s bullshit.

You’d only spent a week together, and only a little over an hour every day at that, but it’d not taken but a couple of days for you to—at times—talk his ear off. At one point, it’d nearly gotten on his last nerve, until his stomach dropped and heart broke when he realized why: how fucking long had it been since you’d had someone—anyone—to really talk to? Someone who bothered to truly listen? How long had you stayed silent, withdrawing further and further into yourself, until you’d built up an entire fantasy world within your mind and soul, which became your new reality?

And so he promised to himself—and mentally to you—that he’d never, even if it were true—tell you he doesn’t care what you have to say. He won’t be just one more person to hurt and let you down. Just like he knows you won’t be as much to him.

You’re good for him. He could tell as much from the first day he spoke to you.

He stares at you for a moment, making you squirm. “I don’t believe that.”

“Ok.” You don’t particularly feel like arguing. He can believe whatever he wishes.

He frowns. He dislikes that you don’t seem to much care what his opinion of you is. He supposes it’s a strange dichotomy. Going from Cassie who, it was all she cared about, to you, who clearly can’t care less.

“You’re really telling me that talking to barely anyone at school, except occasionally Lexi, and being alone in this house all the time doesn’t ever get to you?”

You shrug. “It’s just what I’m used to.”

In all the talking to him you’d done over the past week, all of it had been surface-level. About history or the new book you were reading, or something you’d read in a news article. None of it was actually truly about you.

If his plan to get in deeper with you—to know you like no other person on the planet does—is going to work, then you need to give him more.

“What if it wasn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking up to the ceiling. “What if we started hanging out more often than just when we study after school? We could text or something, too.”

You appreciate his being concerned for you, you think it really kind of him. Even if makes you the least bit uncomfortable. You tell yourself it’s simply because it’s something you’re not used to: someone showing genuine concern for you.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

He looks at you again. “You wouldn’t be. I like spending time with you.”

You’re not sure how to respond, so you just say thanks.

“I feel like for the last week I’ve done nothing but ask you questions about yourself. Is there anything you want to know about me?”

He’ll never admit it, but your lack of interest in him hurts his feelings. It makes him feel like you aren’t nearly as attracted to him as he is to you.

“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He smirks. So that’s why. Always so fucking considerate; his sweet girl.

“You won’t.”

You think for a moment. The things you really want to ask him about are too personal this early on (even if you’d told yourself such things were none of your business, you can’t help wanting answers). Like why he despises his dad so much, and what happened with him and Maddy and Cassie. And what happened at that New Year’s party which landed him in the hospital?

You start smaller. “What made you want to play football?”

He considers giving you some bullshit answer—which will seem a plausible enough explanation—and giving you the actual truth. Finally, he decides on both. “It gives me something to do, for one. A reason to push myself harder. It gives me something to focus on. And football is a contact sport. So when I’m pissed off, I finally have something to take it out on.”

“Like when you’re angry with your dad?”

He grows silent.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

He shakes his head. “It’s ok. It’s not like I’ve exactly been subtle about my dislike of him.”

He doesn’t elaborate further than that.

“So…what’s your favorite color?”

He laughs. “I don’t know. Black, I guess.”

Somehow it seems fitting for him.

He looks at you, able to read you. “But that’s not the kind of question you want to be asking, is it?”

“I don’t want to overstep boundaries.”

He leans up on one elbow. “Then how about we make it fair? You ask me one actually personal question, and then I ask you one. And we both have to answer. No matter what. As soon as one of us refuses to, I head home.”

You think about it for a moment, worried about the sorts of things he may ask, but you have an out. “Deal.”

He smiles. “Alright, ladies first.”

“Will you tell me what happened during New Year’s?”

He sits up fully then. “Fezco smashed a bottle over my head, then beat me within an inch of my life. He got the upper hand immediately by doing what he did with the liquor bottle. He almost fucking killed me, all for a worthless druggy.”

Your brows furrow. “Who?”

“Rue went to him with some made-up story about me harassing her and some friend of hers online. When in reality I want nothing to do with her. So then he threatened to kill me and finally fucking tried to.”

“Why would she do something like that?” It feels like he isn’t giving you the whole story. He’s laid out the edges of a puzzle, but is withholding the middle.

He shrugs. “She’s a drug addict, how should I know?”

Before you can reply, can think of a polite way to say: so what’s the real story here, he takes his turn.

“How come we were never friends?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve known each other since we were five-years-old. We grew up together, have known each other for over a decade now. And only in the last week have we really finally talked, or spent any amount of time together.”

You lean back in your seat. “Well, just because you grow up with someone doesn’t mean that fact has to serve as some prerequisite to becoming best friends or something. Sometimes people, even from a young age, just don’t click. You were always running around on the playground, playing sports with others. I was always sitting off to the side and reading or coloring or playing with toys. I guess you were just more outgoing than me.”

“You know what they say: opposites attract.”

You tell yourself he’s just referring to friendship.

He lays back again. “Well, it may’ve only taken eleven years, but we’re friends now. I just… I just wonder what things might’ve been like had it happened sooner.” He sighs, then, “Your turn again.”

To an extent, you wonder that, too. Mostly just what it would’ve been like to have a best friend for that long.

“What happened between you, Maddy, and Cassie?”

“Not going to give me an easy one, huh?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Me and Maddy had been together since sophomore year. I guess we just grew comfortable with one another, even if we weren’t always happy. Even if it wasn’t always healthy. It didn’t start out toxic. We were happy at first. For awhile. A long while. But she just…it was like she wasn’t pleased unless we were fighting and then making up.

“It was just a constant cycle of her beating me down, then trying to build me back up again through sex. She just…she made me feel like shit about myself. As both her boyfriend and a man. It was like it wasn’t bad enough: the shit I dealt with at home with my dad. She just had to become one more problem in my life that I was forced to deal with.

“I’d hoped that if I loved her hard enough, if I gave her enough, she’d love me back the way I wanted to be loved. The way I loved her. Turns out I was just a fucking idiot.”

Tears sting your eyes. You feel so sorry for him. To be so young and to have already known an emotionally abusive relationship was heartbreaking. It was one reason why you refused to date at such a young age. You were all too young to understand yourselves, nevermind another person. Not in the context of loving and taking care of them, at least. You all were barely even fully-formed people yet.

So that was what Lexi had been referring to before. Just like everything, there were always two sides.

“And Cassie?” You ask, softly.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Just a giant fucking mistake. We first hooked up a couple weeks after Maddy and I had broken up…again. It happened on New Year’s Eve. I just…maybe I was trying to get even for what Maddy had done to me at the beginning of the school year—fucking a guy in the pool at McKay’s house—right in front of everyone.

