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luvyeni · 5 months

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❛NO NUT NOVEMBER❜ ( s. jake )

p. sim jaeyun x fem!reader w. 2.5k+

— 𖦹 warnings. unprotected sex, name calling, dry humping, name calling

— 𖦹 ( making jakes life a living after he challenges himself with his friends in no nut november ) !

OCTOBER 31, 2023 — THE NIGHT BEFORE !

“What would do if you had to give up sex for a month?” Heeseung asked, “Could you do it?” Jay scoffed at the question. “You’re asking Jake of all people.” Jake smirked shamelessly — “Me? I could definitely do it, but my girl? No she would kill me if I didn’t give her what she wants.”

And he wasn’t wrong, you and jake were known as the couple who was still in their honeymoon phase — couldn’t keep your hands off each other. “Don’t blame just yn, you both are two nymphomaniac, neither of you could do it.” Sunghoon said. “You wanna bet?”

“You guys want to make this a competition?” Heeseung said. “Who ever wins, the losers have to all pitch in and buys the winner the newest game system.” Jake eyes widened, he couldn’t past this up — but you were gonna kill him, you weren’t gonna be happy. “Fine I can’t wait to get a new game.” Heeseung said, jake scoffed. “Please you’re gonna be jerking off by 1 o’clock.” He stood up.

“Where are you going jake?” Jay said, he checked the time, 8 o’clock. “Where do you think I still have 4 hours, i’m going home to fuck my girl then beg for her not to kill me.”

“Fuck!” You screamed as jake slammed into your sopping cunt, your ankle digging into his back. “Jake i’m cumming!” You moaned, “I’m cumming!” He grunted, fucking into you, soon his warm load was spilling into your cunt. “Fuck baby you feel so good.” He sighed, slipping out of you. “Fuck baby I love your pussy so much.”

He got up to get a rag to clean you off — leaving you to ponder, this sex felt different, like it felt like the sex you’d have have when he was sorry for something. You watched him clean you up, helping you into a pair of his underwear along with his shirt. “What did you do?” Sat up.

He laid down next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. “Well you what No Nut November is right?” Of course you weren’t stupid, you just didn’t think your boyfriend was stupid enough to do something like that — but the look on his face made you think other wise.

“Jake no.” You whined, “i’m sorry baby.” He said. “Why would you even agree to do something like that?” You tried to make sense of it. “A new game system.” He said, you stared blankly at him. “I’ll go buy you the game system now, go get my computer.” You said, he laughed. “No baby, you know I can’t allow you to do that, only I spend money in this relationship.”

“It’s just a month, I swear — besides I can still make you cum in other ways.” All though you love his fingers and his plumps lips — his cock just hit different. “Whenever you need me just need to sit that pretty ass on my face and I can give you what you want.” He smirked. “Or I can use my fingers if you like.” His hands traveled up your legs.

“Let’s go again.” He said, his cock hardening all over again. “No, i’m sleepy.” He whined, knowing you were just punishing him. “Baby please, it’s still 20 minutes left.” He said, but it fell on death ears. “Go jerk off.” You heard him huff, before you heard shuffling and him getting off the bed. “Have fun.” You smirked, you were gonna make him wish he never even thought about this stupid ass challenge.

NOVEMBER — WEEK ONE !

It had been about a week since jake basically put you on a no sex band — you both had been pretty busy with your own separate lives that week, so you were too tired to even think about sex at the end of the day.

But today you both had a day off — and you were definitely feeling needy. “Hi baby.” You walked into the living-room where jake was watching tv. He smiled as you climbed into his lap, his hands resting on your lower back. “Hey princess you okay.”

You nodded, running your hands through his hair. “Just a little bored.” You said, he completely missed what you were implying. “Yeah?” He sighed as you played with his soft locks. “You want to go out and do something?” You shook your head, he closed his eyes, you smirked at how easy your boyfriend was — you don’t even know why he chose to do this.

You began to place little kisses on his jaw, down to his neck. “Baby.” He warned, his breath shaky. “Baby, let’s calm down.” But of course you didn’t listen, jake felt his cock twitching in his jeans, he couldn’t go out like this, he had something to prove, but jesus you weren’t making it easy.

“Jakey i’m just getting myself off, you said I could use you if I needed.” You smirked, grinding down on his boner. “Y-yeah baby, but -fuck- just let me eat you then.” He groaned, but you didn’t answer, too busy trying to get yourself off.

He groaned as you rocked back and forth, your moans wrapping around his brain. “Jake!” You squealed. “Jakey i’m gonna cum.” He was fighting demons right now — trying his best not to lift you up and fuck you stupid on the couch. “Fuck i’m cumming!” You yelled, legs shaking as you came.

“Baby.” He whined, his cock was hard as a fucking rock — he was scared to even think a dirty thought cause he wasn’t sure that we wasn’t going to cum untouched. “You cannot do that, i’m not gonna make it if you’re like this.” He said. You smiled, sitting up kissing his cheek. “Just cause you did this to yourself doesn’t mean I should suffer should I?” you got off the couch.

“Where are you going?” He asked, his cock still hard. “Gonna shower, i’m all sticky and sweaty.” He groaned, throwing his head back against the couch.

You were not gonna make this easy for him at all.

NOVEMBER — WEEK TWO !

“Please.” You begged, but jake wasn’t letting up. “It’s just a shower.” You pouted, he couldn’t say no to that — but he knew you weren’t gonna just shower with him in peace. “baby I know where you’re going with this.”

“Please, just a shower, I swear.” He look into your puppy like eyes, he sighed — how was he so desperately wrapped around your fingers. “Fine, just a shower.” You nodded, grabbing his hand guiding you to your shared bedroom.

You undressed yourself — jakes eyes traveled across your body, your perky boobs on display, your plump ass on display as you turned on the water. “Come on.” He waited for you to step in before he followed, standing behind you. “Jesus princess this water is hot as hell.”

You smiled, turning around facing him, reaching up wrapping your arms around his shoulders, the water running down your body, in between your boobs — you weren’t even doing anything but his cock was already hardening, twitching against your stomach. “Shit baby, I don’t think I can be in here long, your pretty body is too distracting.”

“Why wont you just quit them?” Your hand traced up and down his abs — light grazing his cock, but it was enough to have him hissing. “it’s just a stupid game system.” You said, he groaned — he knew you’d be like this, but he fell right into your trap anyway. “It’s not just the game, it’s to prove I have self control.”

“You don’t and that’s why I love you.” You kissed his chest, he sighed. “Im so horny jakey.” You whined, he closed his eyes trying to calm down. “You want me to finger you princess?” He hoped that would calm you down, but you just whined, shaking your head. “Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, I need your cock.”

You grabbed the base of his cock. “B-baby.” He stuttered. “I need you inside me.” You prayed he’d let up and fuck you — you almost had him. “Please.”

Fuck he couldn’t, he had something to prove. “Baby im sorry.” He said, you pouted. “Just a little longer I swear.” You released his cock and he let out a groan. “You’re so mean.” You pouted, he smiled. “Don’t smile at me.” You said, folding your arms.

“You almost had me baby.” He kissed your forehead. “Now im gonna get out and let you finish your shower.” He said, stepping out wrapping his towel around his waist. “What about me, im still horny.”

“you said it yourself princess, my fingers aren’t enough anymore.” He teased, leaving the bathroom. You cursed, he won this time.

But you weren’t gonna let him win that easily…

NOVEMBER — FINAL WEEK !

“Fuck.” He groaned, looking at the numerous of photos and videos you decided to grace him with — he had to stay at his dorm this week, but that didn’t stop you from torturing him via messages. His cock was desperately trying to free itself from his jeans as he looked at a video that you sent of you rutting against his pillow.

“Fuck shes trying to kill me.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “The hell is wrong with you?” Jay said. “You’ve been groaning for the past hour, someone might think we’re in here doing something.” Jake couldn’t even laugh he was that turned on.

“It’s yn, she has not been easy on me these past couple weeks.” He said, jay laughed watching his friend stress out. “Yeah, haha make fun of me, how the hell are you not going through what i’m going through?” He and jay were the last ones standing with heeseung out the second week — claiming he’d just buy the game himself, and sunghoon who found himself giving up the night of jakes birthday party, with one of your friends.

“Because i’m not a sex crazed person and I can control myself.” Jay said, jake groaned once again. “I didn’t expect her to be like this.” He said looking at the the newest photo of you, your fingers stuffed in your soaking cunt. “Are you seriously looking at nudes of your girlfriend right now while i’m talking to you?” Jay said, face full of disgust, standing up. “Jesus at least wait until I leave the room.” He said.

“i’m not giving up that easy!” He yelled, grabbing a towel, cold showers were like his best friend as of lately.

He couldn’t wait until this dumb challenge was over.

NOVEMBER 30, 2023 11:57 !

‘Fuck you, you just had to go and win.’ ‘you actually beat me, you fucking asshole.’ ‘what games do you want?’

He smiled victoriously at the text messages from his friends. He checked the time, and he was just on time — he got up, going into your shared bedroom, you were so unaware, watching the tv not paying attention to the time, like he had for the entire day.

“I won.” He said, finally gaining your attention. “Huh?” You turned to him confused. “What are you talking about?” You were laughing, but the way you had teased jake almost every day this month, you soon weren’t about to be. “I won the game, jay lasted until a few minutes ago.”

You checked the time, your heart sank — it was now midnight, December 1 — you were starting to regret doin everything you did during the month. “Jake.”

Before you could say anything else his lips were crashing into yours. He messily kissed you, trying to get his shirt over his head. Once he did that, he pulled away his lips swollen and red, both of you breathless. “I was gonna be nice princess, but you haven’t been nice to me at all this months.” He rid himself of pants, climbing on the bed. “Jake I was needy and you were ignoring me.” You pouted, trying to find a way out of it.

“Yeah, so that means act like a slut?” He slapped your thigh, pushing them open. “So desperate to get off you even humped my pillow like a bitch in heat.” You moaned out, you missed this. “Couldn’t get wait, just had to cum.” He cupped your heat. “Your pussy is soaking through your panties.”

He practically ripped your panties off. “Even through all the teasing I was gonna treat my baby like this princess she use to be, but then earlier you decided to hump my thigh like a needy whore.” He manhandled you on to your stomach, lifting your hips up, putting a pillow down for comfort. “so now i’m gonna fuck you like a needy whore.”

This is all you wanted — for the entire month this is all you wanted, was for him to fuck you stupid. “Pl-please jakey.” You moaned, he slapped your ass. “Shut the fuck up.” He pumped his cock, groaning as he pressed his tip at your entrance. “Shut up and take my fucking cock.”

He slammed into you without easing in, you let out a scream of pleasure as his cock stretched out your cunt. “Fuck your pussy is so tight.” He had to calm himself down, he was so pent up he felt like he was gonna cum if he moved. “Missed it so much.”

You wiggled your hips impatiently. “J-jake please.” You whined, he slapped your ass. “Fuck.” He pulled out, slamming back in. “So fucking impatient.” He moved his hips. “Couldn’t even wait a second.” He grunted, gripping your hips as he roughly fucked into you. “Jake.”

He let out all his pent up frustrations on your poor cunt, pushing your back down into a a deeper arch — his cock hitting a new spot, you were gripping the pillows as he plowed into you. “That’s it, take my cock slut.” He grunted.

You felt yourself about to cum, your cunt tightening around his cock. “No baby, you don’t get to cum right now, fucking hold it.” He growled, you whined. “J-jake please.” You begged, tears welding in your eyes. “I said fucking hold it slut.”

He kept going, you could no longer hold it. “Jake!” You screamed, tear streaming down your eyes. “Cum, go a ahead and cum slut.” He slapped your ass once more, you screamed cumming around his cock. “That’s it cream my cock -fuck- i’m about about to cum inside your pussy.” He grunted, thrusting a few times. “Fuck!” He came with a moan, filling your cunt up with his cum.

He gave you a few second to compose yourself, before handling you back on your back. “I’m not done baby.” He grabbed the base of his cock, positioning it at your hole that was leaking with his cum, pushing himself back into your hole. “Jake, fuck!” You screamed.

“Gonna fuck you as many times as you teased me, gonna leave your pussy sore.”

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #sim jaeyun x reader #jake sim smut #jake sim imagines #jake sim x reader #jake x female reader #jake hard thoughts #sim jake #jake smut

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reasonsforhope · 5 months

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"Shopping for clothes is already intimidating. There are so many options and styles to consider, as well as factors like sustainability and ethics.

But for people in fat, disabled, or queer and gender-nonconforming bodies, it’s even more arduous.

Nico Herzetty, Emma K. Clark, and Paul Herzetty wondered: What if there was a way people could shop — not necessarily by color or size — but by measurements, materials, and ethics?

So they set off to create their website: Phoria.

Here, shoppers can set up a free profile, add their body measurements (and “typical fit challenges”) and peruse over 270 brands. Once these data points are entered, users can personalize their pages with “saved,” “recommended,” or “hidden” brands.

Pages can be totally private, or shared with the community to connect over styles and brands.

Aside from fit, brands in the Phoria database (which claims to be “the largest database of plus-friendly brands”) can also be filtered as “gender-neutral,” “woman-run,” “small business,” or “natural fibers.” Users can also filter for price, preferred styles, and more.

Pictured: A screenshot of the "Fit Challenges" feature on a Phoria user's profile.

Some brands include popular names like Athleta, Levi’s, and Patagonia. Others are small businesses, like Beefcake Swimwear, or Hey Peach.

“For so many people, it feels too damn hard to find and keep clothing that fits in all the ways that really matter. So we’re doing something about it,” the Phoria website reads.

“Unlike most online shopping experiences, we center the needs of plus-size women, nonbinary, and trans people, and prioritize supporting clothing brands focused on sustainability, ethics, and inclusion.” ...

That team — made up of Clark, and Nico and Paul Herzetty — calls themselves “fat, disabled, and very, very queer.”

“These are some of the main ways we identify, and they’re qualities that have directly impacted our ability to get dressed every day in a way that feels good,” the Phoria team introduces themselves on the website.

Pictured: A screenshot of Phoria's plus-size clothing brand database.

In addition to catering the user experience to women, non-binary, and trans people, Phoria is also a benefit corporation, or a B corp.

“We’ve legally required ourselves to consider the interests of all our stakeholders — customers, employees, the planet, and our shareholders,” the Phoria website explains.

“Our specific public benefit purpose is to reduce people’s dependence on buying mass-produced items made in unsustainable ways and to use human-centered business models to boldly challenge economic systems of inequity.”

Right now, in the early stages of the company’s business, it doesn’t make any money.

“We’re focused on building something that genuinely solves plus-size people’s challenges around clothes shopping and supports smaller and more sustainable brands,” Phoria’s website states.

So, spreading the word seems to be of utmost importance...

Additionally, TikTok creators @couplagoofs (a queer couple named Morgan and Phoebe), recently shared a video in which they discovered Phoria. They met the website’s creators at a fat liberation event in their city and were introduced to the tool.

Quickly, commenters responded with gratitude and excitement.

“It is so disappointing to sort through pages of plus size clothes that aren’t even plus size,” a TikTok user commented. “This is gonna be such a good tool!”

Some even shared emotional responses, speaking to the need at the heart of Phoria’s mission.

“I’m… gonna cry,” another commenter wrote. “I’ve needed this my whole life.”"

-via Goodgoodgood, November 20, 2023

#clothing #plus size #size inclusive fashion #body positive #fashion #slow fashion #style #gender affirming #trans inclusive #gender euphoria #disabled #lgbtq #gender nonconforming #small business #ethical fashion #ethical business #fatshion #fat positive #body positvity

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catfern · 6 months

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1 MILLION SUBSCRIBERS SPECIAL

pairing: ghost hunter!ellie x afab!reader (feminine pronouns used)

music: eyes without a face - billy idol

word count: 2.3k

summary: ghost hunter!ellie needs a new assistant to help film her 1 million subscribers special in a supposedly 'haunted house'. good thing you'll do anything she says.

warnings: SEXTAPE, oral (r!receiving) fingering (r!receiving), ghosts? spooky business, ellie is a shitty clickbait youtuber

an: heyyy this came to me in a dream. nothing much else to say. get ready to fuck dirty while ghosts watch idk. this is probably gonna be my only halloween fic while we're still in october. got some other ideas tho so get ready for a spooky november

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“come on! come on! it’ll be fun! something memorable on halloween.”

“jesus, ellie, you know I don’t believe in that shit.”

it’s a coy laugh. your fingers dance over your phone, unsure what to do. you didn’t believe her when she jumped and screamed, bolstering about her 1 millionth subscriber.

‘The Ghost Detective.’ her youtube profile was almost as shoddy as her Mr. Beast-esque clickbait video titles.

“then it doesn’t matter!” she had a hold on your forearm, intermittent squeezing begging you to fold, “please? the last girl I had thought her dead mom was talking to her and ran off.”

she had an almost pitiful look in her eyes, her eyebrows screwed together as she pleaded.

fucking hell. you were convinced if you hadn’t met ellie, hadn’t started falling behind her like an obedient dog, you’d actually submit most of your assignments on time.

“fine.”

it wasn’t that your tiny town was particularly superstitious, or religious, or any other ‘-itious’, but it was in unspoken agreement that there was something inexplicable here, on the hill that looked over the lights of the suburbs. a decaying prairie protrusion built god-knows-when, the moon shone high in its fullness through the rotting foundations, casting its shadows over the dead grass, falling at your feet with the cool of the wind.

the whisper in her voice ran up your spine, “gettin’ scared yet?”

ellie seemed all too giddy to be here, a wicked smile and a laugh in her throat. her hair was pulled back from her face, and you could lightly see the ghost of freckles across her cheek in the night.

“what? no, no. i’m just tired.”

“right,” she was poking fun, the words dripping from her lips like electricity. she dumped her arms-full of equipment in your arms with a huff, before digging around in her backpack. “here,” cold metal in your hand as she took back her stuff. redbull, “we’re gonna be here all night.”

you don’t know how she did it. even as a certified non-believer, the engulfing emptiness of the house, the darkness that settled in the cracks and corners caught up with you, something unsettling pricking the hairs on the back of your neck.

but here she was. she brought a lawn chair from home, said it was her dad’s. equipped with the built-in beer holder and everything, she was relaxed. her elbows settled on her knees, her hands fallen limp in the space between her legs. she had something in her eyes, a glint. something determined, charming as she stared you down. well, the camera.

but you were staring at her right back. memorising what little detail echoed through the lens of the shitty 2008 sony camcorder.

she said it was for the ‘found footage look’. you know it’s just because she’s broke.

“now, legend has it, ladies and gentlemen, that the last owners of this iconic hillside property were satan .. worshippers. and that this house, this very house that i’m sitting in right now, is actually an active portal. to. hell.”

you’ve gotta give it to her. she had a talent for drama.

“i’ll just point to you when i need you to do like, i dunno, a little camera pan or something, yeah?”

ellie was explaining it to you like you hadn’t just been at home binge-watching her channel for the past few days, meticulous research, you called it. to make sure you did a good job as her assistant. not like the blur of her messy hair and her face in the ghoulish green light of the night vision camera did anything to you.

you knew her video structure. front room first, then five minutes in a spooky hallway, then some time left to freak out in one of the bedrooms, find an old haunted toy that definitely wasn’t planted, and then a quick exit with a lot of swearing, screaming and camera shaking.