"And then we hung out more, and at first I thought she was different. Maybe better for me. Until she started blowing up my phone with hundreds of calls and texts, screaming one night in my room about how crazy she was, how she’d never let me be with anyone else. How she was better for me than all the rest.”

Your brows raise. That unhinged? Cassie had always seemed so sweet and demure to you. But you’d also hardly ever been around her outside of school.

And dating—being in relationships—seemed to sometimes bring out the worst in people. Facets they themselves didn’t even know they had.

“I’m sorry, Nate. I never knew Cassie was so…” You trail off, until he fills in the rest for you.

“Psychotic?”

You laugh. “I wasn’t going to say it like that, but…” You shift legs, wrapping your arms around your other one now. “Your turn.”

He remains lying back, wanting this question to come off as something he’s casually asking. Whereas, in reality, he’ll be holding onto every word of your answer.

“Have you ever dated before?”

You feel like you suddenly want to use your out, but refrain. It’s a simple enough question, with a simple answer. “No.”

He looks over at you. “Never?”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh.”

His brows raise. He’d never known you to have a boyfriend before, but until recently he’d not exactly kept tabs on you.

It surprises him.

“Have you never kissed anyone or had sex?” He prays the answer to both is no. Also hopes you don’t cut his questioning you short.

You’re quiet for a moment, the two of you just staring at one another. Until, finally, you decide to answer. “No. And I’m not ashamed to say it. Not having done either of those things is a choice, just like having done them is as well.”

He sits up, hunching over to try and hide the erection he can feel forming.

No one has ever been inside of you—not in your mouth, not in your pussy, and not in your ass. Another pair of lips have never even touched your own, another tongue has never tasted you. Another pair of eyes has never explored your lovely naked body.

He wants to know what you do, then, to satiate yourself when the mood strikes. Do you rub at your clit until you come? Do you finger yourself—he wonders if your hymen is still intact? Do you bunch a pillow up between your legs, humping it until you've finished and the case is soaked? Or do you take and rub your teddy against your wet, needy pussy until you’re sore and can’t take it anymore?

God he wants to know what you fucking taste like. Wants to feel your fingers in his hair as he goes down on you. Needs to know what your perfect pussy feels like around his cock.

But he knows it’s too soon for any of that. For you, at least.

“That’s not something to be ashamed of. Not nowadays. You should be proud of yourself for having held out this long. I admire it.”

You shrug. “It’s not that hard to do.”

He smirks. “That’s because you’ve never done it before. Once you’ve been with someone in that way…giving up that kind of intimacy is difficult.”

You think any kind of intimacy must be hard to let go of after having it. Whether it’s emotional, intellectual, physical…sexual. Maybe it’s one more reason you keep most people at arm’s-length. If you never let anyone in, then you’ll never have to worry about losing them.

You clear your throat. “My turn.”

He lays back again.

“Can I ask about your dad?”

He flexes his jaw. “What about him?”

“Why do you hate him so much?”

There’s a long pause and then he finally sits up. “I guess it’s time for me to go.”

You plant both of your feet on the floor, now sitting on the edge of your swing-chair. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I was just curious. Since he always seems so…perfect, you hating him, I guess, is just a source of confusion for me. Then again, maybe that perfection is the source of it: your hate. I don’t know.”

“That’s part of it. But not all.” And that’s all the answer he’s willing to give you.

Letting onto his hate for his father in the first place was a mistake. But that loathing sometimes seeped out. And he feels like he can be honest with you. He trusts you. So, sometimes he lets go a little. That lid he keeps so tightly screwed slips loose sometimes in your presence.

He stands and you fill with guilt.

You’d gone too far. You’d known better—that asking about his father would end up being a mistake—but you’d brought him up anyway. And now you’d ruined the day.

“You really don’t have to leave. We can talk about something else?”

He pretends to consider that for a moment. When in reality, he’s all too-pleased that you’re so eager for him to stay.

Then, he steps over to you, standing in front of your seat, towering over you as you look up at him. He briefly thinks that this would be a perfect position for the both of you to be in as you take him into your mouth.

Then, he kneels down. One week was all it had taken for you to bring him to his knees.

He reaches up, grabbing either of the ropes the chair hangs from from on either side of you. “It’s Friday.”

You smile nervously. “That’s very observant of you.”

He smiles, letting out a small chuckle. “I just mean that it’s only four o’ clock; still early. We could go do something together.”

He begins to lightly swing you, just barely.

“Like what?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. I could take you to dinner, take you shopping. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, even if you just want to drive around.”

You don’t know how to respond to his offer. “You don’t have anywhere else you need to be?”

“Not at all.” He wants so desperately to touch you, but he sees you like a newborn fawn, easily frightened; skittish. So he refrains. For now at least.

You glance to the set of glass doors beside the two of you which lead into your backyard. At the sun still high in the sky and tree branches blowing lightly in the wind. And then you look back to Nate, seeing no good reason to waste such a beautiful day cooped up inside.

“Okay.”

He smiles. “Good.” He stands, offering you his hand.

You take it, doing the same. “I’ll just be a minute, I need to change again. Don’t really want to go out in sweats.”

He nods, going to leave, then stops by your closet. He pulls the doors open and you watch as he pulls out a light-pink sundress, then turns back to you, holding it out in your direction.

“You don’t have to wear it, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on you at school before. Just thought it might look nice.”

You gently take the dress from him.

He speaks before you can tell him no. “I’ll be waiting in the living room. Take your time.”

Once the door has shut behind him, you look down at the dress in your hands, then at the things you usually wear—the clothes you feel most comfortable in—beckoning you from your closet.

While you dress, Nate leans back on the couch, hoping you wear what he’s picked out for you. In truth, he wants to dress every inch of you. He wants to do your hair, your makeup—even if you never wear any. He wants to pick out a cute matching pair of lingerie for you—so only he knows what’s under your clothes—your shoes, your jewelry, even your perfume.

He isn’t sure why it means so much to him—perhaps it’s just another thing he feels the need to have control over. He wants you to look nice. He knows you’re capable of matching his ideal picture of what he wants you to be in his head.

When you finally emerge from your bedroom fifteen minutes later—you’d spent half of that time sitting on your bed considering putting the dress away—he’s left speechless.

You’d put on the dress, along with a cute pair of sandals, your toes already painted a pleasant shade of pink, which just so happens to match the item you’re now wearing. And between your breasts hangs a necklace.

You stand in the entryway awkwardly, one of your hands clutching your other arm. “I feel ridiculous,” you whisper, your face red.

He stands, coming to position himself in front of you. “You look beautiful.”

You’re surprised by his response. Wearing something which shows off so much of your body makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You’d considered putting on a cardigan to cover your arms, but it’s almost ninety-degrees outside. So you decided against it.

He reaches around to the base of your ponytail, his thumb, index and middle finger gripping your hairband. “May I?” He asks, looking down at you.

You feel dumbstruck by the sensation of the base of your hair in his grip, so you just nod.

He gently pulls the band free, your hair falling over your shoulders and down your back, coming to rest just above your ass.

He’s never seen hair as long as yours before. Why the hell do you keep it up all the time?

He flexes his hand, the holder now firmly around his wrist and he reaches up with both of his hands, running his fingers through your soft hair, massaging your scalp as he styles it.

You just stare up at him, his face the picture of concentration as his fingers work against your head, through your long strands of hair. Your eyelids droop just a bit out of the feeling of relaxation that comes over you, goosebumps rising on your arms.

Nate takes note of that, as well as the quiet whimper in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against the base of your neck for just a moment. He likes that you like the way he’s touching you. He wants to know what other places his fingers and hands could explore that would get him similar results.

Finally, once he deems your hair presentable to his personal satisfaction, half of it falling down your back, the other half split evenly over both of your shoulders, he slips one hand into his pocket, the other coming to rest under your chin, making you look up at him again.

He feels blood rush to his cock at the flushed, lax look on your face as your hooded eyes stare up into his own.

“Why don’t you wear your hair down more often? It looks very pretty like this.”

“It gets in my way,” you state, your voice now having a dreamy quality to it.

He really likes you like this. All soft and submissive and dressed how he likes. He wants you wrapped around his finger sooner rather than later. Completely his in every single fucking way imaginable.

Today will be one step closer to getting that future.

He deems what you’ve said a good enough answer, but he knows you’ll have to get used to it. Your hair being down suits you far better than it being up.

He steps away, walking over to the door, holding it open for you.

Once you’ve locked it behind you, he holds open the passenger side door of his truck for you, same as always, shutting it firmly once you’re inside.

#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader) #nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs imagine #euphoria x reader

[gallawitchxx]

29 for the kisses, please!

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send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

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#29: ...as a promise

The digital clock on the wall is a goddamn tease.

How is it only three-thirty?

It’s not the worst job in the world, working the reception desk at an auto repair shop. It’s mostly just answering phones and handing out intake forms. Running credit cards upon drop-off and pick-up, and using what little knowledge he has about cars to field basic questions. Ian’s a little surprised that his parole officer had stuck him in a place that was clearly running some kind of illegal chop shop after hours, but whatever.

Southside is as Southside does.

But today has been fucking dragging. A shipping delay had pushed a ton of work back a week or two, so there was only one pick-up on the books, and it had already happened. At nine a.m., right at the beginning of his eight-hour shift. One can only clean a desk so many times before starting to feel a little buzzed off cleaning spray fumes, so for the past couple of hours, Ian’s been supremely bored, his mind bouncing from one topic to another, trying to keep him occupied, but away from the mechanical sounds coming from the belly of the shop.

The ones coming from the only mechanic on duty today—Mickey.

Jesus, Ian’s got it bad for the guy.

Between Mickey’s filthy fucking mouth, greased-up knuckle tattoos, and the way his ass looks in a pair of coveralls, Ian never really stood a chance. But then he had to go and be funny and smart and secretly sweet with the kids who come in with their parents, and in no time at all, Ian was halfway to being fully in love.

The way Mickey looks at him doesn’t help the situation either, nor does the coffee and Kind bar combo he drops at Ian’s desk every shift, which means Mickey heard and remembered an off-the-cuff comment Ian made one morning when discussing break room snacks with the shop owner.

But what’s really making things hard—literally—is what happened the last time he saw Mickey…

A few nights back, a freak downpour had collided with a blocked drainpipe and flooded the shop’s main floor. They’d had to shut the whole place down so that the mechanics could instead work on pumping rainwater back outside where it belonged. When the worst of it was over, Mickey promised to take care of the rest, shooing the other guys out the door and home to their families. Ian, who didn’t have anywhere to be, and was a bit distracted by the way Mickey’s wet tank top was clinging to his cut chest, offered to stay and help finish the job.

Help Mickey out with another job, too...

But that was days ago, and even though Ian’s knees still ache from where he’d knelt on damp concrete, they haven’t talked since. Not even when Mickey had dropped off his breakfast! Ian had been on the phone, the timing of which felt suspect.

By the time four-o-clock crawls around, Ian’s worked up the nerve to go say something. But then the chime on the door alerts him to someone coming in, and before he can even say hello, some asshole is screaming at him about promised timelines and demanding a refund.

Ian puts on his best customer service smile and tries to smooth things out, but it doesn’t work. More yelling ensues.

“Ey, there a problem up here?” Mickey’s voice cuts through the noise.

“Yeah, there is,” spits the douchebag. “My car was supposed to be ready a fucking week ago, and this idiot here can’t seem to make that happen.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Mickey says, taking a step forward. “Imma stop you right there.” He looks at Ian for the first time (since he came down his throat). “Gallagher, can you head to the back and grab me the project file? Should be somewhere on my station.”

Ian blinks. “But the files aren’t—“

“Now, Ian,” Mickey commands, his blue eyes blazing. “Go.”

“Sure thing,” he says, rising from his chair.

The rage-red moron has the nerve to fucking smirk at him, and fuck, Ian doesn’t fight anymore—swore to his court-ordered therapist he was done with that shit—but this asshole just might get him back in the ring. His hands itch as he passes, clenching and un-clenching as his jaw clicks.

Mickey avoids his gaze, which pisses him off even further.

Ian forces himself onto the shop floor, closing the door behind him.

A few minutes later, Mickey joins him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Ian scans him for signs of a struggle, but he looks good. Great, even, his cheeks pinked. “You?”

“Course. Forget that dick. Caved quick and left. It’s a fuckin’ shipping issue, ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.”

Ian nods, unsure what to do or how to proceed. After a beat, he mutters a weak thanks.

Fuck, it’s awkward.

Then,

“Didn’t know—”

“Listen, man, I—”

They both stop talking, laughing nervously, the tension breaking just enough for some of their natural chemistry to seep back into the situation. Ian’s hands now itch with a wholly new desire to touch and caress instead of maim.

“I coulda handled him, you know,” Ian mutters.

Mickey chuckles. “Don’t doubt that for a second. Thought you were gonna fuckin’ deck that dude.”

“I was—I would have…” Ian shrugs. “But if I went back to prison, we couldn’t finish what we started the other night.”

And well, that gets Mickey’s attention.

“Guess that makes me a hero or somethin’ then, huh?” His voice is like gravel as he steps into Ian’s space.

Ian stares at his mouth. “Or something.”

“Tell ya what…” Mickey stares back. “He comes back, we’ll kick his ass together. Can pin it on me if the pigs show up.”

“Promise?”

Mickey answers with his lips, his teeth, and his sinful fucking tongue.