“right, you ready?”

you nod.

the front room was, unsurprisingly, boring, although ellie put on her best shiver-me-timbers face, as she calls it. something for the fans.

but when you got back into the hallway, something in the air had changed. you looked to ellie, and you couldn’t tell if what she felt was real, or fake. she just kept looking at you through the camera, the same dramatised ‘concern’ written all over her face.

everything ellie does is scripted. fake.

if there was something wrong, truly wrong, here, you would leave, right?

the feeling was violently oppressive, pushing down on you. run, run, run. a gush of something ran across the back of your neck.

“fuck! what was that? did you feel that?”

“hey, hey,” the sudden normalness of her voice felt misplaced, “just keep the camera on me, okay? eyes on me.”

you could barely see her fucking eyes. the imposing and suffocating darkness of the house seemed to wrap around you horribly tight, the only thing keeping you tethered to your sense of sanity was the sound of ellie’s breath, so close you could feel it wisp around your cheekbone, warm and inviting. the only comfort fighting the cold in the air.

slowly, your sight adjusts to the dark, and you could barely make out the outline of her face in the dim light of the moon. she was watching you, her eyes lidded, flickering over the shadow of your body. your own breath was quick, adrenaline laced, something sore and deep. you feel a slight graze against your arm and you jump, ellie catching your shoulders in her arms, pushing you upright,

“careful, it’s just me,”

there’s a closeness now, a beat. her grip is strong as it soothes the shaking, the fear, the absolute buzz that you’re convinced is the only thing keeping you alive. you quickly become obsessed with the design of her, you’ve never been this close. suddenly, you recognise the way her hair falls on her face, the look in her eyes, the shine as she looks at you. she clears her throat, and her hands drop, coarsely, from your shoulders,

“come on, you’re alright. let’s keep going.”

yeah, yeah. you fumble your hand back through the strap of the camera, a slight twitch in your hand as you press record,

“fucking hell,” her voice was raspy, deep, a soft but commanding whisper, “the spirits sure are stirred up here… i wonder what happened.”

stay close to me. it’s barely a breath, something not meant to be heard, but her voice is luring, and you nod.

your footsteps were a heavy echo against the aging wood floor, the creaks spreading through the house like a warning. to you, or to others, you don’t know.

the bedroom wasn’t far. you had to hike up a flight of decaying steps, but as ellie talked to the camera, she held a hand firm on your back. she wouldn’t let you fall.

the room obviously belonged to some kids, however long ago. abandoned toys and rotted posters littered the floor, and it almost felt painful to see the life that was once in this house. but why did they leave everything here? kids drawings, toys, a closet full of half-eaten, moth-ridden clothes.

what made them just get up and leave?

wind rattled against the window, it felt like it was rocking the house. something was uneasy here, unnerving. you tried to focus your thoughts on ellie, her dramatic storytelling and perfectly practiced ‘scared’ body language, but there was something here. and it was watching.

one final gust of wind surged against the rocky foundations of the house, and the closet doors flung open, an old wooden puppet flying out to your feet.

you were never a screamer, never. which is why, when you heard a blood-curdling shriek rush through the house, it felt like an out of body experience. something foreign. you fell back and tripped over your own feet, desperate to put as much distance between you and whatever was in this house as possible.

luckily, ellie’s fear is fabricated. she’s quick to respond, stepping in to steady you with kind hands and a charming smile. your heart rate was so intense, it rocked the both of you, chest to back, intertwined something fierce. your breath settles against her chest, and you meet her eye,

“thought you didn’t get scared,” she was being a tease. her hands ghosting over your body gently, carefully, thinly veiled under the guise of simply holding you, caring for you, she was keeping you safe. it was a little self-indulgent.

“i’m not,” you steel yourself, stubborn girl, although a soft laugh bubbles in your throat. there’s something unreal about the steady feeling of ellie’s hands, the roughness of her palms pushing through your clothing. you turn, and she’s smiling, the glint of her teeth in the soft light, mischief an echo on her face. her voice was low as she leaned in, tickles of her hair just brushing the apple of your cheekbone,

“really, baby? i don’t think you would even still be here if it wasn’t for me.”

“you think i’m here for you?” she’s so close you can feel your breath swirl with hers, heat brushing down your jaw and dripping onto your neck. her grip on your waist anchors, and you feel her settle in the crooks of your body, the corners of your skin, like she’s home. she’s looking at you, something jokingly fierce, but unsure, and her gaze falls on your lips,

“mhm,”

you’d think she’d been starved. restless, choked breaths fall between you in gaps as she pulls you in, heavy, her lips on yours in fervour. her hands are everywhere, tracing themselves in your hair, down your neck, feeling their way blindly along the softness of your skin. god.

her lips draw from yours, dragging a mix of spit and lip gloss down your chin, along the ridge of your neck, a trail glistening in the edging darkness.

“fuck, ellie.”

you barely register the weight lifting from your hand, only a visceral whine as she pulls from you, walking a safe distance to gently place the camera down, out of the way.

ellie finds herself back in the crook of her neck, dragging your skin through her teeth, soft groans rumbling from her throat as her hands pull their way down to the waistband of your skirt,

a skirt? really?

had you planned this?

“come on, sweetheart,” she’s barely audible against your skin, vibrations dripping down your torso as her hands dive under your shirt, lifting it to bounce above your tits, “that’s it.”

her palm cups the base of your tit, dragging soft moans from your pretty lips as she squeezes.

under her breath, she’s praying. vulgar, tenacious, she can’t control herself, lost in the dream of your body as she presses you against a wall she hopes won’t collapse.

fuck-god, fuck, jesus, baby.

if you’re who she’s praying to, it falls on deaf ears. you’re no god, you can’t help her, but fuck, she feels like she could worship you. properly, forever, falling to her knees and cupping her palms behind your thighs, it’s like she’s pleading,

“can i?” she’s soft, her cheek resting on the inside of your thigh, you’re her altar, “god, say yes.”

her nose just graces the wetness of your underwear and you flinch, “yes! ellie, f-fuck-please.”

she loops her pointer fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your thighs, almost too rough. she loses herself in the heat, the slick dripping from your pussy.

heat poured over your body like molten gold, the feeling of her tongue inside you, raw, animalistic, sending pulses sliding up the ridges of your skin. she hums against your clit, her hand coming down to pull your velvet slick from the rim of her lips.

you convulse, clenching around the encroaching absence of a feeling, of something you didn’t know you needed.

her.

“fucking hell, sweet girl,” deep, ragged breaths shadow your thighs. she needs air, but its not like she wants it. fuck, she wants you, she needs you. your taste on her tongue is metallic, a memory she’s chasing like a quick withdrawal. her tongue finds your clit and presses, a murmur leaving her drowning lips and echoing through your veins as you moan, desperation clawing through your hands and in ellie’s hair, binding.

“please, el-f-shit, i need you. i need to feel you, fuck!”

you didn’t need to ask twice.

fuck, you wrapped around her like you were made for her, godsent, a gift for her devotion. she stretched you, opening you with her fingers and you nearly melted, ellie’s arm wrapped around your thigh the only stability offered for your spent body. your head threw back, digging into the old, rotting wood of the wall, and if ellie looked up, pulled away from her firm spot between your legs, she would have seen you and completely unravelled.

she wasn’t gentle, the way her fingers moved inside you. desperate and completely unforgiving, she needed everything that you were willing to give her, her pace rough, fast, world-destroying.

and there she was, a lazy grin bearing her teeth against your clit, pussydrunk and delirious, tasting you and content enough to die.

she supposed she wouldn’t mind haunting this house, if you came to visit her.

low warbles against your cunt, you couldn’t hear her, even if you were listening. drowning in the push and pull of her touch, in the warmth of her, your head felt like molasses, your body something soft, mouldable to her design. ellie laughed against your walls, sweet and desiring, and you collapsed.

your vision bleary, you could just feel the tips of ellie’s fingers brushing through your hair, smoothing your slick across your skin. your head fell against hers, and you could just make out something blinking in the foggy distance,

the camera,

“hey, el,”

she sighed, heat in the crook of your neck, “yeah?”

“does the red light mean it’s on?”

A few days later, the thoughts of ghosthunting weighing heavy on your mind, ellie texts you,

thought you might want a copy <3

my subscribers will love you

attachment: hauntedhouse.mov

taglist; @whore4abby

dm me to join my sad lil list <3

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou

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lalacliffthorne · 5 months

Text

christmas with the modern!batboys!roommates - as headcanons 💕

because there's way too much I wanna talk about to just put it into a meek lil drabble!!! and I actually can't wait for christmas now. 🎄

merry christmas ya filthy animals 🎀

it's about halfway through November when you decide on spending your Christmas at the flat

reason is the fact that all of your three roommates will, for once, also be staying for the holidays

usually, Rhys is forced into an awkward, stilted celebration with his father that mostly consists of very tense dinners, coffees and him trying to flee to his room for as much time as possible

Azriel always visits his mother, and Cassian usually either stays at the flat or visits the orphanage he spent half of his childhood in to help with the kids

but this year, Rhys' father isn't even in the country because of some business deal

Rhys jumps at the opportunity to avoid one awful holiday and decides to not go with him and instead spend christmas at the flat

Azriel's mother is seeing someone new who invited her to spend the holidays in the mountains

Az really doesn't want to be third-wheeling, so he, too, decides to stay home

(you're a bit surprised he's so unbothered about his mother dating someone new

he is quite protective of her

but then again, Az is quicker than even Mor at stalking someone on the internet

and out of all of you, has probably the best intuition when it comes to people

which means the new guy seems to have passed all the first hurdles)

Cassian doesn't let it show too much bc he doesn't want them to feel bad about how things usual go

but you can tell he's beyond happy to have them there

Mor's also staying in town and will be over for Christmas Eve

you usually always go home for the holidays

but sometimes, it´s time for new traditions, right?

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?"

Your voice rises over the sound of the movie, and with a curious look, Rhys turns it on mute before looking your way, Cassian, lounging in one of the armchairs, doing the same when you worm yourself out of Azriel's arms where you have been curled up for the past half an hour, barely paying any attention to the TV.

You can feel Azriel's eyes on the side of your face when you grin sheepishly.

"I - I think I'm gonna stay here as well for Christmas."

Cass crunches his brows in surprise. "What about your family, don't you go home usually?"

"Yeah." Rhys grins. "Won't you be missed?"

You huff at him.

"They might come here for a few days during the holidays, but -" You shrug and grin at them. "I don't know, I feel like I want to stay here this year." You frown in thought. "Would be weird to just leave you all here."

Cassian starts grinning toothily, and just that would have convinced you that this is definitely the right decision. But then you turn your head and find Azriel staring at you, the golden spots in his eyes seeming to twinkle in the warm light, and your heart does a flip.

Yep. Definitely worth it.

and with that and the knowledge that all of you will be spending Christmas at the flat together - you decide on going all in.

everything starts with the flat.

it's your home, your place to be after all

and it deserves to be spruced up and decked to completion

which is why it becomes first thing on your big Christmas list

because the boys usually don't spend the holidays at the flat, there aren't really any decorations in storage down in the basement

so the next Saturday, you and Rhys hit the high street and every place in town needed for the perfectly decorated flat

you get fir garlands and fairylights, together with an unholy amount of candles

in a concept store next to the café where you take a much needed break around lunchtime, you find funky glass baubles

(you make sure you take the black camera and one of the motorcycles)

in another store, you find big stars made out of thick paper for the windows, even light up ones, along with stockings and some candleholders for the big dining table in the living room

(because of course there will be a ridiculous amount of food, if the way Rhys has been buried in cookbooks for the past few days is any indication)

you even get a new set of dishware

on the market, you score some big wreaths

Rhys buys mistletoe; so much, you're wondering whether he wants to plaster the whole house

you get ribbons and wrapping paper, festive cookie cutters, trinkets and more candles -

then, the next morning, Rhys turns up the Christmas music, and you get to decorating

because Cassian is tallest, he is tasked with anything that involves hanging things up the second he steps through the front door

fastening garlands and fairylights to the doorways, putting up the light up stars you got for the windows and the one for your room that fits its colorscheme

and hanging up the mistletoe

you place garlands over the mantle of the fireplace, together with fairy lights and candles

the window sills get the same treatment, while outside, Rhys fights with a long string of tangled lights to wrap around the balustrade of the balcony and the bushes

for safety reasons, the stockings are hanging underneath one of the windows and not above the fireplace

(you don't want any accidents involving burning stockings)

you found some pillow cases and a cozy blanket for the couches that fit the theme, and the coffee table is decorated with more candles and a wreath with bows you tied meticulously

you even set up the big dining table in the living room, with more garlands and candles and some of the baubles, and the new dishware

(you rarely use that table because you always eat in the kitchen anyway, so it can stay like that until the holidays)

the bookcases get covered in fairylights and little trinkets, the mirror gets a stole of fir

you're hanging up the biggest of the wreaths with a big red bow at the front door of the flat when Azriel comes home

the corner of his mouth kicks up when he sees you, some glitter on your face, a black bow in your hair and beaming at him

and his eyes actually twinkle a little when he sees the decorated flat

Cassian is positively buzzing with happiness when he hangs up the final wreath in the kitchen window

Rhys has hung some fir branches over the table, with some baubles and ornaments dangling from them and candles sitting on the wooden tabletop

every room smells like pine and firewood and it makes your heart skip with happiness

Rhys smirks and drops his arm onto your shoulder

"not bad, darling. not bad at all."

and with that, the festive time between decorating and the actual holidays begin

and you plan to enjoy every second

one of the first days of December, all of you embark on the most important mission of all:

finding the perfect tree

there's a pop up outdoor place selling trees a little walk away from the flat

Rhys, extravagant as usual, wants to take the huge fir tree right at the entrance

you manage to convince him that even though your apartment does have very nice high ceilings, a tree the width of both Cassian and Azriel combined would be just a little over the top

Cassian votes for a slightly crooked specimen that's about two feet taller than him

("it's got character.")

in the end, Azriel is the one who finds the perfect one

"What about that one?"

Turning at the sound of Azriel's deep, calm voice, you slip past a bickering Rhys and Cassian, and Az looks down at you when you shiver happily and slide your cold hand into his pocket, curling yourself into his side.

It's gotten really freaking cold.

Squinting, you look up at the tree you're standing in front of. It's probably a foot taller than Cass, it's branches thick and close together and it's top just the tiniest bit crooked.

"Huh." You feel a smile slowly spreading over your face, turning your head without looking away from the tree. "Hey, dumb and dumber."

Azriel snorts softly.

"Who's who?" Cassian appears next to you, crunching his nose to suppress a sneeze as he offers you his elbow to hide your freezing hand in.

"If you gotta ask,", Rhys mumbles from Azriel's other side before dodging Cassian trying to kick his shin, his nearly violet eyes twinkling when he smirks.

Not you, you mouth up at Cass and earn yourself a wide grin and a wink.

"What about that one?" Azriel threads his fingers through yours in his pocket, nodding towards the tree in front of you.

Both Cassian and Rhys cock their heads to the side in unison.

"Hm." Rhys doesn't sound opposed like with every other tree that has crossed your way so far.

"It's big, but not too big, it's got character -" You shrug and look back and forth between them. "I think it's perfect."

"Let's check." Cassian lets go of you, and you're about to look up at him with a confused frown when strong arms wrap around your waist and lift you off your feet.

You squeak and sway and feel a deep chuckle against your back. You look up to find yourself face to face with the tree top, then you get slid back to your feet.

"Yup." Cassian straightens and pats your head. "Perfect height."

You scowl up at him.

"I mean, it's not as perfect as the first one -" Rhys gets cut off by three groans and snickers.

"But it's pretty close, so -"

"Thank God,", Azriel mumbles into your hair, and you giggle.

you go home with the tree and a white amaryllis that'll hopefully be in bloom by Christmas and that you want to use as centerpiece for the dining table

Cassian carries the tree like it's not a foot taller than him and probably just as heavy

that weekend, you put it up

Rhys and you bicker about the best way to detangle the ball of fairylights

by the time you're finished and turn towards the tree, Azriel holds up one end of the neatly laid out fairylights with a deadpan look

it takes some more bickering about the perfect way of wrapping the lights around the tree until the huge fir tree is twinkling from every angle

and then little by little, you distribute all the the baubles and ornaments evenly

Cassian is responsible for the top branches and you, begrudgingly, for all the ones at the bottom

the whole slightly chaotic endeavour is accompanied by the sound of Christmas music, hot chocolate and the crackling fireplace

when you're almost finished, Cassian lifts you up, completely ignoring your soft squeak, and Rhys hands you the tree topper

the golden star goes right on the top, and then you're done

that evening, you all just sit and stare at the tree

it's magnificent and slightly chaotic

really mirrors living in the flat, you think

and with the tree up, all the festive activities can truly begin

you bake gingerbread cookies, happy to huddle up in the warm kitchen as it progressively gets colder outside

you go gift shopping with Feyre and Mor, who get along like a house on fire

when Feyre drops you off at home after and helps you carry your bags upstairs, Rhys opens the door

you're pretty sure the blush in Feyre's cheeks does not stem from the cold

even as she huffs at Rhys' blatant flirting

you get dragged out for another round of gift shopping with Cassian a few days after

it ends with the two of you buying a dutch oven for Rhys and almost forgetting it on the Christmas market when you stop for mulled wine and food on the way home

since Feyre is going home for the holidays, you have a little celebration the second weekend of December

you kick the boys out of the flat for the evening

the two of you make a whole small roast, dancing around the kitchen to Christmas music and have dinner in the living room

the tree is lit, and the first presents have found their way under it, all wrapped up more or less craftfully

you watch classic christmas movies and eat on the couch

when the boys get back later that night, the both of you are so full and happy, Feyre actually beams at Rhys in passing

you think he might faint

after saying goodbye to Feyre at the door, you turn, and he still stands in the hall, looking a little dazed

when he glares at you like a silent "not a word", you grin and tackle him in a hug

he's adorable

the day after (probably in an act of revenge on Rhys' side), the both of you engage in a gingerbread house building competition in your kitchen

there's Christmas music, hot chocolate and containers and bowls with icing and dozens and dozens of different decorations spread all over the counter while you set up camp at the kitchen table

when Cass and Azriel come back from the gym and their own Christmas shopping in the late afternoon, the kitchen is absolute chaos

and Rhys and you have switched from hot chocolate to mulled wine and are slightly tipsy

both Cass and Azriel lean into the doorframe, staring at Rhys and you as you giggle and bicker, trying to kick at each other under the table

you're a little dishevelled, wearing a pair of wide pyjama pants, fuzzy socks and a loose t-shirt, your hair a mess and specks of icing all over your nose

Rhys looks equally unkempt for once, slightly flushed and violet eyes twinkling as he grins, icing on his dark t-shirt

when evening rolls around, you're completely exhausted

but both of your houses are standing

they are a bit wonky

but very pretty

complete with white icing, windows made from melted candy, roof tiles and cotton candy for smoke rising from the chimneys

Mor, who drops by that evening, acts as impartial judge and rules a tie

neither you nor Rhys really are too bothered by it

you're mostly proud they've not collapsed into heaps yet

Rhys smushes your face between his sticky hands and leaves a smacking kiss on your forehead that ends the competition before calling dibs on the first shower

and Azriel decides, when you crawl onto the couch where he's already sprawled out on the cushions and bury yourself in his chest, your body aching and feeling sticky

that even though he doesn't really care for sweets

you smelling like gingerbread and icing could make him come around to it

he doesn't say it, but when he wraps his arms around you and drags you up his body, curling around you to bury his face in your t-shirt and humming, you decide that this is definitely becoming a tradition

(even tho the next few days, Rhys and you get nauseous at just the sight of anything sweet)

the closer you get to Christmas, the more giddy you get

Azriel takes every chance he gets to crowd you under one of the many twigs of mistletoe Rhys has snuck into every possible spot in the flat and kiss you until your heart nearly gives out and your knees are jello and you can feel his lips curve against yours

to be fair, the other two don't really hold back either

Cassian has the time of his life leaving smacking kisses on the cheeks and foreheads of whoever ends up under a sprig of mistletoe next to him

it's cause to different stages of crunched noses and huffs

from amused (Rhys) to fits of giggling (you and Mor) to grumbling (Azriel)

and Rhys likes to dramatically pretend he's about to smooch the shit out of you, sweeping you up and dipping you back and everything, causing you to break into fits of snickers and Azriel to roll his eyes

you're pretty sure to see his lips twitch tho

you go to the Christmas market a few more times

with Rhys, because he wants to sample every food that's sold there and you would never pass up a chance to eat and gossip

then with all the boys and Mor, on an icy cold evening, to look at the decorations all over the shops and drink mulled cider

it's so cold you're permantely glued to Azriel's side, your fingers laced with his in his pocket, your arm wrapped around his elbow

he lets you slide into his coat as far as possible when you're waiting for the hot beverages, his chin resting on your head when you bury your face in his chest, his lips pressing against your forehead when you peak up at him, nose pink from the cold

the way he's staring down at you makes your heart hop and swerve, and Azriel's lips twitch

then, a few days before Christmas, Mor turns up and takes you ice skating

it ends in giggles, the two of you holding onto each other and singing aloud to the Christmas music from the speakers

you get waffles and hot chocolate after and Mor drags you with her into several clothing stores because she still doesn't have an outfit for the celebrations

it's when you decide she's gonna sleep over on Christmas Eve

because the thought of her going home in the evening and then coming back on Christmas Morning is just ridiculous

and when you promise she can sleep in your bed, all by herself, Mor beams

"okay!"