By the time they leave for the night, their knees have matching bruises.

#I LOVE YOU BESTIE #i hope you like this lil ditty #i just think they should always hook-up in their place of work #no matter the universe or circumstances #also please know that this was inspired by my desire for you to be done with work as quickly as possible #& also by howl who yelled at me to just WRITE A KISS ALREADY #thanks howl love you howl #anywhooo i failed to write another full kiss but at least there was tongue this time! #LOVE YOU JUJUBEE! #shameless #shameless fanfiction #prompt fill #ian x mickey

[soapymansuds]

Eternity and Counting

(Pt1) This is a running piece I've nearly finished, but the whole thing is way too long to post as one chapter sooooo... This part's pretty short just for the sake of timeline splitting.

Obey me! X Angel!MC (They/Them Pronouns)

TW: Suicide, depression, self-deprecation, death, big feelings, lots of sad, everybody is crying like all the time

MC just can't handle anything anymore and takes their own life. Imagine their dismay to find even death isn't the end for them.

(Takes place in the Frost Flowers event (sorta?), with mild "that chapter where MC finds out they're the Bridge" spoilers. Can't remember which chapter that was.)

~/\~

It's so heavy. This grand weight I've been lugging around since that day. I should have died. I was supposed to die. I would have deserved it too. All I've ever managed to do was cause problems for this family. And maybe I still am. The idea almost stopped me. Visions of their faces. Their tears. Their grief. It did, actually. A few times at least. But not today. It's happened again. Everything was going just fine until that God-forsaken dog decided I would be the object of his affection. Somehow, in spite of the threat it faced to the nation, the brothers refused to just hand me over. Almost losing not just their home, but their kingdom, for my sake. Yet again wasting their time trying to save me. Just like they did when my stupid power nearly killed Lucifer. When Lucifer nearly killed HIMSELF to save me. A bitter, evil part of me is still mad at Michael for stopping me. For saving me.

My arms feel heavy as lead as I lay here, counting away the seconds. I've got nearly an hour before anybody gets home from RAD. Plenty of time to make sure I stay dead. I feel a little bad for lying about being sick to get out of classes today. But maybe I am. Doesn't matter much now anyway. Really, my biggest concern in the current moment is how long it will take Barbatos to notice the ingredients I took. Sure, he's in classes right now too, but he pops in and out of the castle all day long. The likelihood of him stopping into the kitchen and noticing the cracked cabinet door, the scavaged shelves, and finally the open jars is uncomfortably high. In my defense, the chances of that happening while I was there were equally high, so I can't be blamed for the messy crime. But he's only got a few moments more before his discovery will be for naught, so I suppose it's not terribly worrying.

I can feel it, creeping up my spine like a cold massage. The ever-growing numbness. The slow death of my limbs. My lungs. Me. It's growing darker now, unnaturally so, even for The Devildom. I can finally free them of my burden. Free myself of it too. But I would like to offer a final scorn to whatever God allowed me to hear the gentle creaking of the front door.

~/\~

(Mammon's POV)

A chill runs through my spine,like something ominous is lurking behind me, but as I turn around, nobody's there. In spite of that comfort, I can't shake this overwhelming dread coating my nerves and sinking into my bones, urging me to move. Driving me to jog home. The gentle sway of the bag on my arm becoming notably more violent as it begins swinging by my side.

My hands can't work fast enough as I try to unlock the front door. I break into a near sprint as I approach their door, slamming it open.

"MC?" I call, it's dark in their room, but I can just make out the shape of their body resting in their bed. "Oh, you're just sleeping." I mumble, walking up to their bed and setting the bag on the ground next to it.

"Hey, I gotcha some human world medicines." I whisper, pulling a few bottles from the bag. "C'mon, you gotta wake up and take some."

I can't help but roll my eyes at their lack of reaction. "Been spending too much time with Belphie." I reach up to shake their shoulder gently.

Nothing happens. So I try again, fingers gripping just barely tighter. Tight enough to feel the unsettling chill of their skin. It seeps through my fingertips and into my soul. Gripping my heart in white hot fear.

"MC, wake up." I shake them again. "MC." Their name falls from my lips like a plea. "MC please-" I grab their other shoulder. "MC!" Tears spill from my eyes, breath shaky and ragged. "Wake up!"

(Raghhhh, sorry about this)

-Your dear friend, the author

#obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me angst #why did i make this #send help #obey me leviathan #obey me x mc #obey me belphegor

[lovemewednesdays]

monster trucks and a monster crush.

(Based off of this post from the lovely @ebongawk. If I had the spoons, I'd probably flesh this out a bit more, but for right now, it's just a bullet fic.)

The movie comes out in July.

Eddie and Chrissy aren’t dating yet, but they might as well be, seeing how they spend most of their time together.

Chrissy has been trying to figure out Eddie on a real date all summer with no luck, and then she sees an ad for Maximum Overdrive in the paper.

It was perfect – Chrissy doesn’t like horror that much, but she can stomach it for an hour and a half, especially if she got to look at Emilio Estevez in the process, and Eddie loves Stephen King, she’s seen the beaten-up paperbacks on his floor.

They’re on the couch in the trailer. Something’s playing on the TV. Chrissy’s not paying attention.

“Do you wanna go to the movies tomorrow?” she blurts out. "There's a new Emilio Estevez movie.” Eddie makes a face and Chrissy shoves him lightly. “It’s directed by Stephen King.”

“Oh, yeah. Heard something about that. It’s based on one of his short stories. Yeah, that’s cool, let’s do it.”

Chrissy smiles and snuggles back into his side. She feels like she’s floating.

It isn’t until Edde’s driving her back home that it hits her like a brick wall – what if Eddie doesn’t know it’s a date? They go to the movies all the time. He probably thinks it’s no big deal! It’s not! It’s the biggest deal!

She works herself up, her nerves getting the best of her, and when they pull up to her house, she jumps out and twirls around.

“BythewayImeanttomorrowtobeadate." His eyes widen as comprehension dawns and Chrissy has to leave. “Okay, bye!”

She sprints inside her house, leaving a shell-shocked Eddie behind.

(Chrissy doesn’t sleep well that night.)

(Neither does Eddie.)

The next day, Chrissy is ready to renege on the whole thing. They can just be friends. It was a stupid idea anyway, why would Eddie Munson ever date her?

The van pulls up, and as she makes her way over, Eddie pops out of the driver’s side and rushes over to open the passenger side door.

Chrissy stops. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt under his leather jacket and his jeans don’t have any holes in them. It looks like he even tried to comb his hair.

He’s holding flowers.

Eddie's smile is nervous. “Wayne says it’s always a good idea to bring your girl flowers on a date.”

Chrissy smiles and takes the flowers.