(you'd be sleeping in Azriel's room anyway)

the boys don't mind

quite the opposite

Rhys actually huffs bc he didn't think of it earlier

you have Christmas movie nights, with snacks and gingerbread and hot chocolate, the tree glittering and the smell of pine making your heart skip happily

gingerbread decorating competitions

and evenings where the fire is crackling and you are curled up against Azriel on the couch, reading with his arm wrapped around your shoulder and lips absentmindedly pressing against your temple

and then the afternoon before Christmas Eve, you take advantage of having the flat all to yourself and lock yourself in your room to wrap all your presents

in the end, you're sitting on the floor, surrounded by paperscraps and bows, with sticky tape on your forehead and a small heap of presents in front of you

wrapped to the best of your abilities and carefully labelled

they go onto the growing pile of presents under the tree, and you award yourself with a bubble bath

(wrapping gifts is hard, okay?)

you got the Dutch Oven you bought for Rhys with Cassian, along with a pair of purple fuzzy socks (mostly so he stops stealing yours) and fancy pickles

the guy has weird interests

Cassian's boxing gloves have seen better days, so you and Mor got him a new pair, with his name embroidered in deep red stitching at the wrist

you also bought him a set of hair care, after he once accidentally used yours and was in awe about how soft it made his hair for a solid three days

for Mor, you found a small shop on etsy that makes custom jewellery with recycled materials

you got her a necklace with a little charm with a little deep red stone and a matching bracelet, both dainty and slim

as well as a kit for a fancy bubble bath

as for Feyre, she already got her present a few days before and now lugs it home with her

you and Mor bought her a set of fancy oil paints

you also got her two mugs

one says coffee

the other paint water

you hope it means she stops accidentally poisoning herself

as for Azriel

his gift makes your heart hop with nerves

on Christmas Eve, Mor comes over, and Rhys whips up a three course dinner

you eat in the kitchen, Mor and you occupying the couch and giggling into your wine glasses

then you move to the living room and watch Home Alone

at 11, you all suddenly feel the need to move

so you bundle up with coats and scarves and hats before piling out of the flat

outside, it's so cold, your breath rises in thick white clouds

you take a long walk around the neighbourhood, looking at the lights and decorations everywhere

some people have wrapped their outside trees and bushes in fairylights

some have hung stars that light up porches, balconies and windows

you're actually not the only ones on a walk

there are still quite a few people out, probably with the same idea as you

you walk next to Mor, your arms linked together and awing softly at the glimpses you catch at decorated living rooms and twinkling trees

Rhys and Azriel are behind you, talking quietly between themselves

and Cassian is walking a little bit ahead of you, sniffling against the cold air, ridiculously broad in his thick jacket, a hat pulled over his head and seemingly lost in thought

after a while, you let Mor fall back to the other two and catch up with him

shivering happily, you wrap your arm around his and bump your shoulder softly into his side

"you okay?"

your voice is soft, and when you look up at him, your heart does a little warm pulse

because Cassian, big, vibrant, boisterous Cassian is completely quiet and calm

he looks at the houses with the lights and the twinkling trees in the living rooms, and one corner of his lips tips up gently

"yeah."

as you're staring up at him, something's suddenly swelling in your chest, making it hard to breathe

bc for one second, the only thing you see is a very little Cassian, alone in an orphanage on Christmas

you really try not to allow the sudden pressure behind your eyes to surface

but then Cassian looks down at you and gently bumps his elbow into your side, grinning softly

"got my family."

and that pressure spills over and with it the tears as your chin wobbles and your chest aches

"duh", you press out, voice weak and trembling, and Cassian smiles, bigger and crooked

you realise what that look on his face is when he tucks you into his side and lets you bury your face in his jacket until the tears have died

complete peace.

"Hey."

The quiet, deep voice travels through you, and you shift, grumbling quietly.

There's a soft breathed smile, then warm, rough fingers brush over your cheek, and lips press against your forehead. You can feel them move when the familiar deep voice, soft and rough with sleep, vibrates through you and causes shivers to run over your spine.

"C'mon baby, wake up."

Your heart does a little skip, and the warm haze of sleep slowly slips away. You exhale slowly, then you force open your heavy eyes, and something in your chest rises in a soft flutter.

Azriel's face is only an inch away, all sharp cheekbones and soft lips and tired eyes, and something in your chest dips over at the sight of his warm amber iris dragging over your face.

"Hi,", you mumble, voice thick and raspy with sleep, and the corner of Azriel's lips tips upwards, causing your heart to rise.

With a quiet sound, you shift closer, your arms sliding over his bare shoulders as his dip and wrap around your waist, pulling you into his body until one of your legs drapes over his hip and you're completely pressed together. There's something shifting at the back of your head, keeping you from just burying your face in the warm crook of his neck and going back to sleep -

Your heart misses a beat, your eyes dart up as suddenly, a flutter builds in your chest, and Azriel's lips curve, up and up until his cheek creases.

"There it is." His voice, deep and low, husky with sleep and vibrating with a hint of amusement, sends your heart tumbling as his gaze drags over your face. Then he blinks, and something softens in his eyes, a slow twinkle growing in his iris as his gaze drags over your face. One corner of his lips curves upwards.

"Merry Christmas,", he mumbles, low, deep, and steady.

If your heart hasn't stopped before, it definitely does now, and you need a couple of seconds until it works again. Then a smile spreads over your face, slow but growing until it is ridiculously wide.

"Merry Christmas,", you whisper back, breath hitching and voice thick with sleep and something pulsing and swelling under your ribs.

The twinkle in Azriel's eyes grows; your breath hitches when he dips his head, and something tipping over in your chest when he presses his lips onto yours, warm and slow and unhurried.

He only pulls back once he coaxes a soft sound breaking from your throat. Your heart is thrumming and one corner of his lips has curved lazily as he stares at you, a few strands of hair curving over his forehead, the rest so tousled, you just can't resist burying your fingers in it as warmth spreads through your body and your hearts start fluttering as giddiness starts spreading through your chest.

Slipping your arm tighter around Azriel's neck, you pull him down to kiss him again, deeper and firmer and causing your breath to shudder and Azriel to groan softly. His hand slips under your hoodie, palm slowly roaming up your back with the softest pressure, pushing your closer.

When you pull back, breathing shakily, warmth rushing through you and gather in your cheeks, Azriel nudges his nose against yours, a soft rumble building in his chest.

"Sleeping in on Christmas morning, so rebellious,", he mumbles, and you lightly kick his shin, causing a tired smirk to spread over his face that makes your heart topple and still.

Oh.

Azriel is about to pull you back in and roll you over when suddenly, the door bursts open.

You jump, Azriel huffs and rolls his eyes, and when you crane your neck to look over your shoulder, Cassian is standing in the doorway, only wearing a pair of checkered pyjama pants, hair pulled back haphazardly and grinning wildly.

"Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals. Get your asses out here." He winks. "It's present time."

knowing that he is not going to let up, you grumble and dig yourself out of your blankets

your heart starts hopping as you pull on some pyjama pants and fuzzy socks

Cassian hugs you so tightly, you can't help but fall into a fit of giggles when he lifts you off your feet with a dramatic groan

squeezing you for a solid few seconds in which you squeeze him back with all your might, he lets you slide back to the floor and presses a kiss onto your cheek before letting you pass

Rhys and Mor are already in the living room

the giddy feeling in your chest grows when you sink into Rhys who's sitting on the back of the couch, squeezing his middle tightly and feeling him hug you to his chest, pressing a kiss onto your hair before he straightens and pats your bum

you press a sloppy kiss onto his cheek in revenge that makes his nose crinkle and a snort break from your throat

then you drop down next to Mor on the carpet

you feel like your heart is expanding to impossible sizes when she wraps you up in a ribcrushing hug and leaves kisses all over your face until you giggle

Cass and Azriel come into the living room, and Rhys hugs Azriel so tightly he huffs, but you can see the muscles in his arms straining when he hugs him back

Mor beams up at Az when sinks onto the floor behind you, squeezing her shoulder before he wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your neck

and you feel like you might burst

you open your presents, with the tree glittering and the fire crackling

Rhys fangirls over his pot and the pickles

Mor gets teary eyed over the jewellery and leaves more smacking kisses all over your face

and Cassian actually looks like he might be speechless when he unpacks the boxing gloves

he wraps you and Mor up in a hug so tight, you're completely smushed together

you even get a selfie from Feyre with her mugs and a deadpan look that makes you giggle for a solid minute

it's Azriel you're really watching though, as he unwraps the last gift with his name on it

you see him still for a second before he pulls out a very old camera

you feel something twitch nervously in your chest

"I - found it at an antique store. I remember you showed me a similiar one and that you said how difficult it is to find one like it today." you grin lopsidedly. "I got it repaired, it's working again."

Azriel blinks

then he raises his head, and you're pretty sure your heart just stops

because the way he is staring at you is flaring and deep and heated and burning with something that causes your breath to stop

his throat works, and he carefully slides the camera back into its case and places it on the floor

then he reaches out and drags you over the floor until you're trapped between his legs

your heart gets stuck in your throat when his arm slides around your waist

your breath falters when his hand comes up to cradle your face

and the world stills when he pulls you forward and kisses you like it's the first and last time and there's no one else in the room but you

and he doesn't need to say it

you can feel it all in the way his breath shudders when he exhales and somehow pulls you even closer, until you're flush against his chest and your arms wind around his shoulders and he kisses you harder

only Rhys clearing his throat makes you remember you're in fact not alone

something dips over in your chest, and you can feel heat wash over you when you somehow manage to break the kiss, breathing harshly as your fingers dig into Azriel's hair

you pull back a little and look at him, just to really be sure, and your heart tightens at the way he's looking at you

kinda like you're beginning and ending and everything in between

something swells in your chest, begins rising, and you can't help it

you beam at him, your heart thrumming against your ribs, and Azriel drinks it in like he's dying of thirst

you somehow manage to turn in Azriel's arms, curling into him as you stare at your friends that bicker and laugh, and your heart swells when Azriel buries his nose in your hair and holds you like he's not planning on ever letting go

after unwrapping, you have a big, fancy breakfast in the kitchen, with waffles and pancakes and eggs and bacon

you sit curled up in one corner of the couch, with Azriel behind you, chest in your back and arm wrapped around your waist

you spend the day all together

watching Christmas movies, playing boardgames

Rhys drives you all into bankruptcy at Monopoly, twice, and you beat Cassian at trivia (again)

when it gets dark in the afternoon, Rhys disappears into the kitchen, and Mor drags the rest of you to a classical Christmas concert in a church nearby

you all sit together, Azriel and Cassian flanking you and Mor, Azriel's fingers linked with yours

when you inevitably get teary eyed towards the ending, Mor squeezes your other hand and sniffles

when you get back to the flat, you're met with scents more delicious than anything you have ever smelled before

your stomach grumbles, Cassian groans, and Rhys appears in the doorway to the kitchen and grins

"to the table, please"

to say he went all in would be too little

he supplies you with a whole seven course dinner

soups, salads, a whole freaking goose, and two kinds of dessert that make your mouth water even though you already feel like you won't be eating anything until next Christmas

the whole living room is lit

the tree is twinkling, the candles are flickering and the fireplace crackling

Cassian's rambunctious laughter mixes with Mor's ringing giggles and Rhys' deep laughs, and Azriel sits next to you and grins, his arm draped over the back of your chair that he has pulled so close you can feel the side of his body pressing against yours

and you think that maybe, making new traditions was the best idea you ever had

it's really only topped by your decision to move into this flat.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds @harrystylesfan2686 @icey--stars @ssmay123 @ailyr92

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sanguineterrain · 1 year

Text

no other will do - e.m.

Summary: You're home from college for the holidays. Eddie's playing a show and he wants you to be there. How can you say no to the boy you've been in love with since freshman year?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings/tags: mean girl who is jealous of reader, friends to lovers, absolutely lovesick eddie. this man is so in love with you!!!

Eddie's waiting in front of the gate when you come out.

You'd honestly believed you'd convinced him not to come. Five times on the phone you had told him he didn't need to. It's a long drive from Hawkins to O'Hare International Airport. You're on break, Eddie's probably busy; there's no way you'd expect him to spend a day chauffeuring you to town.

But there's his van.

Eddie is not dressed properly, despite it being November, clad in a leather jacket and jeans. His hair is tied back in a ponytail. You're struck with the urge to run over and kiss him.

No! No. Bad Y/N. You'd gone to college four states away for a reason. Yes, it had the program you wanted and branching out of Hawkins was necessary. But more importantly, it gave you ample space to get over your longtime crush on your best friend.

Mission failed, obviously.

"Eddie," you call weakly, waving.

He looks up and his face splits into a grin. Eddie meets you halfway to the van, taking your suitcase.

"I distinctly remember telling you not to pick me up from O'Hare," you say, following him to the car.

"How long have we been friends?" Eddie asks. "You should know by now that anything you tell me not to do, I'll do it."

"So if I had asked you to pick me up, you wouldn't have?"

Eddie pretends to think about it.

"Hmm. Nope. I'd still be here. Gotta make sure Hawkins' princess arrives safely."

He loads your suitcase and closes the door. Then he turns to you, beaming. Your heart does a flip-flop.

"Missed ya, sweets," he says softly.

"I missed you too, Eds."

He pulls you into a hug and you melt. Eddie’s warm and smells like that familiar spicy cologne you’ve been homesick for for the last three months. All the promises you'd made yourself about not getting soft and dumb for Eddie Munson fly out the window. You're hopeless. And he doesn't even know it.

He releases you and opens the passenger-side door for you, then gets in on the other side.

"This is pretty," Eddie says, turning the ignition.

He tugs on the hem of your green knitted sweater.

"Oh." You swallow. "Thanks. It's new, I got it at a shop near school. They have a guitar store, you know?"

"Yeah? Did you go inside and wow them with your knowledge about heavy metal?"

"No," you giggle. "I'd never look at guitars without you. 'S sacrilegious."

“Sacrilegious, huh? Am I some kinda guitar god?” Eddie grins.

“I’m not gonna answer that and blow up your already giant ego.”

“Ego! That’s it. Outta the van, princess.”

“No chance,” you say, clicking your seatbelt. “Royalty deserves proper treatment.”

“You called my bluff,” he sighs. “I have a hard rule about never kicking pretty girls out of my van.”

You turn to look out the window so Eddie won’t see your reaction to that. He starts the car and pulls out of the pickup zone.

“Hey, so,” he says. “Speaking of guitar gods, we, uh… got a gig.”

You snap your head back.

“You did? Where?”

“It’s called Excalibur, ‘bout twenty minutes from Hawkins. Kinda feels like a sign,” he chuckles.

“A paying gig? Eddie, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you,” you gush.

Eddie’s suddenly shy, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Really?”

“Of course I am. I always believed in you. If anybody can be a rockstar, it’s you.”

Eddie glances at you, then back at the road. He seeks out your wrist and squeezes. He might as well be squeezing your heart.

“Thanks, princess,” he says fondly. “Well, so, what I wanted to ask is: will you come? I’d get you in for free, obviously.”

“Eddie, it’s a business—”

“That can afford me bringing a plus one,” he finishes with a wink. “Non-negotiable.”

“You want me to come? I’m not exactly heavy metal.”

“Of course I want you to come, sweet thing. You’re my best friend and you’ve supported me from the start. I know it ain’t your scene, but you don’t have to stay the whole time! We’ll probably go eat afterwards and you can meet the others.”

“Others?” you ask.

“Yeah, well, since we got booked, we’ve been scoping out the place. We met this other band, Birds of Prey. The lead singer, Missy, she’s cool. Real Janis Joplin vibes, y’know?”

“Oh.” Missy. Of course Eddie had met a girl. You couldn't expect him to just not. Eddie’s a sweet guy. Funny. Handsome. Love of your life. Et cetera.

“So you’ve met a lot of… girls?”

Eddie glances at you and shrugs.

“Some.”

“Like on dates?”

Shutupshutup. Eddie’s too clever for you to be asking direct questions like that. You might as well hang a neon sign around your neck that says jealous!

He laughs.

“I’m really not the kinda guy people go on dates with, angel.”

Which is not true. At all. If you can figure out Eddie’s a winner, any girl with a half a brain can do the same. But you don’t tell him that, because you’re selfish and pathetic.

“I want to go,” you say instead.

Eddie lights up. “Great! Oh, awesome. It’ll be a bitchin' show, promise.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Eddie seeks out your hand, rubbing your knuckles. You smile despite the acute feeling you’re sealing your doom.

Friday comes fast. You spend most of your time before Eddie's show agonizing over why you love tormenting yourself. Then he rings you up and asks if you'll come over for a pre-show soiree. And because you're a sucker for Eddie Munson, you say yes.

You've been to the trailer before. It's not strange at all for you to be here. Wayne knows you well. But for some reason, this feels different. When you saw Eddie everyday, you could pretend. His constant proximity was normal then. Now, after three months apart, you're a lovesick calf. It's just like when you'd first realized your crush on Eddie back in freshman year. You'd been an absolute mess and it'd nearly cost your friendship.

You've sworn not to make that mistake again.

Eddie’s room currently looks like a tornado ran through it. Clothes are strewn everywhere. You dodge a flying bandana from your place on the bed as he continues to rifle through his closet.

"Eds," you sigh. "Does it really matter what you wear?"

"Of course! It's a statement."

"But the whole point of metal is to not care," you say. “Come back so I can do your other hand.”

Eddie obeys. He kneels one leg on the bed and sticks his unpainted hand out. He’s got a bit of black kohl around his eyes and brand new spiked boots. You make sure not to look at his face for too long so you don’t do something really stupid.

You laser in on Eddie's fingernails, carefully painting them with black nail polish. He holds his breath every time you get close, still as a statue.

"Actually, the point of metal is to protest societal structures you don't agree with, like the government,” he says. “Metalheads definitely care if you're not dressed for a concert."

“But I thought everything in your wardrobe is metal.”

“Yeah, but—” Eddie gestures to his Metallica tank top. “This isn’t concert metal. I have a reputation, y’know.”

“Well, I’m not dressed for a Corroded Coffin concert either,” you reason. “I don’t own anything metal.”

You’d tried, for the record. You'd found a charcoal gray sweater and black tights. That’s about as close to metal as you can manage.

“That’s okay, princess. You’re so pretty, you don’t need to wear proper attire. I, on the other hand, need to look like I eat souls for breakfast.”

You cap the polish. Eddie thinks you're pretty.

“Okay, done. Don’t smear it.”

Eddie wiggles his fingers with a grin.

“You’re a doll. What if I pair this with my jacket? Or wait! What about my torn black jeans?"

Eddie gets up, hands poised delicately. He stops at his closet and pouts.

"I'll ruin your hard work," he frowns. "D'you mind helping me look mean and scary?"

You get up with a smile.

"Impossible. You could never be mean and scary."

"Way to crush a guy's dreams, princess."

You shrug. "Somebody has to tell you."

You gently push through Eddie’s “clean pile.” You pick up a leather jacket and a torn sleeveless top that says Devil’s Advocate.

“What about this one? You look nice in this one,” you say, holding it up to him.

“Nice? I can’t look nice! I’m not going to prom, Y/N.”

You sigh.

“Fine. You look mean and scary. Straight from the Underworld. Satan himself. Better?”

Eddie shivers exaggeratedly, grinning.

“Getting me hot under the collar with that talk, princess.”

“Shut it,” you huff, throwing the jacket at him to hide your fluster.

Eddie squawks, dodging the jacket. He wiggles his fingers.

“They’re drying!”

“I’m pretty sure they’re dry now, Eds.”

“We really can’t be so sure, can we?”

You get up with a sigh.

“I am not taking your shirt off, Eddie.”

“Well, ouch, princess.”

He shrugs and in a second, pulls his shirt off. You immediately turn, looking up at the ceiling.

“Jeez,” Eddie says behind you. “‘M not gonna blind you. They show male chests on MTV, y’know.”

“I’m giving you privacy,” you say, face hot. “Now hurry up. You don’t wanna be late.”

You peek, just for a second, and catch a glimpse of pale, freckled skin and a line of hair that disappears under his jeans. Nope, nope. You are not going down that rabbit hole of thought.

“Can you at least help with the jacket?” he asks.

“I suppose.”

You take the jacket and bring it behind him. Eddie sticks his arms through, never breaking eye contact.

“Good?” you check.

“Perfect, sweet thing.”

You frown at the jeans he’s chosen.

“Eddie, those have holes.”

“Yes, dear, I know. I made ‘em.”

“It’s November! You can’t wear clothing with holes.”

Eddie beams, eyes scrunching. You cross your arms.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he says. “‘S just nice you care so much ‘bout me not getting sick. You really are a sweet thing.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be sick over my visit.”

“Purely selfish reasons, huh? Tsk tsk.” Eddie shakes his head.

“No! I just—wanna spend time together,” you say. “And we can’t do that if you’re sick.”

“Alright, alright. What if I wear my lightly torn jeans? ‘S that fair?”

Eddie steps away from you, beginning to undo his belt. You panic.

“Uh, yeah, yep! Fine! I’ll go start the car.”

You scurry down the hall and grab Eddie’s keys. You get into the van. By the time Eddie comes out, the car’s already warmed up. He wears jeans that have significantly less rips. Eddie puts his guitar in the back, then gets into the driver's seat. He smiles at you.

“Aw, look at you, keepin’ my seat warm.”

“Because you have the blood circulation of a vampire,” you reply with an eye roll.

“Vampire and the princess. Now there’s an underrated literary trope.”

Eddie looks at you a moment more. Then he seems to make a decision, sliding off the cross on his middle finger and putting it on your left ring finger. Your eyes widen.

“Eddie—”

“For luck,” he says.

“But… I’m not playing.”

“I know.” He shrugs. “But if I know you’re wearing my ring, well, I gotta make you proud. Don’t wanna be an embarrassment while you’ve got my ring on.”

“Oh, Eds. I am proud. You’re doing it.”

Eddie gives you the softest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Thanks, sweet thing.”

“You’re welcome. Now you really have to drive, Eddie. You’ve got a half an hour till your show starts.”

He checks his watch.

“Shit! Alright, hold onto something. We’re cutting this twenty minute trip down to ten.”

Eddie ends up making some questionable driving advances. Halfway through, you question if you should’ve gotten into the car with him. But you get there on time.

Eddie ushers you out.

“Eddie, just go, it’s okay. I can find my way inside.”

“Oh, absolutely not, princess. This crowd is rougher than The Hideout’s. Plus, I gotta get you in somehow. C’mon, pretty girl.”

Eddie keeps his guitar in one hand and you in the other. You’re practically glued to his side as he corrals you both to the back entrance.

“Hey, Sal.” Eddie waves at the bouncer parked at the door. “Everybody’s inside?”

“Sure is. You’re on in ten. Better hurry.”

“Thanks. This is Y/N. She’s with me.” Eddie nods to you.

“No guests, Munson,” Sal frowns.

“Watch it, Sal,” Eddie pushes back. “She’s not a guest. She’s my girl. Came all the way from college to see me. Y’mind? We’re on a tight schedule.”

Sal looks at you. You hope he doesn’t ask questions; you have all the speaking ability of a fish right now.

“Hmm. Fine. No tricks.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie grins, tugging you through the entrance.

“You lied to him,” you whisper when you’re far enough away. “Eddie—”

“Sweet thing, what was I supposed to say? Had to get you in. And I didn’t lie, okay? You did come from college and you are my girl. Only girl I’ve got, right?”

“But… you made it sound like we’re—”

“Dude!” Gareth hisses. “Where the fuck have you been?”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Chill, Gare-Bear. We’ve got time. Where’s Jeff?”

“Bathroom. Hi, Y/N.”

You wave shyly.

“Hey, Gareth. Cool chain.”

Gareth gives Eddie a look. You don’t know what it means, but whatever it does makes Eddie’s cheeks redden. He turns to you and squeezes your waist.

“I gotta go. Stay in the front so I can see you, ‘kay?”

“Why? Afraid I’ll run?”

“Nah,” he grins. “Just rather look at your pretty face instead of these ugly mugs.”

“Hey!” Gareth huffs.

“Eddie…” you tut. “Be nice.”

“Not nice. Mean and scary.”

He makes Devil horns with his fingers and sticks out his tongue. You giggle.

“See you after,” you say. “Good luck!”

And with that, you brave the crowd. Immediately, you feel out of place.

You’ve been to Eddie’s shows before at The Hideout. But this crowd is bigger and definitely a more intense scene than Hawkins. Most of the crowd is already drunk, or at least buzzed. They’re loud with excitement and unaware of their surroundings. You focus on not getting pummeled and on finding a seat up front like Eddie’d told you.

A group of girls push past you. The ringleader knocks into your shoulder and gives you a dirty look. She has long, dyed purple hair and black makeup. Her features are striking and perfect for the atmosphere. You wish you could fit in like she does, at least for Eddie’s performance. You’re starting to feel like you might be the embarrassment tonight.

“Watch it,” she snaps.

“Sorry,” you mumble, and grab a seat.

Thankfully, nobody else bothers you. It’s only another minute before the lights dim. The first band is clearly very popular, judging by the howling cheers they get. Their frontman is covered head to toe in tattoos. You make a note of a green dragon inked on his neck. Eddie will like that one a lot.

You do your best to match the energy in the room, despite not knowing many songs. Eddie’s played a few bands for you, but since metal isn’t really your thing, you’re lost when it comes to the less well-known bands.

After the opening act finishes, you see a curly head of hair poke out of the curtains. Eddie searches for you. You wave and he finds you then, giving you a big smile.

“Having fun?” he yells.

“Tons!” you shout back.

He gives you a thumbs-up and disappears backstage. The curtains part.

“And now, Birds of Prey!”

The group of girls who’d bumped into you step onstage. You clap lightly and stay seated. Their lead singer, the purple-haired woman, gets to the microphone. Missy.

“You guys ready to hear some real music?” she laughs.

The crowd screams.

“Good!”

They launch into Enter Sandman. Missy has a perfect voice for it, raw and raspy. You prefer Eddie’s voice, sweet and low. He always complains it’s not metal enough. You’re sympathetic but you secretly love that Eddie can croon, if he really wants to. Sometimes he does, when he’s had a beer or two and is sleepy with affection. Then he’ll sing along to Wayne’s Buddy Holly records. Your very own Eddie Munson exclusive.

Bird of Prey finish after a couple songs. You politely clap with the crowd.

“And now, something fresh!” the emcee announces. “Corroded Coffin!”

You jump from your seat, clapping excitedly. The band comes out. Eddie dances around the stage, hyping up the crowd. They eat it up. Eddie’s born to perform.

His eyes find yours and he blows a kiss. You shake your head. After all these years, Eddie still flusters you better than anybody.

“Those ladies before us were pretty dope, huh?” Eddie asks the crowd.

They scream their agreement. He grins.

“Hope you guys like Ozzy.”

Eddie is beautiful. He plays guitar like it’s an extension of himself. Everyone else is yelling to the lyrics, nearly drowning out the sound. You can only stand and stare. You probably look ridiculous gawking at them. But oh, well. You love Eddie Munson. If you look like a fool, so be it.

Jeff closes their performance. The crowd goes wild with applause.

You go backstage before the next band goes up; once the lights go down, it’ll be impossible to navigate the crowd. Backstage is thrumming with energy. You spot Birds of Prey first. Missy locks eyes with you. She struts to you, brow raised. You draw your shoulders back, braced for a fight.

“Princess!”

Eddie drapes himself over you like it’s been years since you’ve seen him as opposed to forty-five minutes. You hug him back, tearing your gaze from Missy.

“Hi, Eds,” you say.

“Hi, sweet thing!”

He squeezes you hard, curls tickling your cheek. Ah, yes. This is why you’re here.

“You were amazing,” you gush. “Really, really wonderful, Eds.”

Eddie looks like you’ve just told him he won ten million dollars.

“You really think so?” he asks. “Not just pumping my ego, are you?”

“No, Eddie. I loved it. Especially the Dio one.”

He grins.

“Oh, I know. Saw you dancing, pretty.”

“Stooop,” you whine. “Don’t make fun of me, Eds.”

“I’d never. You’re the best dancer there, angel.”

“Yo, Munson!”

One of the performers waves at Eddie.

“We’re heading out! C’mon.”

“Yeah, Eddie,” Missy coos. She looks at you. “Bring your friend too.”

Your stomach twists. Eddie turns to you.

“Hungry?”

“Oh, um… sure. Where are we going?”

“This burger joint. ‘S not far. I’ve been there loads of times.”

“With Missy?”

Eddie gives you a funny look.

“Sometimes her band comes. Wanna check it out?”

You don’t want to be a drag. Eddie is genuinely excited, hopped up on adrenaline. The rest of the band will be there too. It’s not fair to make him take you home.

“Okay,” you say, trying to smile. “Sure, Eds. Sounds great.”

Missy, luckily, takes another car. So it’s just you and Corroded Coffin in Eddie’s van. Jeff and Gareth chatter about the show and songs they should play next. You’re in the front seat, because Eddie always has you sit up front no matter who’s in the car.

“Eds?” you ask.

“Hm?”

“Are you, uh… h-how well do you know the bands that played tonight?”

Nice. Subtlety +100.

“The first guys who performed, Black Tar? Not that well. Their frontman, Beetle, he’s kind of a legend at Excalibur.”

“With the dragon tattoo?”

“That’s him. Staring at other guys’ tattoos, huh?”

“Actually, I was thinking the dragon would look much better on you, Eds.”

Eddie grins.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm.”

“I have been thinking of getting a new one. You haven’t chosen a tat for me since freshman year. High time we continue the tradition.”

“I think a blue dragon would look cool,” you say. “On your back or something.”

“My back? But then no one would see it, sweet thing.”

“I’d know it’s there.”

Eddie laughs.

“Would you come with me to get it?”

“Of course,” you say. “I always do. Even when you got your bats from that skeevy guy at The Hideout.”

“Now Bill was a nice dude and dirt cheap. ‘Sides, my arm didn’t turn green, did it?”

“Thank God,” you huff.

“Always worrying about me, sweet thing.”

“Somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t wreak havoc on unsuspecting Hawkins.”

Eddie pulls into the parking lot of Brey’s Beef. Big deals on big beef! the sign reads. Your chest tightens at the sight of Missy and her band inside. Eddie reaches for your hand and squeezes.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, yeah. Ready.”

Eddie opens your door and you curse how sweet he is and how in love you are.

Brey’s is a tiny burger shop that looks like it time-traveled here from the 50s. You go with Eddie to the counter and study the menu boards while you wait in line.

“Their milkshakes are to die for,” Eddie whispers in your ear.

“To die for, huh? Munson approved?”

“One hundred percent.”

You order a cheeseburger and a strawberry milkshake. Eddie orders an ungodly creation called The Demon and a mint chocolate milkshake. You make a face.

“Hope you like your toothpaste shake,” you snort.

“Mint chocolate is superior,” Eddie shoots back and pulls out his wallet.

“Eds, wait—”

“No, no,” he says, pushing your coin purse aside. “I’m paying.”

“Eddie, no, c’mon…”

“Who got paid tonight?” Eddie asks, shaking his wallet. “Lemme treat you, princess. ‘S not like I get to do it much this year.”

Eddie pays and scoots you to the condiment counter. You sigh, shoving your coin purse back in your coat.

“Eds, I would’ve paid. You should save that money.”

“‘S okay, sweet thing. You’re worth it.”

God, how can he just say those things? He has to know what they do to you, doesn’t he?

“I’ll wait for the food, ‘kay? You can sit down.”

You glance at where the others are and try to hide your grimace.

“Okay, Eds. Thanks.”

You take the seat at the end of the table. Missy and her band are in the middle, heavily flirting with the Black Tar members. As soon as she spots you, she stops. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“So,” she says. “This is the famous Hawkins Princess I’ve heard so much about.”

“Just Y/N is fine,” you mumble.

She laughs and tosses her hair over her shoulder.

“Didn’t know Eddie hung out with your sort.”

“My sort?”

“Y’know.” She gestures. “Normie. Uptight. Did you even know any of the songs tonight?”

“Some of them. Eddie’s played Dio and Sabbath for me.” You turn to Beetle. “Your opening number was a really cool cover. Judas Priest, right?”

Beetle winks at you. “Hell yeah it was. Thanks, Hawkins.”

Missy sneers.

“Well, you know how to pretend, I’ll give you that. I’m surprised, though.” She turns to her friend. “Remember when that one townie wandered in? How embarrassing.”

Her friend giggles.

“Oh, yeah. He was so jumpy too. God, what a freak.”

The word makes you feel sick.

“Eddie thought it was hilarious too,” Missy adds. She looks at you. “I guess metal’s not for everyone.”

“Lay off, Miss,” Beetle says. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I’m not!” she squeals. “I’m just saying, y’know, people should stay in their lane.”

“Eddie says metal is for everybody,” you say, stronger than you feel.

“Of course he’d tell you that,” she scoffs. “And then you’ll go back to college for six months and he’ll forget all about you. Eddie’s not gonna want somebody holding him down, duchess.”

And that does it. You can’t take anymore. You’ll apologize to Eddie in the morning for walking out but right now, you’re tired. If this is the girl Eddie wants, you won’t fight.

Missy whines after you, syrupy venom sinking into your brain.

“Running already, queenie?” she mocks.

Eddie told you once there’s no shame in running. He said taking shit isn’t heroic. If you can, leave. So you do.

It’s windy and freezing. You know it has to be midnight at least. November nights in Hawkins aren’t known to be mild. You pull your jacket tighter around your shoulders and walk down the sidewalk. Maybe you can hail a cab or something.

Something wet hits your cheek. You wipe away the tear. Another falls, then another.

“Y/N, angel? Wait up!”

Eddie catches your bicep, tugging you around to face him. Fuck. You’ve never been good at lying to Eddie. He can see right through you. You have to think of something.

“Sweet thing, why are you crying?” Eddie pulls up his sleeve and brushes your tears. He looks devastated. “Princess, please don’t cry. Who did this? Tell me, I’ll make sure they don’t bother you again.”

And you can’t help it. The name falls out.

“Missy,” you gasp.

Eddie’s immediately confused.

“Wh—Missy? She made you cry?”

You nod, sniffling pitifully. This is not how tonight should’ve gone.

“What the fuck,” he snaps, and you flinch. This is it; this is where Eddie chews you out for starting drama with the girl of his dreams.

“Oh,” Eddie whispers, eyes wide. “No, no, ‘m sorry. Not mad at you, babe. Sorry, sorry. I just—fuckin’ cannot believe she made you cry. How shitty can you get?”

“I shouldn’t be crying,” you say. “I shouldn’t, it’s stupid, I just—”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie pulls you into a hug, rubs your back in slow circles. “Stop it. Don’t say it’s stupid. If it made you upset, it’s not stupid.”

“I know you like her,” you cry into his shoulder. “I don’t mean to ruin that, I—”

“Whoa, what? Sweet thing, Missy’s just another singer. We’re not betrothed or anything.”

“But you said—over the summer—”

“Yeah, we got to know each other. But she’s just part of the scene. And there’s a bajillion people like that. She’s nothing special, princess, no way. She definitely doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

“But she is metal. And I’m not. And I’m gonna go back to school soon and you’re gonna find somebody who knows all of Dio’s albums and plays Dungeons and isn’t scared of getting tattoos or piercings or—”

“Y/N,” Eddie says. “I don’t care about any of that. You could religiously listen to the Hot 100 like Harrington does, whatever. Doesn’t matter. Won’t change the fact that I’m crazy about you. Nobody’s got my heart but you.”

Eddie freezes. Slowly, you draw back to meet his gaze.

“You’re crazy about me?”

He gnaws the inside of his cheek, looking everywhere but you.

“I, uh… y-yeah. I am.”

You hold on tighter because it feels like Eddie might try to back up first so you won’t have to push him away.

“I’m crazy about you too,” you confess.

Eddie’s eyes go big as dinner plates.

“Me?”

“There’s never been anybody but you,” you inform with delight.

Eddie’s smile is sweet and a little bashful. He surges forward, hands landing on your hips. You put your arms around his neck.

“Kiss me, Eds?”

“Anything for you, sweet thing.”

Eddie is gentle. He moves his arms up, trying to block you from the wind chill. You play with the ends of his curls. It’s everything you’ve wanted since freshman year and more. Eddie’s warm and everywhere. You feel him smile against your lips.

“Told ya you’re my girl,” he murmurs.

You smile softly.

“Sap.”

“Oh, I mean, uh—” Eddie clears his throat. “You’re my girl in a mean and scary way.”

“Very convincing.”

“Thanks, baby. Wanna get outta here?”

You frown at the windows.

“I kinda wanted to try those Munson-approved burgers.”

“Oh! Shit, hold on.”