The ride to the theater was normal. They talk about Corroded Coffin’s next gig, about the kids at Chrissy's summer job, and if Wayne would actually go on that fishing trip he’s been talking about for months. 

Once he parks, Eddie jumps out of the car and opens the passenger door. “Milady.” Chrissy takes his hand, gets out of the car, and they head toward the theater.

They’re almost to the door when Chrissy stops. Eddie stops, too.

They’re still holding hands.

“If, um…I know that – I know I didn’t let you respond yesterday, so I totally get it if you, um, don’t want it to be a date.”

She tries to pull her hand away, but Eddie tightens his grip.

“I was gathering the courage to do it myself, you know,” he says with a wry smile. “You beat me to the punch.” He kisses the back of her hand. “C’mon. You gotta go drool over Estevez.” Chrissy laughs and lets him lead her towards the theater.

The movie is terrible. Schlocky. Corny. Chrissy’s almost embarrassed for suggesting it, but Eddie’s arm is around her and he’s laughing.

(He loses it after the baseball coach dies by demonic soda cans. The kid getting run over by a steamroller right after didn’t help. Chrissy elbows him and Eddie flashes her a grin. “Kid’s fine, Cunningham. The grass’s soft.”)

The credits roll and Eddie and Chrissy walk out into the lobby; Chrissy hides her face. “I’m sorry!”

Eddie’s face twists in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

“The movie was so bad! I don’t want our first date to be at a bad movie.”

Eddie takes her hands in his. “I had the time of my life watching that movie with you.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh, yeah! Watching a batshit-crazy movie about possessed eighteen-wheelers with my girl? Best day ever.”

Chrissy laughs and lifts up on her toes to kiss him. When she pulls back, Eddie grins widely and pulls her back in.

They get chased out of the theater by a miserable college kid in a neon orange vest grumbling about teenage hormones.

(When they make it out to the parking lot, Eddie stops her before she gets in. He lets go of her hand and splays himself against the hood of the van. “Now, Sheila. I know I just said that Chrissy was my girl, but I love you, too, and if you ever get possessed by an alien comet, please, please don’t kill us.”

Chrissy laughs and gets in the passenger seat as Eddie yells dramatically to be careful.

Eddie makes the movie his entire personality for weeks – whenever he sees an eighteen-wheeler, he screams and pulls Chrissy behind him. Sheila breaks down at the entrance to Loch Nora one night and he does his best Wanda June impression: “You can’t do this! WE MADE YOU!”

He takes the younger boys to see it and they join in on the theatrics. Steve and Nancy are ready to pull their hair out, but Chrissy loves it.

When the movie comes out on VHS, Eddie buys it immediately. They watch it every year on their anniversary.)

All in all, not a bad first date.

#hellcheer #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #obsessed with them #stranger things #nic writes

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 9.1 - tiny dancer

Rating: mature (angst, language, sexual content)

Word Count: 1700

a quick fluffy finale of the new year's eve chapter trilogy ;-)

☾

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady Seamstress for the band Pretty-eyed, pirate smile You'll marry a music man

☾

New Year's Eve 1983 - junior year

"Wait!"

You flinched at Eddie's sudden outburst, startling you in the calm atmosphere of the frozen lake. The brown-eyed boy leapt off the back of the van, shaking off the blanket that had been draped around his shoulders.

Watching him with amusement, you downed the rest of your beer, finally feeling a little warmth burning inside of you.

"The hell are you on, Munson?"

In a dramatic fashion, Eddie leaned forward in front of you with a hand outstretched.

"May I have this dance?"

"Uh… what?" you blurted out, looking around. You didn't really know what you were looking for, though, as the only thing around you was this spontaneous man with a permanent sweet smile on his face.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but didn't drop his hand. "Sunshine, did I stutter? Dance with me."

"I don't dance."

"You speak fucking French, but you don't dance?"

"Oui."

"Ugh!" He turned around, staring off into the pitch black night. You caught the subtle movement as he checked his watch.

Enjoying being stubborn, you reached for another can of beer and cracked it open. "You know, I never took you for the dancing type…"

But he ignored your comment, spinning around to face you again. Eddie stepped towards you and rested his hands on either side of where you sat, dangerously close to you. His mischievous eyes followed yours, then the beverage as you raised it to your lips.

"Could you be any more boring, Buckley?"

He knew damn well what he was doing. He knew exactly what would get you out of the van. Eddie challenged your bravery, contested your cool composure. And it worked.

You set down your beer slowly, refusing to meet his proud gaze. You took your time removing the blanket and eventually lifted yourself to stand before him.

"Well, what now?"

Eddie checked his watch again. "Give me your hands, I'll lead."

"It's freezing out here," you complained, dragging out the inevitable, but reluctantly placed your gloved hands into his.

He grinned at you and pulled you close. "Quit your bitchin'."

The fact that your stomach was doing tiny backflips wasn't lost on you. Somehow, Eddie was a furnace in the freezing darkness, his warmth radiating through the thick jacket covering his chest. You brushed your head softly on his chin, enjoying the glimmer of the rings on his hand in the soft light emanating from the open van.

Turning you slowly, Eddie rested one hand on your waist and held the other in his own hand. Swaying a bit, you heard him mumble close to your ear.

"Not that bad, is it?"

"But there's no music."

Taking you by surprise, Eddie began to hum. 

You couldn't quite place the song. But something about it felt like coming home, like reminiscing on a precious memory. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his collarbone. The vibrations in his chest as he hummed the tune could have lulled you to sleep if every nerve in your body wasn't on fire.

It could have been hours gone by, minutes, whatever. You didn't remember the last time you felt this kind of peace, the internal war raging within you coming to a halt.

"Five… four…"

Realizing that Eddie was suddenly counting down to midnight, your chest constricted with need. Lifting your eyes, his dark orbs weren't meeting yours, but rather he was watching your mouth. You couldn't control your urge to follow his lips as he proceeded to count.

"...three… two…"

Pushing up on your toes, the kiss you pressed to him was tender but as scorching as the sun.

Eddie grabbed you harder, pulling your ribcage against his as if he was afraid you might run off, his other hand holding the back of your head. You kissed him forcefully, needing him to know just how much you wanted it.

You didn't care that you probably tasted like beer, or that his jacket smelled slightly of cigarette smoke. You didn't care that it was freezing. You didn't give a flying fuck what your parents would think of this, or your friends at school. 

All that mattered was that Eddie was there, and he was holding you, tasting you. You melted together, ceasing to be separate individuals at that moment.

Fireworks began to pop across the lake, almost muted at the far distance. The lights distracted the man in your arms for a moment as he pulled away from you.

"No," you huffed, using your gloved hand to usher his face back to yours. You didn't care much about the fireworks. Only this.

Your demanding motion to continue kissing him almost sent Eddie over the edge. He pushed you closer to the van until the backs of your thighs hit the bumper.

You immediately lifted your backside into the van, wrapping your arms around him and urging his body to settle between your legs. Your kissing was sweltering, a hot beacon of light that rivaled the New Year's fireworks being set off across the lake.

But when you ran your tongue over his lip, asking for more, Eddie stopped.

He didn't move his feet though, keeping his stance firm with your legs resting on his hips.

"What's wrong?" Your breathing was ragged, your lips almost swollen.

Eddie sighed and rubbed his eyes, seeming to be on the hunt for the right words to say. "Nothing's wrong at all."

"Then come here," you hooked your index fingers through the belt loops on his jeans, tugging his hips closer to yours. 

But still, he stopped and moved away, leaning against the van next to you.

Eddie was quick to speak. "Before you say anything - that was the best fucking thing to happen to me in all of 1984."

You looked at him, still dazed by the kissing and sudden lack of warm contact. "But 1984 just started."

"I know, and I'm telling you. That was the best fucking thing. Thank you."

"You're… welcome?"

Eddie let out a bark of laughter, running a hand through his hair. He snuck a quick glance at you to see you smiling, too.

"Maybe if I'm lucky we can pick back up on this another time, yeah?" he suggested.

You looked away from him, the insecure voice in the back of your head wondering if you did something to turn him off. But you also weren't stupid. Horny teenage urges aside - Eddie was right, and nothing like this needed to be rushed.

Plus, they weren't even officially dating. You wondered if that was even a thing that Eddie Munson was capable of; you had never seen him with a girl before, but also never really went out of your way to look.

The comfort that you felt with him in the darkness of these winter nights made you feel like an entirely new person, the person you longed to be. Without prying eyes, without judgment from others. You found yourself dreading going back to school on Monday. The real world.

Eddie nudged your arm softly, breaking you out of your anxious thoughts. 

"You okay?" 

"What time is it?" You reached for Eddie's wrist, reading the time. "Shit, shit, shit. Can you take me home? But drop me off on the corner of my street, I told Robin I’d meet her an hour after midnight."

☾

Ballerina, you must've seen her Dancing in the sand And now she's in me, always with me Tiny dancer in my hand

☾

You wrapped your arm around Robin's slender shoulder as you both walked down the street to your house.

Eddie was gone, disappearing into the mysterious night. You had pecked him on the cheek as a farewell before exiting his van to wait for Robin under the streetlight. You sure you'll be safe getting home? …don't worry about me, Munson.

"So tell me all about your night, Robbie. I missed you."

Robin smiled briefly, her breath coming out like tiny clouds in the cold night air. "I got a New Year's hug. But hey, it was the best fucking New Year's hug I've ever gotten."

Eddie's words reverberated through your mind, but you shook them off.

"Really? Even better than the time Aunt Carol hugged you so hard her boobs knocked out your front baby tooth?" you joked.

You enjoyed making your younger sister laugh more than anything. Doubled over in a fit of giggles, Robin almost had tears in her eyes. 

"Oh my gosh, how do you remember that? I think my seven-year-old brain tried to block that from my memory."

"Me too, but Aunt Carol was a real trip. I still remember the look on your face."

Robin sighed, wiping tears of laughter from her blue eyes. "Happy New Year, by the way."

They walked slowly, strolling down the block, not in any rush to get back home to your parents. You pulled your sister a little closer.

"Happy New Year, Robin. One year closer to getting the hell outta Hawkins."

Side-eyeing her older sister suddenly, Robin pressed you for any details about your night. "Did you and Eddie have a good time?"

As usual, your defenses went up. You almost didn't want to answer your sister's innocent question.

For a split second, you genuinely questioned yourself, wondering why you felt so protective over your private life. Did you really have to hide your feelings for Eddie Munson? Did you really care what people thought of you?

When it came to Robin, no. But when it came to your looming fears over school on Monday morning, your stomach turned.

"I'll keep it simple for you. I had the perfect night. And I watched fireworks, too."

Robin's warm smile and a squeeze of her hand reassured you that life was good. Letting down your walls wasn't such a terrible thing.

☾

But, oh, how it feels so real Lying here with no one near Only you, and you can hear me When I say softly, slowly

Hold me closer, tiny dancer Count the headlights on the highway Lay me down in sheets of linen You had a busy day today

☾

(song lyrics credit: "Tiny Dancer" by Elton John)

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddiemunson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x buckley!reader

[444rockstargf]

"tearing around in my fucking nightgown." | s. reid

hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but i have it. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: you were hardly at fault. spencer had taken a late shift, and you needed to settle your nerves somehow...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords

female!reader x spencer

word count: 1.2k

contents: spencer takes the late shift at work, masturbation, cunnilingus (flashback), no proofread

you had been tossing and turning in your disheveled bedsheets for minutes that seemed like hours.

your hair laid in a scruffy mess on your head, your silk nightgown clinging to your flesh in an awkward fashion. it was a few minutes past midnight, and because of spencer’s absence, you were beginning to lose your mind. you were somehow sweaty in the bedroom that was always just a touch too chilly, a sticky film coating your skin.

you rolled over once again with a groan, wishing that spencer hadn’t taken the night shift. you couldn’t see anything in the blackness of the bedroom, with the exception of the sparse streaks of moonlight that seeped in from the window and the monotonous flicker of the time that flickered on the small digital clock beside you, seeming to be mocking the same sensation that played in your mind.

you’d gotten so used to the feeling of spencer’s big arms cradling you to keep you warm during the night. you longed to feel his body pressing up against yours as he shifted and mumbled in response to whatever he was dreaming about.

you tossed in the sheets, stretching out your arm to grab your phone off the bedside table. honestly, you were surprised that you were able to keep yourself together for so long. you thought you were going to crack hours ago. you scrolled down your call list, landing on the name titled with a heart symbol. you clicked the call button and waited for the recipient to pick up.

the phone rang once, twice, and many more times until you went to voicemail. frustration began to coil in your gut as you tried to call back, each time resulting in the same outcome. you couldn’t begin to explain this pathetic feeling of hopelessness and desperation that had overtaken you. 

you mindlessly scrolled through your old messages with him, missing him more than anything. you sat up in the bed holding your knees to your chest as you reread your texts with him. a smile tugged at your lips each time he said something corny in response to something provocative that you said. 

you stumbled upon an image that he had sent you from his office. he had positioned the camera from a higher angle, capturing his leaned-back position and a sneaky hand that pulled the waistband of his trousers down just enough to give you a sneak peek of his boxer briefs. he had a cheeky little grin on his face, his fluffy hair falling in perfect tufts over his forehead. the picture seemed to be crafted by the gods, from the lighting to the slight surge of lust it filled you with. it was perfection.