He hands you the keys and runs inside. You turn on the van, cranking the heat to four. Eddie flits from the counter to the table. He says something to Missy she does not look happy about. You wiggle giddily in your seat.

Eddie returns shortly. You roll down the window so he can give you the food and shakes. Then he gets into the car, blowing hot air into his hands.

“I hope you didn’t start a fight with Missy,” you frown.

“I just told her to stay the hell away from us.” Eddie shrugs. “Turns out Beetle chewed her out plenty.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yeah. You made quite the impression.” Eddie grins and nudges you. “You’re more metal than me, sweet thing. Gareth and Jeff are getting a ride back with him.”

You grimace.

“I guess they weren’t too happy about us ditching them.”

“Nah, they were understanding. Told them I wanted to take my girlfriend home.”

You laugh, warmth flooding you.

“Oh, really. And what did they say to that?”

Eddie grins.

“‘It’s about damn time.’”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x yn #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #friends to lovers

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 month

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Nobody's Girl - A Luca Changretta/OC Story.

Okay, okay! I got the message quite clearly that just a few of you are more than a wee bit excited for this, so regardless of the poll results, ya bestie over here is giving you the first chapter. Everybody gather round and meet Emily Jane. She shyly says hi.

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,224

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Brooklyn, 1923. It was a dangerous place to be in certain areas of the New York borough, where bullets fell like rain and crimson bled plentifully into the gutters. Its misdeeds were becoming famous, the mob swelling like a well-fed beast, prowling the streets unleashed, snarling and hungry. In Brooklyn, the mafia were the kings, whether you, your mother, your cousin or the cops liked it or not.

It was generally advised that you did not protest.

Wiseguy compliance was safer than the alternative, and everybody knew it. When they came knocking, offering fistfuls of dollars to store barrels mostly containing contraband beer, gin and whiskey within the warehouses of legitimate businesses, the proprietors knew that you either said yes or you died. That money you were so generously handed would be earned back, though.

“So look, uh, you gonna be lookin’ after this cargo for us, right? That means there are gonna be certain guys on the street who ain’t gonna be too pleased about you working with us. So, what I’m gonna do is have a few of my guys lookin’ out for ya. Fifty bucks a week and nothin’ happens to your business, or your family.”

The story was the same for any other business within the radius of their turf, racketeering forced upon you whether you guarded contraband alcohol for them or not.

It was generally advised that you paid them the fifty bucks.

Of course, when it came to the families going to war with one another, there was nobody there to protect you, whether you paid into a protection racket or didn't. If the police were called, they generally – and purposefully - arrived too late, the large wedges of cash stuffed into their back pockets by whichever mob crew were buying their compliance ensuring that.

No, when the gunfire erupted and turned the silent streets into a bloodied cacophony, you knew there was only one thing to do.

It was generally advised that you duck.

On that particular chilly November night, though, with the threat of snow hanging heavy in the air from the thickened clouds above, one young woman opted not to duck. Instead, she chose to walk right out into the carnage, for it was perhaps the only avenue she could tentatively tread upon in order to save herself from hell.

The Changretta’s and the Calabrese's had been at war with one another over turf for months, disputes rife over what mob presided over which area, promises of blood come good after negotiations had failed, leading to the shootout between both crews in the dead of night.

Bullets peppered the air, tattooing the buildings and cars along the street, screams and shouts only just about audible over the thrum of heavy machine gun fire, men diving and dying left and right. The sins they fought and died for knew no difference, but somewhere in the madness, these men of bloodthirsty savagery had a line they would not ever cross.

The Changretta mob scanned the desolate street, high alert agitating their blood, neurons firing rapidly as they watched the area, looking, waiting for movement. The enemy had been thinned to what appeared to be nothing, their bodies littering the ground, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more lying in wait.

Luca’s unblinking eyes toured the darkness, daring to slowly rise from his concealed place behind the front wing of a shot-out Ford, each step crunching the shattered glass beneath his feet. Nothing. They’d accomplished the extermination mission sufficiently, not a single Calabrese goon left breathing.

“Boss! On your left!”

At his right hand’s call, Luca spun, directing his gun at what his eyes picked out through the inky night, a glowing light splitting the dark, his men beginning to fire.

“Stop, fuckin’ guns down, now!” he bellowed, his cadence rising sharply, way above his usual silky, rumbling drawl. “It’s a girl, you dumb fucks.”

She seemed to glide over the ground, her feet bare, platinum hair matted and tangled, the white lace of her dress torn and bloodied.

“What the fuck? Is it a trap, or what?”

Luca turned to view Enzo with a slight shrug, his hand reaching out to grasp his arm when he raised his gun. “Ah, aspetta, aspetta.” At being told to wait, his right hand once again lowered the machine gun, both Italians watching as the girl continued her walk, her eyes wide and dazed, her face bloody, purple welts marking her features. The closer she got, the more of them Luca noticed, angry and swollen upon her pale skin, the infliction of brutality tarnishing much of her body, a body that buckled as she suddenly fell, collapsing in the middle of the street.

“Ain’t no trap.” Moving out fully, Luca strode through rivers of blood and bullets, removing his long, wool coat, wrapping it over the barely dressed blonde as he crouched at her side. “Hey, what the fuck happened to you, huh?” He gave her cheek a few gentle slaps, trying to rouse her. “You with me? C’mon, wake up.” This truly wasn’t the time or place for damsels in distress. He had himself and his guys to think of before all else.

Her eyelids fluttered, blinking rapidly a few times as she came to, curling herself smaller. Her mouth opened, and Luca was sure she said something, but her voice was ghostly, so quiet he was scarcely sure she’d spoken at all.

“What? I can’t hear you.” He leaned closer, craning his ear, just about able this time to hear her words.

“There’s a bomb under your car. Twenty seconds.”

With widened eyes, his head spun round to where his assembled crew waited. “Move! The fuckin’ car is live, move!” Pulling her up off the street and into his arms, he and his men began to run, covering the ground rapidly. They’d gotten a good hundred feet away, yet their eardrums still all but ruptured when the TNT blew, reducing the Buick to an inferno.

They took cover behind another car, a car Enzo rapidly broke open the door of, cranking the engine into life. “Let’s get the fuck outta here, eh?”

So, it looked to Emily like she was leaving one set of wiseguys and going with another as the tall, slender man who held her jumped into the back of the car, three other guys piling in, the car shuddering out from its spot and being directed in the opposite direction to the blast.

“Hey boss,” Dante piped up from the passenger seat, nodding at the blonde. “Who’s the dame?”

“You know as much as I do.” He was just about to ask her that very question, looking down to see her head lolled over his arm, out cold once more. Whatever the fuck she’d been through, he could gauge it was a lot. Giving him the kind of information she had, though, information that had saved him and his crew from being blasted to smithereens, he wasn’t just about to let he be on her way.

If she knew about the bomb, then what other information might she have? The firefight had not exterminated all of the Calabrese mob, just a mere handful of foot soldiers.

Exiting the car on the corner of Third Avenue, Luca strode towards the doors of Bella Vita, the bar turned speakeasy he owned, the doormen nodding to him and swinging the doors open. He took an immediate right, the thumping blare of jazz music and patrons having a fabulous time hurting his still fragile, bomb-blasted ears, another large man employed for security purposes opening the next door he came to.

It closed with a heavy thud behind him, the wall of noise muted, Luca beginning to climb the stairs that led to his spacious apartment. It had only been home for seven months, since he had the former three dwellings gutted out and fashioned into something more resembling the comfort he was accustomed to. High standing members of the mafia did not reside in shabbiness.

His former abode, a sprawling townhouse upon the Upper West Side of Manhattan, was now solely home to his ex-wife and three children. For a quicker divorce from the wretched, screaming harpy whom he had once loved very dearly, he considered it a cheap price to part with for the sake of his sanity. Her alimony was also eye watering, but it wasn’t like Luca didn’t rake in serious bank.

He’d also never deprive Milania, Guiseppe and Alessio of anything. His sons were the apple of his eye, and his daughter, well, she was quintessentially daddy’s little girl. He just wished she had a smidgen less of her mother’s hot-headed temper. Then again, he supposed he deserved every ounce of it, not being a particularly good husband to Filomena.

Well, it was subjective, really. He provided for her, took her out regularly, bought her an abundance of luxuries from expensive jewellery to beautiful furs, but he did have somewhat of a predisposition for sticking his cock where he most certainly should not have stuck it. Filomena had all but turned a blind eye to his philandering ways, and Luca knew that was why he’d continued to do it, because she'd let him. She didn’t care, it seemed, so why should he?

Maybe if she’d have been the kind of woman to crack his jaw and tell him in no uncertain terms that he was hers and hers alone, he might have fixed up and adhered to the fidelity he’d promised her, but she never had. It went right over his head that this is what he should have pledged without the threat of violence in the first place.

The final straw finally drove her into action, though, arriving home earlier than he’d expected one day to find him in bed with two whores, one astride his face and the other riding his cock. There weren’t many women out there who could witness the man they loved in that kind of scenario and still continue to love him. She’d given him nothing but pure, unfiltered hell in the time between, Luca agreeing to all of her demands, just as long as she didn’t touch either his car collection, his speakeasy, or his home in the Catskills.

Carrying the mystery blonde over to the lounge area of the open plan apartment, he placed her down on the dark, oxblood leather chesterfield, noticing that she’d come round again. “You wanna drink, sweetheart?”

She nodded, beginning to tremble a little. “Hey, you’re alright. I ain’t gonna do nuthin’ bad to ya.” Emily doubted his sincerity, knowing wiseguys as well as she did. His voice was half salty rumble, half viper’s hiss, but each word was delivered with the kind of hush that made her feel soothed, she had to admit. The quietness of his tone made a nice change from being yelled at. “Whaddya drinkin'?”

“A water, p-please,” she stuttered, Luca nodding. He’d been offering liquor, but water he could do, too.

He paused before going to fetch it, crouching before her, studying her wounds a little more closely now she was under the brighter lights within his home. “Those cuts are nasty, doll. Who fuckin’ did this, eh?” He reached for her face, regretting it instantly when she shot across the couch, curling into a ball at the opposite end. “Woah, hey. Like I said, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help you, and for you to tell me what you know about the Calabrese guys. I’m guessin’ you know a whole lot, to know one of ‘em stuck a bomb beneath my car.”

She trembled, her eyes wide, her silence profound. “I’m gonna get you that water.” He rose to his feet slowly, knowing he had to treat her as if she were an injured fawn, everything slow and steady, save her from becoming furtherly spooked.

Caring for another, though, was somewhat beyond his usual skill set. Luckily from his own scrapes, he both knew how – and possessed the necessities - to clean up wounds before they became an infected mess, going to the bathroom and pulling out gauze and a bottle of iodine, returning to the kitchen to fetch her requested glass of water.

He handed it to her, moving to his drinks cabinet then and pouring himself a large measure of whiskey, returning to sit in front of her on the coffee table. “You gonna let me clean you up?”

She shook her head, spilling several drops of water as she lifted the glass to her lips, downing it in its entirety.

He nodded, sucking the matchstick he was chewing before removing it. “Alright. You gonna tell me what you know?”

Again, she shook her head.

He shrugged, a little agitated, but knowing he had to play his cards carefully. “I got all night, doll. Could start with your name, though, if the rest is too much to ask.”

She wanted to trust him. Hell, he could have simply dropped her from his grasp and left her there on the street, but he’d taken her with him, back to the safety of his apartment, no less. Of course, though, it was to gain information. Then again, if it was solely that, why was he trying to help her? Men who sought only answers to their questions seldom had the interest to clean wounds. Hell, they usually jammed a gun to your tonsils and told you to spill all as soon as they removed it.

Who was she to him that he’d care whether her cuts were bathed? Still, it took him a patient wait of just over a half hour until she finally spoke.

“Emily Jane,” she finally replied, swallowing hard. “Emily Jane Mortensen. Most people just call me Emily, though.”

He lifted his chin, pointing to her water glass. “You want another in there, Emily?”

“Please.”

Well, she had a name, at least. It was as good a start as any. “You know,” he began, long legs extending as he rose to his feet, walking back over to the kitchen area, “the Calabrese’s won’t do shit to you with me around. If that’s why you’re scared to talk, ain’t no mind, doll.” Returning to her, he resumed his seat upon the coffee table, handing over the glass. “Like I said, though. I got all night.”

Protection. Something she’d longed for, but could she truly trust it? She knew exactly who he was; Luca Changretta, the big boss, the number one apex predator at the top of the mafia hierarchy. It was either the very best, or the absolute worst place that she could have ended up. “Gino Calabrese ordered Joey, his youngest son to have the bomb planted, so that if the firefight didn’t kill you, the blast definitely would.”

His eyebrows rose a little, chewing the matchstick slowly. “And you know this how? Who are ya, to Gino?”

Finishing her water, she reached to place it upon the coffee table, Luca taking it from her, resting his forearms back to his thighs as he leaned forward, looking expectant. “Um, nothing to him, but to his son, I – well, I was his card counter. That’s kinda moot now, though, since you and your guys put about sixteen bullets in his chest.”

His lip curled slightly. “Card counter?”

“Yeah. I have a real fast brain for math, so technically I can’t ever be beaten in a game of blackjack. I won Joey thousands upon thousands at games all over, from Vegas to Reno. Illegal games, too. Women don’t usually get a seat at the table, but I got to, because...”

“Cuz’ Joey boy was partially sighted, I’m guessin’, right? You were his alleged eyes, but truly, you were there to tell him when to make his moves, amirite?”

God, he was very sharp. “Correct,” she confirmed, although Luca still looked slightly dubious, reaching behind him and grabbing something. He turned back to reveal a deck of cards, sliding them from the box and giving them a rapid shuffle.

“Show me.” Standing, he moved to sit beside her on the couch, dragging the table nearer and dealing out as he were the house, Emily moving a little nearer.

“Alright, so I mostly use the Hi-Lo strategy. It means if the ratio of high to low cards is higher than normal, the player can make bets that are larger when the deck is favourable.”

He noticed it instantly, how when presented with the opportunity to show off her skill, she unwound from the nervous, tense little waif he’d carried into his home just over an hour before. “How’d you know if the deck is favourable?” he asked, a frown knitting between his dark brows as he pointed at them on the table.

“You have to track the ratio of high to low cards by assigning them with a value. You begin at zero, then as each card comes up, you add it to your tally. Cards two to six have a value of plus one, cards seven to nine have no value, and cards worth ten and also aces have a value of minus one, so you keep adding and subtracting, betting accordingly. Watch. Hit me.”

He dealt her another card, Emily tapping it. Another was placed. “I’m holding.” Turning the other cards, he saw she would have won her hand had they been playing for cash. He made her do it another five times before he truly believed what she could do, sitting there with slightly widened eyes.

“Look at that, huh?” he spoke, gathering the cards from the table and returning them to the pile. “No wonder he kept you around.”

She shrugged. “Shame it wasn’t of my own free will. All of this mess I’m in, it was because I tried to get away from him earlier, so he took a set of brass knuckles to me. Wasn’t the first time either.”

He studied her face, his jaw tightening. Luca had few codes of honour, and not taking his fists to a woman was high upon that list. He hissed a breath, his eyes narrowing. “Fuckin’ asshole. I’m extra glad I shot the living fuck outta him now.”

Dropping her gaze, she folded her arms, looking at her bare feet. “So am I.”

Reaching for his drink, he knocked it back, truly feeling glad that Joey no longer breathed. If there was one thing he truly detested, it was a woman beater. He didn’t have much to be proud of in his life, morally speaking, but he had never and would never raise a hand to a woman. Ever. “Fuckin’ brass knuckles, Jesus above. I know how much those fuckin’ things hurt only too well.”

She snorted softly, her eyes finding his again, her heart doing a little somersault as she watched the peridot shards glint at her through the low light. Hoo boy, he was a handsome one. Deadly, but handsome nonetheless. “Who on earth is brave enough to take a set of brass knuckles to the famous Luca Changretta, and live to tell the tale?”

He smirked, rising to his feet. “Nobody these days, but when I was still comin’ up, plenty of guys.” Moving back to the drinks cabinet, he took the bottle of whiskey, turning to her. “You want another water in there, or somethin’ else? I got just about everythin'.”

Peering at him over the back of the couch, he felt his inside pinch a little. She was so tiny and cute. “Could I have a vodka rocks, please?”

“You can, but ice I don’t have. Gimme a sec.” He strode across the space again, heading back down the stairs, the sounds of music growing louder and then returning to the dull rumble, Emily moving to pull on the long coat around her, feeling chilly. It smelled of him. The woody, musky, yet slightly spicy notes of whatever cologne he wore filled her nose as she held the soft lapels to her face.

The sudden blare of music signalled his imminent return, the tall Italian appearing from the stairwell once more, carrying with him an ice bucket he placed upon the table, going back to the cabinet and collecting the whiskey and vodka bottles, pouring a large measure into her glass, dropping the ice in and handing it to her.

“Thank you,” she spoke, Luca noticing her manners were impeccable, also watching her face as it twisted into a grimace, Emily hissing before straightening her leg, examining her grazed knee.

He gestured to her injuries with a sweeping hand. “Gonna let me help you with that yet? You’re kinda bleeding all over my couch.”

In an instant, she looked horrified. “Oh, I’m so sorry, and probably your coat, too. I’m an idiot, I'll sit on the floor.”

He moved swiftly, shaking his head. “It’s fine, ain’t no bother, doll.” In truth, it was, but he kept that to himself. Blood cleaned off, he had to concede. This girl, he needed to keep her sweet in order to keep on feeding him further information that he sensed she possessed. Joey Calebrese might not have been high up within his criminal family, a street guy who was not yet elevated at the time of his death (and which was why, Luca guessed, he’d used Emily for her card counting skills to make the kind of bank his lower standing didn’t allow for) but being around them, she was bound to know more.

She was a valuable asset, and he’d treat her as such.

He picked up the handful of gauze and iodine, moving back to the coffee table. “It’s gonna sting like fuck, but you likely know that.”

She did. Bracing herself, she clenched her teeth as one by one, Luca dabbed each cut and graze with the iodine-soaked gauze, wincing, hissing at the burning, sharp sting. “Gonna be a little black n’ blue for a while, honey,” he drawled, his mouth tilting into a smile. “Still pretty, though.”

He winked, and it sent a spark through her, although the rational side of her brain told her that allowing herself to be charmed by a dangerous mobster was the last thing she truly needed right then. He didn’t make it easy, though, being attentive to her, looking as good as he did. She’d always had a thing for older men, and she could guess he likely had at least a decade and a half on her twenty-three years.

“So, you gotta home I can take you to, people wonderin’ where the fuck you vanished to?”

Home. It was a word she didn’t really have any true comprehension over, the place that to everyone else acted as a sanctuary, a safe haven, had truly been anything but to her. “No, I don’t.”

“No port in a storm, huh?” he asked, gently lifting her leg to rest upon his slender thigh, smoothing her dress up a little to reach a cut beneath. His hands were so hot. Yet another spark flared within her belly.

“No, no port.” She paused, meeting his eyes, knowing he was expecting more. “I’ve no idea who my father was, and my mother was a drunk, still is for all I know. I don’t have any siblings either so when I was eighteen, I left California and made my way across the country to New York. Wanted a better life for myself. It didn’t exactly go to plan. I have a habit of trusting the wrong people.”

He looked away from her then, eyes flitting to her knee, pressing the gauze onto an open cut. He was definitely a man she shouldn’t have trusted, and he wasn’t entirely sure why that suddenly prickled quite sharply at his conscience, but it did.

“You probably don’t trust me, but if you wanna crash here until you find your feet, you’re welcome to.”

She looked at him with big, grey eyes full of hope. “Really, you don’t mind?”

He sniffed. “Wouldn’t have offered if I did.” Placing the cork back into the iodine bottle, he moved to take a seat beside her again, picking up his drink. “Might be better if you do, actually. The Calabrese’s are likely lookin’ for ya. If you vanished and didn’t wind up as a dead body, and I didn’t get blown up, then it don’t take no genius to work out that you ratted on ‘em.”

Shit. She hadn’t even considered that. It was a fear Luca was banking on playing upon, and it had worked flawlessly. “S’okay, though, sweetheart. As long as you’re with me, they ain’t gonna touch ya. You’re fine.”

Was she, though? Emily truly had to wonder. She pondered over it for the rest of the night, Luca telling her she could go take a bath and clean up, loaning her one of his shirts to wear that absolutely buried her, telling her he’d take the couch while she slept in his bed. She tried to protest, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

“I ain’t exactly a gentleman in a lot of respects, but you ain’t gonna sleep on the couch. Nah. It’s fine.”

Was it, though? As her tired eyes fluttered, lying in the comfort of a big bed that smelled like her host, she truly did have to wonder.

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itslottiehere · 9 months

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mors tua, vita mea — h.s

hello beautiful people 🤍 welcome back! i know, i know, it’s been a while, but i truly hope this story makes up for the lack of writing! i’ve had so much fun while writing this, and i hope you’ll like it as much as i do <3 please, let me know what you think! you can do so in your reblog, in your tags, or in my asks! if you enjoy the story, please consider reblogging! it really helps me and also make me want to keep going!! without further ado, happy reading! <3

— inspired by “getaway car” by taylor swift.

cw: angst, a bit of kissing, some swear words

word count: 6.5k

gif by @londonharry

masterlist | leave your feedback or requests here

—

the backstreet was dark, a few spots of light showing her the way to the car she hid before the heist took place. before chris could know that there was only one way that night could have ended, and that was with him locked up.

she had been planning this for months now: their biggest heist, her biggest betrayal.

she wasn’t sentimental about it at all, it was just pure business: she knew the cops were closing in on them, so she had to leave before shit hit the fan. simple as that.

also, chris was becoming way too attached to her as it was, so it was really a two birds with one stone deal for her: she had always made it clear that their “relationship” was nothing more than work, but sometimes the nights in the safe house got boring and lonely, and the company was appreciated.

still, a few nights of sex didn’t mean there were feelings involved or anything of that sort, and no matter how much chris said that he “got it”, she noticed the changes in his attitude, how protective of her he became, how his touch would linger for a second longer, how he would double and triple check with her if she got wounded, how he would always make sure she was safe before worrying about his own safety.

how he made it so easy for her to manipulate him.

the poor thing never saw it coming. the pink lenses of infatuation making him painfully oblivious to the fact that he was never gonna see her again.

both her and the outside world, from her calculations: the cops would find plenty of evidence on him, in the safe house, that would tie him up with a pretty little bow and send him off to prison for god’s know how long, all the while making him the perfect scapegoat for her.

she couldn’t know if chris would rat her out, — although she thought it not likely, given the lovesick puppy look he had ever since they slept together, — but even if he tried to, she made sure not to leave any trace of her identity in any document, in anything that had to do with any illegal activity.

and even if she did, they wouldn’t have found her: the identity she used wasn’t hers, and she was gonna stop being the person chris knew as soon as she drove away, her new id card safely stored in the pocket of her jacket, the old one burnt to a crisp.

the soles of her shoes were scraping against the gravel, the ground wet from the light november rain, while she jogged to what would bring her into a new life, a new start. she had to get out of there, immediately.

what she wasn’t expecting was a dark silhouette appearing on the other side of the alley, seemingly jogging towards her.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

she was so sure she had locked the exit door on the back, so how did chris manage to get out? he would have had to figure out she was planning on framing him.

if that was the case, this wasn’t gonna end well.

she opened up the door to her car, ready to bolt, when the unknown figure spoke slowly: “wait.”

that was not chris. the voice was deep, rough, and the way he pronounced just one single word made chills run through her body.

or maybe that was just the adrenaline of it all, the fear of getting caught betraying her partner by said partner.

“wait.” the figure spoke once more, getting closer to the car. “i need a lift.”

what the actual fuck? did he take her for an uber driver or something?

she scoffed and got in the car, keys inside the ignition, ready to drive off.

which couldn’t be done since the tall figure decided to stand in the middle of the alley.

she couldn’t really honk, not when the alarms inside the building were about to go off and the place was about to be stormed by cops. she had to leave, and if she had to run over him, then so be it.

she put her foot on the gas, put in the first gear and was very much convinced that the man would decide to move out of the way.

but she had no such luck.

his hands hit the hood of her car, hard, while she pressed on the breaks with all her strength in order to not make him flat on the ground.

so much for survival instincts, she thought.

“were you really about to run me over?” the man spoke — his figure now becoming clearer since he was nearer than before. a lazy smirk cut his face. “mmh. i like you.”

and just like that he was opening the passenger’s door, seating down and buckling his seatbelt.

she was utterly shocked, what the hell was going on, why was he- “who the fuck are you? and what the actual fuck do you think you’re doing in my car?”

the man chuckled lowly, casting two deep indents in his cheeks. “oh wow, they didn’t tell me the owl had such a filthy mouth.”

the name made her eyes go wide: the owl. working in the darkest hours of the night was her distinctive trait, hence the nickname she chose for herself while doing business.

“‘m harry, by the way. don’t have a cool nickname like yours yet, but perhaps i should find one. what about the puma? what do you think?”

she scoffed, looking straight and finally driving away. “well, harry or the puma or whatever you wanna be called-”

“harry is just fine.”

“alright, harry, would you mind telling me why the fuck are you here?” her patience was wearing thin and she really didn’t want to lose any more time on this.

“oh right, sort of forgot to tell you, didn’t i? okay, well, my dear owl- hold up, don’t i get to know your name? i told you mine.” he turned his body to face her.

judging by the deep frown of her eyebrows and how set her eyes were on the road in front of them, he assumed he wouldn’t get it that easily.

“well, doesn’t matter for now. so, back to where i was: i have been checking you out for a while, saw your latest works and was very impressed. i’m in need of a partner, and from what i saw tonight, so do you.” he spoke, and in the far distance they could hear the police sirens and spot the blue and red lights: everything was about to go down.

harry coming to bother her on that particular night was really somewhat karmic, wasn’t it? she screwed over her partner, so fate had to bring an annoying man in her plans, once again. she cleared her throat, her tone dry.

“how did you know what i would do?”

harry turned once again towards the road. “i knew the police was closing in on you, so i thought that if you played your cards right you may have the chance to get away, and the better escape plan would have been to ditch your partner.” the man in her passenger seat stretched his legs, his arms raised up, his voice coming out a bit strained. “word on the street was that tonight something was going down, i thought to check it out to see if it was actually gonna be you. my lucky night, i’d say.”

harry had heard plenty about the owl’s operations and was extremely intrigued by her. the plans were intricate, but incredibly well thought out, and often went down without a hitch, and the chosen artworks to be stolen being invaluable masterpieces made it all the more admirable. he knew as soon as he saw one of her biggest heists go down so smoothly that he desperately wanted to be in business with her, so he began keeping tabs on her, which brought him in that alley, that precise night.

he didn’t expect to be so entranced to her.

sure, he was in awe of her plans and the way she carried on her business, but he was struck by her. even more than her looks, it was the confidence she radiated from her stance, her set gaze, her clenched jaw, that was what drew him in immediately.

he knew she was trouble, especially given her line of work. but it seemed like he couldn’t help himself to fall under her spell, and that was saying something, since she tried to run him over not even 20 minutes prior.

oh, poor harry didn’t know what he was getting into.

she wasn’t dumb, nor blind: harry was a treat for the eyes, and obviously way more prepared than chris ever was. still to that day she couldn’t believe he didn’t see it coming, it was all so clear to her. she was sneaky, of course, but he must’ve had some clue, right? or well, she guessed that what people say is true: love makes you dumb.

harry was another league, though. he kept track of her, which must’ve not been easy since she always took so many precautions to keep everything on the down low; he discovered her plan and also understood that the better route for her was to ditch her partner.

he definitely had more experience than chris, and that could be an advantage: for once, she could have someone to bounce ideas off of, and since harry managed to find out her ironclad plans, it means that something wasn’t as hidden as she would’ve liked, and having him could help with that.

when she started her business, she swore that she had to be the one calling all the shots: being the perfectionist she is, she couldn’t relegate the responsibility of something so important like a heist to someone who wasn’t herself. she decided to get a partner — enter, chris — just because sometimes it was physically impossible to do it all on her own. that didn’t change the fact that he was merely a mean to an end, he had no voice whatsoever in planning anything, and not once had he complained about it, nor he had any reason to: the money was good, and once he even got to win her affection — or well, what he thought could’ve turned into something more — he was good with doing whatever she wanted.

she had the feeling it wasn’t gonna be like this with harry.

or well, at least not that easy.

“that was impressive, not going to lie. it mustn’t have been easy to keep track of my movements. so, bravo.” she spoke, her eyes quickly glancing towards him.

a smirk took place on harry’s face, the praise of such a pro stroking his ego. “it was, but very much worth it.”

his voice was smooth like silk, and even the dumbest person walking on earth could’ve felt the flirty undertones of his words from miles away.

she quickly thought about it, a new plan. a new, better plan.

“okay, pretty boy. if you can keep up, i can think about being partners. that is, if you prove worthy of my time.”

“deal.” he smiled, and again the dimples on his cheeks made an appearance. “pretty boy, huh? should that be my badass nickname?”

“still better than the puma.”

that night marked the beginning of a new era, four years of the most lucrative, crazy, exciting heists the both of them could have ever imagined.

and over the course of those years, the inevitable and not so unexpected happened: they fell for each other, and they fell hard.

endless night of planning, scheming, and building trust with each other turned them into real life bonnie and clyde, absolutely drunk on adrenaline and love.

it was definitely not something she had planned, not something she had wanted either, but there was no denying chemistry: sometimes, things just happen, and you have no choice but to let them run their course.

harry was just as smitten: he was hooked from the beginning, and fought hard to win her over from day one.

it started as a ‘business partners with benefits’ kind of deal, a way to ‘pass the time’, — at least for her, harry was already harboring feelings for the woman — but it bloomed into something more, somewhat organically.

he still teased her that she became soft for him when he got injured during an escape: the rope attached to the top of the building didn’t hold up harry, who suffered a bad fall. his shoulder was dislocated, and she had to be the one who had to put it back in place, since hospitals weren’t really an option, and harry couldn’t ignore the look she held in her eyes, as if even just the thought of hurting him was physically hurting her.

he didn’t expect it, definitely not from someone like the infamous owl: she showed no remorse for her actions, no feelings for the first six months of them working together, and he made peace with the fact that that was just the way it was gonna be, but was pleasantly surprised when that revealed not to be the case.

the world knew her as a scheming, logical woman, but harry had the privilege of being her soft spot.

he was always a pretty open guy, not scared of having big feelings or of falling in love. he had already felt it in the past, he just wasn’t prepared to experience how powerful it could feel with the right person: what he felt for her was something out of a novel, a perfect mixture of infatuation, almost obsession, adrenaline and maybe insanity, and it was so incredibly addicting.

the last heist was a perfect success, their biggest bag as a matter of fact. the artwork they managed to steal had taken months upon months of planning, but it all went down incredibly smoothly: 7 minutes, in and out, exactly like they had wanted. they were already far when the police arrived, harry behind the wheel, driving their getaway car.

with chris, she had never let him drive, ever: she had to be in control of everything, of every little aspect, probably because she never fully trusted him. but she did trust harry, wholeheartedly so.

the drive to the dingy motel wasn’t too long, the night chill enveloping them thanks to the lack of a roof on their car. the adrenaline was running high still, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and leaving a kiss on harry’s smiling lips, their grins quite too big to properly kiss each other. but it didn’t matter, the feeling was all the same, the rush quite impossible to describe to someone who never felt it.

harry disconnected their lips, not before leaving a quick peck once again, and looked back to the barely lit country road ahead of them.

“very risky to distract me like that right now, sweetheart.”

“couldn’t help it, pretty boy. you’re just too damn good-looking.” she smiled at the nickname, and harry did too: it stuck ever since that first night, and harry definitely never complained.

“c’mon, we’re almost at the motel.” harry’s hand took its rightful place on her left thigh, softly squeezing the flesh, awakening a storm of butterflies and inviting them to bat their wings in her stomach. she rested her hand on top of his, gently toying with his rings.

the motel neon sign was missing a few letters, its occupants nothing less than unsavory, but she didn’t care: she wasn’t one to be scared in the first place, much less with harry by her side.

once they got to their room, she locked the door and quickly found her back pressed into it, harry’s lips straight on hers. she knew what was coming, it happened every single time after a hit: the euphoria of a successful heist was a very powerful aphrodisiac.

harry’s lips pressed slowly against her own, he was in no hurry now. after he felt her body relaxing in his hold, he moved onto her neck, and smiled against her skin when he heard a shaky breath falling from her lips after he sucked lightly on the spot he knew would drive her crazy.

her hand went immediately into his hair, tugging on the curls she loved to play with at every chance she got, while the other travelled down his torso, heading towards his belt.

knowing where she was going, harry detached his lips from her neck and looked at her: flushed cheeks, her eyes — his favorite feature of hers — slightly glazed over, her lips full and a raspberry colour. he smiled at the sight.

“sweetheart,” he murmured. “sweetheart, hey.”

“mmh?” she hummed, her hands roaming under his shirt, feeling the expanse of his tummy and chest, pressing her lips in the dip of his throat.

harry hated to have to tear himself away from her and her touch, but a shower was in order, and also making her wait made the whole situation way more intriguing, her getting antsy waiting for him really did a number on him.

her forehead rested on his chest, a small whine falling from her lips when he felt him trying to move away from her, which made harry chuckle. he softly pressed a kiss to the top of her head, slowly walking backwards towards the restroom, but her arms refused to leave his body, so she was stumbling along with him, her cheek still smushed against his chest.

harry reached behind his back to untangle her arms from his waist, not without her protesting. he leaned in and planted a wet kiss on her cheek, murmuring a low “be right back”, before leaving the room.

she felt drunk, as she usually did whenever harry was in near proximity, but there was nothing she could do about it.

she laid down on the dingy bed, eagerly waiting for her lover to be back and, to kill the time, she decided to turn on the tv.

what she saw sobered her up real quick.

the news were reporting a robbery at a famous gallery, two figures with their dark hoodies up filmed from a camera at the end of the alley.

a camera both she and harry failed to notice.

they were lucky the camera was at the opposite end of the dark and unlit alley, and caught just a glimpse of their backs, but this wasn’t good. this was not supposed to happen.

never, in all her years of planning, had she forgot to notice a camera, and the fact that this happened with their biggest heist made the blood drain from her face.

she tried her hardest to lower her heart rate and to focus on what the newscaster was saying: two suspects, no faces identified, probably left by car, all the other cameras in the block were somehow off during the escape — somehow actually being the work of one of harry’s acquaintances — and the police had no leads for the moment.

all things considered, it wasn’t bad at all.

so why couldn’t she seem to catch her breath?

the bathroom door creaked open, a bit of steam filling the room. harry stepped out, a towel hanging on his lower half, his body glistening with little droplets of water, hair matted and still dripping a little.

he had a dopey smile on his lips, which soon fell once he noticed that she wasn’t ogling at him as she usually would when he stepped out of a shower.

“hey,” he called out to her, “something wrong?”

she didn’t even notice that harry had walked back into the room, so she slightly jumped at the sound of his voice. her head quickly turned towards him, as she just as quickly turned the tv off.

“of course, yeah.” she smiled. “missed you.”

“could’ve joined me, you know?” he grinned, “never would refuse a beautiful lady like you.” he got closer to her and pressed his lips softly against hers.

she reciprocated the kiss, disconnecting it quite a bit earlier than harry would’ve liked, and murmured still close to his lips, “can we cuddle for a bit?”

harry’s hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs slowly stroking the apples, “yeah, of course. want my shirt to sleep in?”

she excitedly nodded, staring at his back while he retrieved a shirt from his luggage.

sleep came quickly to harry, his arm holding her tightly against his chest, comforted by the feeling of having her safe in his arms.

she still couldn’t quite catch her breath.

harry woke up to an empty bed: the creamy rays of sun beamed through the worn blinds, rousing him awake. as he did every morning, he reached for her, looking forward to hooking his arm around her waist and feel her snuggle against his chest. but that day, his hand touched a cold piece of comforter instead of the warm, soft body of his girl.

his eyes opened immediately, trying to adapt to the light, his brows furrowed as he knuckled his eyes, trying to blink away the sleepiness. his slightly startled heart stopped once he saw her seated at the little desk the room provided, typing away on her computer, wrapped in his sweatshirt with her hair still damp from the shower she probably had just taken.

way too focused on adjusting the last details of the meetup with the buyer for that same night, she jumped when she felt two strong arms engulfing her.

“morning, love.” his morning voice was a gift straight from heaven, it never failed to make her feel warm and cozy. “don’t like it when i wake up without you.”

she could hear the pout on his face, and she smiled at the notion that he was so affected by her absence. “good morning, pretty boy. just had to take a shower and finalize the details for the drop off with the buyer tonight.” she turned around and looked at his still half closed eyes. she tilted her head up, puckering her lips a little, “kiss?”

harry didn’t miss a beat and laid his mouth on hers, moaning softly at the contact.

she hadn’t lied per se, she had to do all of what she said, but she also couldn’t stand lying awake in that bed for one more second: she had barely gotten any sleep the previous night, the video of them on the news flashing continuously in her mind.

so she tried to focus on work, to get things right before they could go wrong.

the day went by as usual, the two of them laying low, preparing for the meetup with this anonymous buyer. the sum of money this person was offering was definitely mind blowing, and there was no way they could turn it down.

in the late afternoon, they left the motel to reach the location given to them: it was a rundown warehouse, obviously abandoned, and they were under strict orders to arrive at 8pm on the dot, to leave the car outside the main gate, and proceed by feet till they arrived to the container with the number 258: that was where they’d find an employee of the buyer.

it was all routine, they almost never handled a deal with the buyer directly, and they understood the reason. she and harry never exchanged names as well, for safety reasons, or any other details, just informations about the drop.

at 7:50pm, they were parked outside the warehouse. the chill of the desert air made the hair on her arms stand, a shiver running down her spine.

“cold?” harry asked, after he noticed her shudder. it wasn’t that cold at the moment for him, and it was probably gonna be worse once the sun was set all the way, but nonetheless he put his jacket on her shoulders, his big hands running up and down her upper arms to give her some warmth.

she smiled at the gesture, and tilted her head up, “thank you.”

he reciprocated the smile and took her hand, in the other one holding the bag containing the stolen piece of art. “of course, darling. now let’s go, wanna be back in that motel bed as soon as possible,” he cheekily remarked.

they walked hand in hand till they found the container 258, and knocked three times, as instructed. the shutter was pulled up, a man dressed in a suit, who looked to be in his forties, appearing behind it.

“welcome, you must be the sellers. please, come in.” the unknown man spoke, and she and harry made their way inside.

harry laid the bag carefully on the table, beside a briefcase, previously set down.