you felt a familiar heat pooling in your core as the image filled your head. your breath hitched as hunger began to fill the empty void in your mind. a switch flipped inside of you quickly and your hand had already found its way to your lacy panties.

you were almost surprised at how needy you had gotten so quickly. you were practically clawing at the skimpy material of your nightgown. 

your mind was flickering with images of him and you on your most intimate nights. him having you lying on your back as he pumped two fingers in and out of you, his soft words as smooth and sweet as honey…

“y-yeah, right there, spence…” you whimpered out as his slightly calloused fingertips brushed against your cervix. “oh yeah..? well… how does this feel..?” he began to curl his fingers ever so slightly, making your breath hitch as he rubbed slow circles onto your puffy clit. you rolled your hips against his hand, eager to feel him in every part of you. the simple act brought a smile onto his face, letting him know that he was doing something right.

he pressed his fingers against your bladder, making your whole body jerk. startled, he chuckled. “how does that feel?” you tried to formulate audible speech, but he began to pick up the pace, taking pleasure in the way you drooled and stammered. your pussy mimicked the lewd noises of your lips, the sticky sounds of your cunt almost too good to be true. “yeah… listen to that, baby…”

your fluids of arousal dripped along his fingers, trailing down his veiny hands. the folds of your pussy fluttered around him, greedily swallowing his digits. you pressed your legs together as that unmistakable band began to tighten in your stomach, but he pushed your legs open, letting his hand rest on your inner thigh. “c’mon, baby. i’m not done with you yet…” 

you were falling apart, the rapid beating of your heart syncing with the way your cunt pulsated. a stupid little grin was plastered on spencer’s face the entire time. he loved the way he could make you go dumb for him, the way you turned into silly putty with a few pumps of his fingers. the inside of your sticky walls felt like velvety silk around his fingers. 

he couldn’t take his eyes off of your puffy lips and tear-glazed eyes. to him, there was no greater pleasure than making you feel on top of the world. 

you bit your lip hard, the iron tang of blood filling your mouth as he connected his lips to your cunt just as your orgasm was on the way. he flicked his tongue on your swollen pearl, mumbling mindless praises into your core. 

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he found the perfect rhythm between his tongue and fingers. he grabbed a handful of his hair, grinding your hips against his face. he groaned deeply into your body. “t-that’s it, honey… use me…” you shuddered each time he swirled his wet tongue across your folds.

the weaker you became, the faster he went. the room filled with the hungry sounds of the base of his hand slapping against the entrance of your hole as he fingered you at lightning speed. his chest heaved up and down, your overstimulated moans becoming louder. “o-oh my gosh, spence… i-i… i can’t take anymore..!”

his mouth was already filling with the delicious taste of your cum, but he wanted to maximize your orgasm to its fullest. he dug into you, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he buried his face into your body, not even taking a second to breathe. his tongue hungrily ran up and down your slit, making the band in your stomach snap. “s-spencer, i’m cumming..!”

~

you snapped back to reality from the feeling of your body convulsing around your fingers. you panted rapidly, looking down and seeing the wet, sticky mess that you created all over the bedsheets. beads of sweat rolled down your forehead as you looked around the room as if you had just woken up from a nap.

your eyes landed on the clock, reading the time. 12:48am. you sighed deeply. you hadn’t meant to get lost in the overwhelming feeling, but you just couldn’t resist it. it had almost felt as if spencer was actually there. but something good had come out of it.

you found your eyelids getting heavy with exhaustion as you slipped back under the covers, pulling the blanket over your warm body and setting your head onto your pillow. you looked at spencer’s side of the bed, taking in his absence. lifting up your head, you switched your pillow with his, setting your head back down and inhaling the heart-warming scent of him, finally being blessed with the gift of sound slumber.

author's note: i'm sick :((

#444rockstargf #smut #lana del rey #bau team #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid art #spencer reid aesthetic #spencer reid au #spencer reid angst #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid core #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid cm #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid edit #spencer reid fanart #spencer reid fandom

[miodiodavinci]

(lays down in a field of soft cotton) i accept my fate. but begrudgingly.

#i have been. pouring as much of my free time as possible into this project. #and yet i am continuously confounded by my incredibly slow work flow and my university hounding me for documents #in addition to what i can. only assume is burnout creeping in on my psyche hhh #which is to say that my focus is abysmal #it takes me hours to work up the nerve to work #and it feels mind-numbing once i actually start to push through #(and the entire time i am craving games and chatting with friends on such a visceral level it makes me ill hgasdkjsdfkj) #i want to say 'ahhh i'll take a break to just hang out with friends once i get this step done' #but i know this break will last several days and i am also internally screaming over how quickly my internship is rushing up on me #and how i know that in A Very Short Period Of Time my free time will be reduced to -100 #it is. a very sucky place to be. #need a break . . . . . but gotta get this done before the deadline . . . . . waughh ; ; ;

[dandyshucks]

need Guz to hug me tightly for like an hour solid oh my god dhdjdkl I went driving for the first time in over a year and I chewed my lip raw 😭😭

I'm starting to look like a caricature of Anxiety with all these physical symptoms and signs LMAO

#this is so ridiculous fhfjdkdl #i do not like driving fjdkdl i know i should not be on the roads #but unfortunately i have to bc i live rural and also my parents insist i ''just need more practice'' #practice is not going to fix the dissociation 😭😭 practice will not fix the Other Drivers being shitty and scary and reckless fjfkdl #it might make it slightly easier bc i wont have to think as hard about shoulder and mirror checks and roadsigns and speed limits #and where i am located on the road and intersection rules and whatnot #but like... it does not fix that i live in a town (and world lol) where ppl are fucking bonkers on the road #i had someone riding my ass for like a full five minutes. we had only two feet btwn us. MAYBE. IF THAT MUCH. #he was BIG mad that i was going the speed limit #and THERES A POLICE STATION LIKE RIGHT NEAR THAT AREA MY GUY IM NOT GONNA GO OVER THE SPEED LIMIT RIGHT THERE LMAO ???? #also im a rule follower usually so i do tend to go Exactly the speed limit fjfkdl #and maaannn that makes people SO fucking angry dhfjdl its impossible to drive Anywhere without having someone right on ur bumper #its so ridiculous like... that's not helping anyone ??? ur not getting to ur destination faster by riding up on somebodys ass ???? hewwo ??? #ANYWAYS. i drove around the neighborhood and then went up the highway and thru some intersections and then into the main core of town #and then i got my dad to take over from there bc it was lunch hour and the core of town is a lawless land at the best of times #MY NERVES ARE FRIED. i need Guz to act as a weighted blanket or one of those pressure therapy vests for me LOL #im like... shaking fhdjsl that was far more than i thought we were going to do for driving today good lord #IM OKAY THOUGH I SURVIVED I DIDNT EVEN HIT A CURB OR ANYTHING #i think I've only hit a curb once so far in all my times driving and that was on my second time driving on a road i think #so pretty good track record... im a very careful driver fjdkdl i work so hard to be safe and drive smoothly #during my driving test the only thing the test guy had to critique was that i waited at an intersection when i could've gone #but the reason i waited was bc i wasnt sure i could make it across the traffic lane before the oncoming vehicle got to us #so it was like. a safe decision overall but a little too hesitant which can actually be unsafe fjdkdl #AUGH ANYWAYS SORRY FOR RAMBLING SM #driving stresses me out so bad and my lip is all raw now and i have so many physical stress symptoms the past few days fhfjdl #after tonight i should be able to calm down a bit hopefully fhfkdl theres a thing we're going to tonight thats been stressing me out so bad #but after tonight it'll be over and hopefully I can get myself settled down again fjfjdkl #dandy.cmd #vent //