“thank you, sir. as per your request by email, the-”

“actually,” harry interrupted, “you didn’t speak with me. she,” he pointed to the girl beside him, who had a stony expression, “is the head of the whole operation, so if you want to explain something to someone, you can do so with her.”

this was also something they were both used to, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. if only they knew they were actually talking to the owl, they’d probably kiss the her shoes.

the deal was over in 5 minutes, the majority of which was spent with the two of them counting the money, making sure every penny was in that briefcase. after confirming so, they barely said goodbye to that sexist prick, and went back to their car.

the drive to the motel was quiet, but not uncomfortably so: harry’s right hand took place on her left thigh as usual, while her arm was stretched behind his headrest, playing mindlessly with his curls, scratching his scalp lightly.

“hey, pretty boy.” she called, a soft smile on her lips.

harry smirked at the nickname, he couldn’t help it, “yes?”

“i really love you,” she softly said, taking her hand away from his hair and moving it to stroke his cheekbone, “you know that?”

harry couldn’t help but feel his tummy warm up at her words, his cheeks getting a bit flushed. “i do know, darling, but thank you for the reminder.” he snickered, “i love you too.” he said, and took his right hand off her leg to grab her hand, planting a soft kiss to her palm, and to every knuckle.

once they finally reached the motel, harry turned off the ignition and turned to face her. his hand took a hold of her jaw, and pressed a kiss against her pouty lips. she sighed into the kiss, a thing that drove harry absolutely crazy.

“what if-” she tried to talk, but was quickly interrupted by harry kissing her again, “we go to the room to-” another kiss, “put down our things and-”, yet another kiss, “then we have a drink at the bar?” she put her hand on harry’s chest to push him a bit further, or else she wouldn’t be able to finish the sentence. “if i’m not mistaken it’s right by the reception. sounds good?”

harry nodded, and to seal his agreement he kissed her once again.

after making their way down from their room into the motel bar, they sat down at the counter, harry’s hand on her back while she climbed on the stool.

the bar was definitely empty, just a couple of old men sat in the corner of the room, a deck of cards between them.

“two old fashioned, please.” harry asked the man behind the counter.

it was a sort of a tradition, getting that drink after a deal: the first time they did a deal together, he was the one suggesting going for a drink, which she — surprisingly to him — did not turn down. once they reached the pub nearby, she ordered an old fashioned, and asked harry what he wanted, to which he answered “the same”, and it became a tradition ever since then.

“oh wait-” she said all of a sudden, which made harry turn his head towards her.

“oh i’m sorry, did you want something else?” he asked, unsure of even his question, since she had never ordered something else.

she quickly shook her head, “no no, don’t worry, i just realized i forgot my phone in our room.” she stood from the stool, “i’m gonna go get it and i’ll be right back, alright?” after she spoke, she left a lingering kiss on his cheek.

harry hummed and with a little smile, he playfully said, “be quick, i’m gonna miss you.”

she returned his smile, and opened the motel bar door, “i’m gonna miss you too, pretty boy.”

harry didn’t think any of it after ten minutes, she probably got caught up on something online, or had to answer to an email right away and couldn’t wait.

he didn’t think any of it after twenty minutes, thinking she may have had a call to make and it was taking a bit longer than usual. he settled on shooting her a message, asking if she was fine. the message was left on delivered.

but after thirty minutes, he needed to check on her. what if she was sick and he was there waiting for her at the bar like an idiot? what if there was a problem and she needed his help, even if she would most likely never admit it?

he left some banknotes on the counter, and rushed his way upstairs.

once he stood in front of the door, his blood run cold: the door was ajar.

something was wrong, very wrong.

carefully, he pushed the door, reaching for his pocket knife; once it was open, his eyes darted around the room, looking for something out of place.

the thing is, it wasn’t that something was out of place, it was that something was missing: her bag, her clothes, her laptop, herself, they were all missing. there was no trace of her, as if she had never been there.

“what-” he rushed in, the door left slightly open behind him. he hastily opened the bathroom door, checking if maybe she was there, but, alas, she was not.

“what the fuck is going on?” harry muttered to himself, so confused that he was sure that his movements weren’t even making sense. his head kept turning from side to side, trying to find something, anything to help him understand what was going on.

he was never one to panic, always been a pretty clearheaded guy in every situation he’s found himself in, but not when his girl was involved, and especially when he was totally in the dark about what had happened.

his eyes finally zeroed in on a piece of paper on the desk.

of course, of course she’d be smart and leave him some sort of trace, so he could find her and get her back.

he stumbled on his steps, his legs wobbling as if made of jelly and with frantic fingers, he opened the piece of paper, which showed just four, short words.

mors tua, vita mea.

“wh-what, no-”, he rambled, shaking his head energetically, choosing not to believe the reality that was downing on him. “no, no, it can’t-” he kept chanting, over and over, but his rambling was cut short.

in his peripherals, he saw the red and blue lights bouncing off the dirty white walls of the motel room, the sound of the police car doors closing and of the steps of the officers coming up the stairs, but the sounds were almost muted, the shock making his ears ring.

the door was pushed open, three officers coming in first, guns blazing, while the others were surely waiting all around the motel, pointing their guns at him through the windows.

“put your hands up! over your head!”

harry robotically obliged, not in control of his body anymore.

“harry styles, you’re under arrest. you have the right to remain silent, anything you say…”.

he didn’t hear the rest of the miranda rights over the sound of the faith he had in her shattering, puncturing his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

—

18 months later.

“styles, you have a visitor.”

harry’s eyes opened at the voice of the guard, the ceiling of his cell staring back at him. those were words he didn’t get to hear often, only two other times, and both times it was always a nosy journalist wanting to write a story about a pretty successful art thief. he laid still, pondering whether to go or stay in his shoe box of a cell for the rest of the day.

“styles, get up. i don’t have all day.”

harry dragged his feet along the corridor, and once he arrived to the designated room, he headed towards the seat the officer pointed. once he sat down, he grabbed the black phone receiver, and didn’t even bother looking at the person standing in front of him, his eyes closed already in annoyance.

“look, if you’re another fucking journalist, i’m not gonna say a word to you, so you wasted your time coming here and i’m asking you to leave.”

the person in front of him hesitated, as he heard a shallow breathe on the other end of the receiver.

“hi, pretty boy.”

harry’s eyes had never opened so fast, and his heart skipped a beat.

no, no, this wasn’t real, this was just his mind playing tricks on him: stupid, fucking horrible and cruel tricks.

the voice didn’t match the exterior: the person in front of him had another haircut, a whole other hair colour, the eyes — the feature he most loved about her — covered by large sunglasses.

but he knew. he knew it was her: the way her lips were set in her natural pout, the shape of her face, the freckle she had at the right corner of her bottom lip.

the way his heart was going out of his chest trying to reach for her.

he was supposed to hate her — and he did, he so did — but the way his nickname fell from her lips lit up something in him, something that no matter how much he wanted it to be dormant, it was still there.

his brain could only manage to ask her the one question that nagged at him ever since that day.

“why.”

he stared at her through the glass, green tired eyes boring into her soul. she knew it was risky, showing up at a prison under yet another false identity, but she knew she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye one last time. one real last time.

so she swallowed harshly, and opened her mouth, keeping her answers short in order not to break down.

“think about the place where you first met me, harry.” she murmured, while his stony expression was staring back at her. “i had no other choice.”

harry chuckled darkly, a grin so deranged that she felt her blood run cold. this answer of hers opened the gate to all the hatred that had been boiling in him for 18 long months.

“that’s such bullshit, and you know it. you had a choice — you fucking did — and you made it. you chose to tip-off the police, you chose to leave your name out of every document, you chose to use a fake identity with me as well, and make it impossible to track you; you chose to pack your bags and steal the car, you chose to leave me behind and letting me take the blame for it.” his voice was laced with venom. “i spent 18 fucking months in this cell, with just one question running through my mind, all day, all night, every day: why did you choose to do this to me.”

“harry, i told you, i had-”

“bullshit!” he screamed, a prominent vein on his neck, while smashing his fist against the plastic glass, over and over again. “you ruined my fucking life, and you have the gall to give me that as the reason why you did it? tell me the truth! tell me the fucking truth! you owe me at least that.”

the volume of his voice and the violence he was hitting the glass with made her stand up and hang up the receiver, scrambling to get away from him before his actions brought too much attention on her as well. three officers had to come in to stop harry from smashing down the glass and jumping on the other side of the window, and had to drag him away whilst he was still fighting with all his strength, his legs kicking and arms flailing trying to be freed, his voice repeatedly shouting just one word, over and over: why.

nine days later, harry found himself moved to a facility of a higher security rank: his violent act during the visit wasn’t an isolated episode, and basically opened the door to a side of harry that he never knew. he never knew such anger in his life.

the guard guiding him stopped in front of the nth same looking cell.

“bradford, your new roomie is here.” the guard sarcastically said, making harry want to punch his face in, but unable to do so because of the cuffs on his wrists.

the man laying in the bunk barely scoffed and glanced at harry while he was walking into his new “home”.

once the guard went away, bradford turned to harry and looked him up and down, then returned to stare at the ceiling. harry could perhaps even manage to put up with the guy, if he always kept this quiet, but he felt like at least an introduction was to be done, to be the least civil. “‘m harry, harry styles. and you are?”

his new cellmate groaned softly while standing up, putting his legs down from the bunk.

“i’m bradford, chris bradford. and i know exactly who you are.”

harry was definitely dumbfounded, “what? how do you-?”

“your case was all over the news, even inmates got to know about it. but most of all, i know you because i’ve been you.”

harry’s confusion must’ve been displayed clearly on his face, because chris just scoffed and kept on talking.

“we’ve been framed by the same person." he murmured, "and we’re gonna take her down together.”

—

the latin phrase mors tua vita mea, of medieval origin, means “your death, my life” (or: “your death (is) my life”).

beyond the dramatic tone of the literal sense, this expression is used when within a competition or in the attempt to reach a goal there can be only one winner: the saying indicates that the failure of one is an indispensable prerequisite for the success of another.

—

taglist: @a-strange-familiar @stilesissaved @harrysonlylover @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kittenhere @neverstaisfied

–

please, let me know what you think and please, please reblog! thank you so much for being here, it means the world <3 also, just a little fyi, there's no plan for a part 2!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #getaway car #harry styles x you #my writing #harry styles story #harry styles imagine

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angelltheninth · 3 months

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Sweet! I kind of jumped to conclusions there, sorry. Can I please request breast worship with Ambessa, Cassandra, Grayson, and Sevika (with them receiving)? Thanks ♥️

I'm sorry your first ask got yoinked. It happens sometimes, which is a bit annoying cause I get some really good asks here.

Pairing: Sevika, Cassandra, Grayson, Ambessa x Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, breast worship, thigh riding, kissing, teasing, strap-on

A/N: I just realized Arcane s2 comes out in November. Good luck.

Sevika wants you on her strap if you plan on doing breast worship to her. Absolutely won't let you move on it however, you're the one who wanted to make her feel good so you should do it like this.

Keeps both her hands on your thighs so you don't even think about riding her strap until you make her nipples hard. You're not free to move from one to the other without her saying so. It was you who wanted this, and she's the one getting all the pleasure, but she'll still make sure you know that even when you're the one making her feel good and moan, she's the one in charge.

"There's no problem with you wanting to make me feel good, sweet thing. I've seen you staring at these before, but I've also seen you staring between my legs while I walked. I'll gladly give you both. Make sure to keep your focus and make me come."

Cassandra melts against the pillows of her bed when you get on top of her and start kissing her breasts. She's sighing, squirming, but still keeping you close to her, having missed your warmth.

She doesn't get to enjoy longer, slower sessions with you like this, being pretty busy with Council work most of the day. That's why you want to help her unwind, she doesn't have to think about anything, you'll take care of her. It surprises her when you pay special attention to her breasts but she's not opposed to it. As long as you don't bite her you can keep your mouth there.

"Have you always been this affectionate towards my chest or is this a new development with you darling? Because I must say I haven't seen you giving them this much attention in a while. Don't be too rough with those teeth, no one will see but I'd still feel your bite."

Grayson normally wouldn't think it was a big deal that you're offering her a massage but she soon finds that it wasn't the innocent kind. Almost as soon as she said her shoulders feel better you reached to her front and cupped her breasts.

There's no use denying it feels nice because of course having your hands on her body feels like nothing short of bliss. Feeling you rub from the underside of her breasts, to the top, then gently squeezing them close together has her back arching into your skilled hands. At this rate she won't even have to take her pants off t finish.

"I should have suspected you were up to something, sweetheart. Stop? Don't you dare. You need to make sure I'm fully relaxed, keep those hands right where they are. Ha, soft? Well that might be the only part of me that's always been soft, but thank you."

Ambessa feels like it's only right for you to worship every part of her. For tonight you chose to focus on her tits and she wasn't gonna say no, she was gonna keep you in her lap to give you something to grind on.

She can feel you making a mess on her thigh, your hips bucking as you moaned desperately enough her nipple and pinched the other. Her strong arms kept you close, completely encircling you. As you moved to the other nipple she brought you into a quick kiss, telling you what a good job you're doing.

"You're gonna make me all sensitive. How am I supposed to put my armor on tomorrow huh beautiful? More importantly, how are you supposed to talk when your mouth is doing so much work? It's good work, but once you're done you're gonna shut up and let me take over."

#arcane x reader #cassandra x reader #grayson x reader #ambessa x reader #arcane imagines #arcane headcanon #arcane smut #arcane x you #league of legends x reader #league of legends imagine #league of legends headcanons #league of legends x you

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familyvideostevie · 2 years

Text

𝕟𝕠 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣

a farmer's market steve harrington x reader au

part 1 [7.2k] | part 2 [8.3k] | part 3 [13.3k] | part 4 [4.7k] | au masterlist

Every day you wake up and wonder if today is the day you'll cry. It hurts to look at the blank walls of your bedroom and the small pile of things on your dresser you were going to put up: the drive-in ticket, a polaroid Jonathan took of you at the New-Bee's stall, a candle label from your first batch. Does it even matter now?

But the tears don't come. So you decide to push on the bruise in your chest, the ache that has returned full force but worse. It's in the shape of Steve.

You think about the first time you saw him, how you wanted him to touch you so badly even though he made you so mad. You think about him in the rainstorm, wet and willing to help you, you think about him under you at the drive-in, hands eager and rough. You think about him on top of you in his bed, gentle and tender as he panted your name.

And you've ruined it all. You've ruined whatever was between you, that glowing, beautiful thing, and you've hurt him in the process. Which is the thing you can't forgive yourself for.

You're eating breakfast in the farmhouse kitchen the morning of the first November market. Bob knows you're not coming -- you told him you weren't feeling great and he totally understands. You've worked hard the last few months and he knows it. He also knows that something is wrong, that Halloween changed something. That the phone call with Steve was about much more than just you getting home safely.

"Hey, kiddo," he says, packing his lunch before he leaves for the market. "Have you thought about what you want to do after the last market next week?" It's hard to believe that there really is only one more week in the season. The leaves are almost all gone and you can smell winter in the air.

You swirl your spoon in your oatmeal and don't look at him. "I'm not sure yet," you sigh. A call home last week hadn't helped, though it did convince you that the last thing you want is to move back in with your parents. "Mom says it's up to me."

"Well," he says, dragging out the word. "You're welcome to stay here and keep working on the farm. We've got lots of things to make for the holidays. Or you can get a job in town!" You don't realize that you never thought Bob would want you to stay until the words leave his mouth. But how silly of you to think that he'd be anything but kind to you, even if you're not contributing to his business. "Point is," he continues, "you can stay here as long as you want."

For a long second your heart considers it. Staying in Hawkins, making it your home. Regardless of your current circumstances.

Which you need to figure out. Regardless of how you feel and how Steve feels, you owe him an apology at the very least.

But you're not feeling very brave yet, so you call Sara's Farm while the market is going on, hoping no one will be there and you can just leave a message.

The dial tone only rings once before a sweet voice answers. "Sara's Farm, this is Jane, how can I help you?"

"Hi, El," you say. She gasps your name in delight, then says it once more in a tone you like much less. Did Steve tell anyone what you did? That you left him?

"Why aren't you at the market?" she asks. "Are you okay?" Her automatic concern washes away your own.

"Don't worry about me," you say.

"I do! Steve said you got sick on Halloween and had to go home. Are you still sick?" She doesn't totally believe you, you can tell. A lump rises in your throat. He's kept your business between you both. It makes your heart do something funny in your chest.

"I feel better," you lie. "Can you tell Steve that I called? That I want to talk to him?"

El pauses before she answers. "Do you think you're gonna figure it out? Whatever happened?" Smart girl, you think.

"I hope so," you tell her. She says your name again, this time sounding like a scold.

"Good, because you both are much more fun when you're happy together." That, more than anything in the last few days makes tears prick in your eyes.

And maybe that's why you burst into tears when someone knocks on the farmhouse door and you see that it's Robin. You can barely speak when she spills into the kitchen, cheeks rosy despite her hat, gloves, and at least four layers.

"So you are alive!" she says, and then realizes you're basically sobbing. "Oh, god. Wait, let me just --" She toes off her shoes and drops her gloves and outermost jacket on the ground before she opens her arms. "Okay. Do you want a hug?" You step into her embrace before she's finished asking. Her hands rub up and down your back in a slightly awkward way that's all Robin.

"Sorry," you hiccup. "This is embarrassing. I don't know why I'm crying." That much is true. There are so many things you're feeling that you don't know which ones you're upset about at this moment.

"I'm not good with crying girls," she says as you both sway side to side in your hug. "Crying anyone, really. I just never know what to say! But I do know that you have nothing to be sorry about. You can cry all you want. It's great for your skin! Well, I don't actually know that but Nancy told me once. And, well, you know Nancy. If she says it it's probably true, right?" You huff, throat thick but eyes starting to dry. You wiggle out of her arms and turn to wipe your face.

"Do you want something to drink?" you ask her. "How was the market?" Ever adaptable to a change of subject, Robin sits at the kitchen table as you fill a glass of water without waiting for her answer.

"It was...boring without you," she says slowly. "Strange, too. Bob told people you didn't feel great so I thought I'd come check on you."

You hum and sniff a little. You must look like a wreck from crying. "I, uh..." You can't look at her.

"I know something happened." She sighs. "Steve didn't tell me what but I figure you guys had a fight or something? And look, he's my best friend but you're both my friends and I don't want to get in the middle of it but I do care that you're both miserable."

You turn around and she's looking at you with such kindness, such warmth, that you have to swallow another round of tears. "We didn't fight," you tell her. "The opposite, really. But I messed it up and hurt him because I'm scared."

"Kinda looks like you hurt yourself, too," she says, not unkindly. "Is it something...you want to fix?"

"I don't know if I can." You scrub at your swollen eyes with cold hands. "But even if he can't forgive me I need to explain myself and apologize. And then..." you trail off.

"And then?" she asks. "I know you have a lot going on so I wasn't going to ask but there's only one market left and...do you know if you're gonna stay here? In Hawkins?"

You don't answer right away and Robin squirms in her seat but lets to think about it. Because a not small part of you wants to tell her that yes, you'll stay. You want to. You love it here. But things are a mess right now and it doesn't feel fair to make the choice before you've talked to Steve.

"I don't know," you finally say. 'I don't know how staying would work. It might be better just to leave. Easier." The words taste wrong in your mouth but you can't take them back.

Robin's chair scrapes on the hardwood as she gets up and walks around the table to stand in front of you. "One thing at a time, then, right? And you'll tell me when you decide?" You grab her hand.