[strongintherealgay]

while we're being anticapitalist please remember that you should still care about your coworkers

#cannot take you seriously if you knowingly fuck over your coworkers and then act like you're the perfect little leftist #babe commit time theft just actually show up to lunch close to on time five times in a month #i don't mean that they're only 10 minutes late i mean that they took over an hour on lunch yesterday and had the nerve to complain #my closest work friend bullied me into taking a break once this particular coworker came back since i hadn't had my break yet #for the record this coworker was also late coming into work that day so they didn't help us open and then was constantly making calls #that's not anticapitalist that's just fucking over the few people you claim to like at our job #sorry not sorry about the rant in the tags this is my post and my blog

[ghosty-schnibibit]

in honor of the halloween season, enjoy this rendering of me looking for one for one of the dogs in the main bedroom of the house i'm currently petsitting for and finding the masked dummy their eight y/o put on the nightstand that absolutely scared the shit out of me

#'this will only take two minutes to color' i said. 'i'll just clean up the lines and shade it a bit' i said. THREE HOURS LATER- #once again proving to myself that drawing creepy shit is where my art style works the best lmao #not my most polished work but for a quick doodle that took more time to color than i thought it would i'm happy with it #for context i have also babysat for them before and said eight y/o is a super sweet kid and absolutely put this up to prank me #and after i got over the abject horror i did think 'man he's going to be excited when i tell him he got me with that' #also this happened at like 10 at night and it was storming and the rest of the house also tons of halloween decorations up #my nerves they were a jangled #my art #i did take a picture of it but putting photos the interiors of other people's houses online w/o their consent a no go for me

[insanecowposse]

i wish i had it in me to actually try and talk to people online

#as it is now it takes me hours to work up the nerve to message someone ive never talked to before #ill probably be like this forever #so it goes

[floral-hex]

Can’t tell if I’m so anxious because of drug withdrawal or it’s just because I have a bad brain 😓

#I took buspar for about 4 nights then had to stop because it put me on edge #first night without it and I’m hit with the same feelings again #just sad and hopeless and my nerves feel sick #I had thought there wasn’t supposed to be any real withdrawal from that stuff #so maybe this is just me being sad #quick rant: I feel so hopless and alone and scared #it’s 4:30am and I know there’s nothing I can do right now about it so I should just chill out #brains suck #just go to sleep! #I have my first therapy session tomorrow/today so we’ll see #and I’m realizing now I really need to bite the bullet and apply to some jobs #any jobs. even if I’m afraid my hearing will go out and I’ll fuck up working #I NEED to get out of this house more. I NEED money. I NEED some hope for a future. #I want moneyyyy so I can go out to eat and take my brothers to the movies and help my mother with bills #I can’t just stay awake all night suffering. I need to be productive. #ian I swear you will feel so much better with a purpose #even if that purpose is just to work a register for a few hours a day #it’ll be okay #we can do this. we’ll talk to the therapist tomorrow. we’ll call our doc and bitch about our meds. we’ll apply for jobs #we’ll shower and eat and go out in the sun and it’ll be okay #baby steps baby #get a job. get money. buy a burger. find someone to kiss once or twice. #I can do this #I feel everything falling apart and fading away and I have to fight that #I’m fighting it now just verbalizing this and it’s helping #it’ll be okay ian! #life can still be beautiful! #you’re afraid of losing everything well then fucking grab it hold it do what you can #I’m so fucking scared but I have to try #text

[britneyshakespeare]

im just gonna tmi-medication share in the tags real quick

#tales from diana #i want to preface this with i've been prescribed adderall as-needed for adhd for a fullllll decade now #don't come at me with anti-adderall or anti-adhd-medication bullshit im not here for it!! #but my health problems have been so bad and ive been getting the worst sleep of my life lately no matter WHAT i do #i can do everything right #and btw i do not take adderall every day. which is implied by as-needed but i want to stress again I DONT NEED IT EVERY DAY #only when i do like. work. which ive been doing less and less bc of health problems! #but even though i havent been able to physically work so much i still have been taking half-doses a couple times a week just to like. read. #just to have a brain to do ANYTHING when everything is so awful and my brain is so foggy #ive always *sometimes* cut my doses in half if im not doing so much. just to save it y'know. #and ive always also *occasionally* gotten worse or even a really bad night's sleep after taking adderall #most commonly i'll wake up absurdly early the next morning and not be able to fall back asleep #rationing sleep is always something ive been in the habit of doing anyway as a person w adhd. #sleeping 4-6 hours during the week and 10-12 hours on weekends. just to make up for the deprivation y'know. #but even lately cutting my regular dose in half. it's still too much. #my current dose btw is already half of what it was in high school! i decreased my dose already years ago #but yesterday i finally got the nerve to take. a damn quarter of my own pill #and i took the smaller quarter of the half i cut in half. #i was def taking less than 5mg of my damn medication #and i actually didnt sleep like complete shit! and i was also worried #it might not be so effective. #but it actually worked quite well. i had enough focus to read for several hours #i had energy throughout the day too #i sometimes try to do caffeine on days i cant/dont wanna take adderall but caffeine just does not do the addy things so effectively. iykyk. #i cant believe i have to be so skimpy w my own life-sustaining mental health medications just bc my physical health is so bad #but whatever. whatever! #im gonna take another quarter-dose today and finish pericles prince of tyre. have a great day everyone

[tyrannuspitch]

i hate performance anxiety why is having hobbies SCARY!!! i am literally just a creature trying to live!!!

#i know everyone gets nerves when sharing art #but i also get nerves every single time i sit down to try and MAKE anything. in the privacy of my own home #and it regularly takes me hours to work up the courage to begin ;-; #this is why i quit music as a teen btw. could not STAND to practice and get things wrong :( #wh. when the feelings of tension and apprehension. are persistent and pervasive. :|