"Of course, I will. I just have to talk to Steve first."

___

It takes you three days to work up the courage to call Sara's again. Hopper picks up.

"Sara's," he says gruffly.

"Uh, hi, it's --" He sighs before you can finish your sentence.

"Harrington!" he yells, though it's muffled as if he covered the receiver with his hand. Your stomach flips. "What do you mean who is it? Who else calls around here looking for you?" You can't hear Steve, and then Hopper's back on the line.

"I don't think I want to know why he won't talk to you," he says. This time, your stomach feels like a lead weight.

"That's fine," you rush out. "Can you give him a message for me? Uh, Hopper, sir?"

"Jesus Christ," he says. "I guess I don't have a choice. He looks like a kicked puppy."

"Tell him to meet me at the lake tonight, if he can? Where we had the bonfire? 8 pm?" You try to keep the pleading out of your voice but you must fail because Hopper's next words are almost kind.

"Sure, kid. I'll tell him." The phone clicks and you hear the dial tone.

You don't really expect him to show up. It's freezing, cold enough that you're sitting in the cab of the truck with the heat on while you wait in the dark. The remains of your bonfire from weeks ago sit in the fire pit, the ash and charred logs illuminated by your headlights. Why did you think this was a good idea? Steve has no reason to hear you out. He has every right to never speak you to again, no matter how awful that would be.

But then you hear it -- the rumble of a truck, headlights bright on the shore next to yours. Before the lights in the cab go out you can see Steve take a deep breath. He opens the door and walks quickly through the cold, his breath puffing in front of him, to your passenger door. You have to force yourself to keep your own inhales even at the sight of him. Your entire body feels like it's aching as he climbs in next to you. He feels miles away.

"Hey," he says. He clears his throat and doesn't look at you for longer than a quick glance up and down. "Are you okay? You weren't at the market on Saturday."

"I'm fine," you say, the lie now familiar in your mouth. "Are you okay?" You don't know what possesses you to ask. He looks fine, if a little cold. Same warm eyes, if a bit wary, messy hair pushed into his hat haphazardly. He looks pretty as always.

"Honestly?" You nod, though he's not looking at you. "Not really."

"Steve--" you start, but he interrupts you.

"I wasn't going to come," he says, then shakes his head. "No, sorry, that's not true. I've been jumping every time the phone rings for almost a week, hoping it's you. But I can't bring myself to answer it. I've been desperate to see you again but I also can't look at you because it makes me sad."

"Sad?" you whisper.

"Because I don't understand what happened. And I want to fix it, but I also want to be mad at you. And I can't figure out how to do either."

He doesn't say anything else and you take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Steve," you say. You've said the words out loud to yourself hundreds of times by now and they taste funny in your mouth. Like missed opportunity. Like your own mistakes.

"Can I ask why?" he says, finally turning to look at you head-on. "Why you left?"

"I--yeah. Yeah, of course. I want to explain myself. I owe you that." How do you do this without telling him you love him? Without sounding like you're trying to manipulate him into forgiving you? Because that's the last thing you want to do. "I hope I don't need to tell you that it's nothing you did," you say. "It's all me. And I know that sounds like it's not you, it's me but that's the truth. It's me. I-- I freaked out. I freaked out because you have changed my entire life, Steve. You've turned it upside down and made me love a place I didn't feel right in at first and you-- you are good and kind and everything wonderful about this town." You've kept your eyes on your hands clenched tight in your lap but you look up at him then. His gaze is steady, brows furrowed. "And I...god, Steve. I don't want this to sound like I'm guilting you or anything because it's only been a few months but that night I realized that I'm falling in love with you and it's scaring the shit out of me."

You're looking at him as you say it, so you see that he doesn't react even a little bit. It makes your chest tighten, but you push that down. It's not about if he loves you or not. It's about apologizing.

"I understand how that's scary," he says carefully. His own hands are shoved in his pockets. You wonder if he's clenched them into fists. "I just don't know why you'd leave instead of telling me how you were feeling."

"I wish I could take that back."

He looks away again. "Do you regret everything else, too? Having sex? Everything before?"

"God, no," you breathe out. "No, Steve. I don't regret any of that." You want to touch him but you know you shouldn't. It wouldn't help anything.

"Do you get why you leaving like that hurt?" he asks. "Why the last thing I expected to come back to was an empty bed?" You chew on your lip as he keeps talking. "Because I thought we had figured that out. The whole...not talking to each other bullshit. Dealing with our emotions unfairly, being too hasty and hurtful. You helped me learn how to do that and I tried for you."

There's nothing to say. Other than the truth. "I know, and I'm sorry," you tell him. "I freaked out and I hurt you and that was the last thing I wanted to do. And I understand if you can't forgive me--"

"I didn't say that," he interrupts, tone a hair from desperate. The first real emotion you've heard from him other than frustration. "I just need some space, I think. Okay?" He lifts his hand in the air and it seems to hover in the space between you before he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. You inhale raggedly.

"Okay," you say. He smiles but it's sad and climbs out of your truck and back into his, driving into the night with a little wave.

You sit in silence for a few seconds before hot tears trickle down your cheeks. But this time, they're of relief. Because he doesn't hate you. Because he might forgive you, someday. Your chest aches but just for a moment, you let yourself feel all of it: the overwhelming sensation of being in love with Steve. It washes over you and all you want is for him to be happy.

Maybe when you tell him you're going to stay in Hawkins he'll even be glad about it. He cares about you, no one can deny that. And maybe, maybe he can love you.

___

After you talk with Steve you allow yourself to lean into preparing for the last market. You barely leave the farm because you make as many candles and soaps as you can. You wander into the farmhouse after finishing your latest batch of candles -- Steve's candles, as you call them in your head -- to find a fairly large size wicker basket on the counter.

"What's this?" you ask Bob. He's tying string onto honey jars.

"I was hoping you could tell me," he smiles. The basket contains an odd collection of stuff, all from local businesses. A small bouquet from Byers Flowers, a bag of mushrooms from Rick's, some jam from Sara's. A tiny pumpkin with a face drawn on it and even one of your own candles.

"Lucas Sinclair and Will Byers biked that over and dropped it off. Said it was for you." He points to the card you'd missed before that's nestled behind. the flowers.

We hope this humble offering helps convince you to stay in Hawkins!

It's written in a steady hand you know to be Will's and signed by every kid individually: Will, Dustin, Max, Lucas, Mike, and El.

"Wow," you whisper. "I guess the rumor mill has started."

"I've heard that you might be leaving," Bob says. "Not sure where that came from." Robin, you think. Your darling friend might have gotten ahead of herself. "We don't have to talk about it, but have you thought any more about what you want to do?"

You don't hesitate, eyes on the card in your hand. "I want to stay."

The final market is the busiest Saturday you've seen, even though it's practically freezing. The November chill worms its way under your three layers, hat, and gloves. You should have worn two pairs of pants. There is laughter and your candles fly off the stand. There's a stand of hot cider somewhere that smells delightful.

And the weirdest thing keeps happening. People keep stopping you to say that they don't want you to leave town, and then when you tell them you aren't going to, they're so relieved. You've had the same conversation with so many customers that you've lost count. It really is a small town, you think. Your small town.

"Hey!" Eddie bounds over to your stall as the market is about to end, curls shoved into a black beanie with a pom-pom on top. He looks to be wearing at least three flannels under his leather jacket. "I heard you're leaving?" He looks pretty down about it, too. "I'd have brought you some mushrooms but I know you don't like them."

"Where did everyone get this idea that I'm leaving?" you huff. "I only told Robin that was still trying to decide--" Eddie scrunches up his nose and grimaces. "Did she tell you I was leaving?"

"Welllll..." he drags out. "She might have hinted that she thought you were going to and I think the story got out somehow." Then he brightens. "So you're not leaving?"

You smile, allowing the happiness of your choice to fill you for just a second. "I'm sticking around," you tell him. He whoops far too loudly.

"Thank Christ," he says. "Otherwise we'd have to deal with a sad Harrington forever." You look at your feet. "Oh, come on," he says. "You haven't made up yet?"

"How do you know about that?" you mumble, eyes still on the ground.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says. "Anyone can tell just by looking at Steve that he's down as hell. And he won't tell anyone why."

"I--" You want to ask him more, ask him what he's talked to Steve about, ask him if he's seen Steve today since you haven't, but before you can Robin runs over.

"You're staying?" she pants. "I heard it from Vickie who heard it from Brenda who heard it from her mom who heard it from you. I thought you were going! I told people you were going!" The memory of you crying in her arms flashes in your mind. Maybe it's not so outrageous that she got the impression you wanted to leave Hawkins.

"Well, here I am," you say. "If you'll have me."

"Fuck yeah we'll have you," Robin cries, grabbing your hands over the stall counter. A few people shoot her dirty looks for her language but she doesn't notice. "Oh my god, we're going to have so much fun. You have to come visit me at school, and we'll do Friendsgiving, and New Year's Eve, and --"

She prattles on about all the things you're going to do, and you can't fight your smile. But there's a lingering barb in your chest because you still have to tell Steve. Have to see if he's forgiven you if he ever will. If he's okay with you sticking around, regardless.

You want to ask Robin about him but you don't. He'll come to you if he wants to since he's the one who wants space and you want to respect that. But it would be nice to see him here, at the place where you met. The place where it all started.

So after your friends wander away with a bounce in their steps, you soak in the last moments of your last market for this year. Vendors wave at you on their way out and you pack up as slowly as you can, stretching out the task as long as possible. And to see if Steve will come say hi after all. He must have hid in the Sara's tent all morning.

You're careful with the candles, eyes on the fading line on your palm. The giddiness of that day in the rain with Steve is a fond memory, even if it makes the ache more profound. His smile, his laugh, his gentle hands. Hands you hope to hold again. The crates are all done and you take a deep breath and tell yourself you have to bring them to the truck when you feel a prickle on the back of your neck. You look up and --

There he is. He looks frazzled, no hat or gloves despite the cold, cheeks and nose pink, and hair a riot. He walks towards you with determined steps, stopping a few feet away.

"Hi," you breathe. "Hey, Steve," you say again, louder. It's like you willed him to come over here.

"Uh, hi," he says, dragging one hand through his hair and shoving the other into the pocket of his jacket. "Sorry I didn't come over earlier. It's been really busy today and -- well." He sucks on his teeth and looks at the sky. "Listen, I heard some stuff today and I don't know what's true and I know I asked for space but I had to come ask you because --" He takes a breath. It's unlike him to ramble like this, you think. It's endearing. "Are you staying in Hawkins or are you leaving?" he asks.

You blink. "Oh," you say. The rumors must have gotten to him and Robin hasn't set him right yet. "Yeah, that. Uh, well, first I just want to say I'm sorry again and I hope that the space is good for you." You clear your throat, swallowing the lump. "I want to fix things between us, whatever that looks like, but only if you want to. And I don't want to rush you, but --"

Steve takes a step towards you and your voice stops working for a second, long enough for him to start talking again. "Sorry, but before you go on and tell me you're leaving I just...please don't let it be because of me." He takes a hand from his pocket like he wants to reach for you but balls it into a fist instead. "If you want to leave I don't want to stop you because you have to do what's right for you and I know I asked for space but I don't think I want that and I should have just told you before." He takes a deep breath.

"Told me what, Steve?" you ask so softly you don't know if he hears you. He runs his hands through his hair again. He takes another step forward, so close that the tips of your shoes almost touch. His eyes are warm and bright when they meet yours.

"I'm in love with you. I love you. I don't know if you meant it by the lake and that's okay but I mean it now. It's soon and it's scary and I don't know what to do about it or where it'll take us but I just have to tell you so you know because...you can't leave without at least knowing that I do. You can't leave thinking I won't forgive you." He laughs a little to himself and takes half a step back. "And we need to work on our communication, especially if you leave, but I just want you whatever way I can have you--"

"Steve," you croak. It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. He loves you.

He blinks a few times, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Oh, sorry," he says. "Keep going with what you were saying."

Your thoughts are gibberish inside your head. All you can think is how badly you want to hold this boy in front of you. "Steve," you say again. He looks more worried this time, but before he can say anything you throw yourself at him, arms around his neck and chin hooked over his shoulder. He's quick to pull his hands out of his coat to wrap his arms around you and you feel his cold nose on the skin of your neck.

"I'm staying," you say into his shoulder. "I'm not leaving."

He pulls away just enough to see you, noses almost touching. "Did I hear that right? You're staying?"

"Yeah," you nod. "I want to stay. I love this town and the people in it and it's home now. And I, uh, want to figure us out. If you want to." You are embarrassed to feel your lashes grow wet. Steve brings his hands between you and blows on them before he gently frames your face.

"Did you think I'd not want to?" His thumbs stroke your cheeks. "I can say that whole speech again."

"No," you say, leaning into his palms. "I did think maybe you'd tell me not to stay. When we were at the lake. So I didn't bring it up." His face does something funny before he touches his forehead to yours.

"I will never tell you to go because I want you here, wherever here is. I just want you with me." You want to pull him into your chest, to show him how your heart has his name on it.

"I still don't know what I want, Steve," you whisper. "I want to stay here but I don't know how long that'll last. I'm not sure of anything but I'm sure about you. I'm sure that I love you."

"We can figure it out," he says, mouth curling into a smile. His eyes shine bright at your words. You both know that you have a lot of work to do -- learning how to communicate better, how to love each other right, how to deal with your own wounds and insecurities and feelings. There is growing to do. But you can do it together.

"Okay," you nod. Your noses brush. Maybe it is that easy. Just deciding what you want and seeing it in front of you and taking it. Calling it yours, holding it close. All of the hard stuff has led to this and maybe it was all worth it to get to this point -- the fighting and the misunderstandings and all of the kisses and the ache in your chest that you now know is just love. It's love with all its aches and pains and it's worth it.

"Can we kiss now, please?" he asks you. His breath is hot on your skin, visible in the space between you.

"Yes, please."

The press of his lips to yours is delicate, soft. It's loving. His thumbs stroke your face lazily and you grab his forearms gently, feeling the strength and the warmth of him through his layers. All Steve, you think. All yours. It's like he's thinking the same thing because his mouth curls into a smile against yours and you're not so much kissing as grinning against each other but it's exactly what you want. It's Steve. It's home.

THE END.

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete @lonelywidow @actual-mom-steve-harrington @steveharringtonscarkeys @pennyllanne @ducky-is-dead-inside @ih3artcry1ng @escape-in-time-x @sea040561 @manyfandomsfanvergent @blandyton @liberhoe @annaisweird @mrs-dr-reid @toomanyacorns @darlingoctober @selfdeprecatingnerd @dullsocietyy @keep-drivng @shireentapestry @mintfrostflower @freezaz123 @dahliamae @localbnbg @palmtreesx3 @eddiethesexy

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #no good at waiting

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jades-typurriter · 2 months

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Cherry Pops Under The Hood

This piece was my half of an art trade with @ricecreamart back in November 2023, starring her cast of OCs. She also did all the illustrations for this after the fact—if you're as much of a fan of plushie and mechanical stuff as I am (which, if you're one of my followers, there's a good chance), you should have a look at her work!!

The apartment was filled with all its usual signs of activity. The air inside was chilly—this deep into fall, the leaves had long since fallen and winter was beginning to butt in early. Ada hadn’t actually had to run her cooling fans in a long while, since it was cold enough even inside that her processors could be passively cooled, but she set them on low anyway. Her employers, Cherry and Nutmeg, appreciated any little bit of heat they could get, even the paltry amount that her system kicked out when she was just going about her business.

The two of them were seated at the kitchen table, snouts basking in the rising steam above their drinks. Ada relished in the mingling scents of Nutmeg’s tea and Cherry’s hot chocolate, and listened as the two of them bickered and bantered. Also as usual, Cherry was on the back foot in their flirty little playfight. Ada glanced over and saw all the tells that she was gonna be the first to get flustered: her eyes narrowed to help keep her face steady, her stubborn smile as though she was taking all of Nutmeg’s pokes and innuendos in good humor.

She smiled to herself and continued through the room, carrying a fresh load of laundry (and trying her best not to bury her face in the warm, soft fabric, another favorite new sensation of hers). She walked carefully—some component in her leg had failed recently, and the bundle of clothes was obscuring the ground in front of her feet. Though she tried to keep her gait straight, she could hear her own footsteps falling unevenly, heavy under her metal frame in spite of her padded exterior: thump-pmfsshh, thump-pmfsshh, thump-pmfsshh. One of Cherry’s ears flicked toward her and, grateful for the opportunity to retreat from Nutmeg’s teasing, she piped up.

“Hey, are you good, Ada? It sounds like one of your legs is dragging.”

“Yeah, uh…” she mumbled, her brows furrowing. “That’s a bit worse than I thought it was, actually… Here, lemme just set this down.” She dumped the clothes onto a nearby chair and, once again watching her step, ambled over to the table.

“‘ve you been having this problem long?” Cherry asked, resting her arm over the back of her chair to better face the housekeeper.

“You didn’t have to come in if you weren’t feeling well, you know,” Nutmeg added, setting her drink aside.

“Oh, I know, I just,” Ada hemmed, “I already have an appointment with the engineers that built this body for me, and y’know, they’re pretty busy… I figured, as long as I could watch where I was going, it wouldn’t be that much of a problem in the meantime.”

“Do you mind if I ask what’s wrong?” Cherry tilted her head. Ada had seen the expression before, on the number of occasions where she’d watched her fixing things up for other people—there was concern layered over it, but her interest was piqued.

“I think it’s a severed cable, the one that leads from my central nervous system to my knee. Or, maybe disconnected. I hope it’s not severed, uh. It could always be replaced, but it’d be much more of a hassle to have the whole cord unfastened and removed, and, y’know, it’s better to just not get damaged in the first place. Uh—”

“Do you want me to take a look at that for you?”

“Um.” Ada hesitated. Her fans, subtly, spun up. She hadn’t been examined by anybody besides the doctors and mechanics that had put her in her new body. For how many times they checked and double-checked her, from tip to tail and from paw to prow, that she’d be used to having someone poking around in her body, but… The last check-up had been months and months ago, before they were confident they could let her live on her own after the transition.

Plus, they were doctors, and it would feel… it would feel very different to have her friend get so close to her. Other than a doctor, it would actually be the first time anyone had gotten so close. But she had spent a good deal of time with Cherry since moving here, and she’d seen firsthand how good she was with her tools… Her fans spun yet faster; it occurred to her that they were becoming audible. Nutmeg’s eyes flicked between the two of them, which Cherry didn’t notice, but made Ada realize how long she’d been trying to think of what to say.

“Sure?” Okay, maybe she should have spent longer thinking about it. Nutmeg’s eyebrow jumped a full inch. “BUT, uh, c-ould we maybe? Do that in private? It feels a little… I don’t know, embarrassing. To have to strip and everything.”

“Oh, well, yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t ask you to get naked in the middle of the living room! C’mon, we can just do it in the den, you already know where my setup is.” She hopped out of her chair and, casually as anything, sauntered over to the den to wait for Ada to strip down to bare metal for her. Ada glanced back at Nutmeg; the wry smile she wore when she’d been pushing Cherry’s buttons was halfway back on her face—or maybe just half-concealed.

“You’ll be in good paws, sweetie,” she assured Ada, doing absolutely nothing to settle her nerves. Her wires. Whatever. “Do you need me to help you walk over there?”

“N-no, that’ll be—I’ll be fine, I just have to be careful. But thank you! Thank you, um,” she stuttered, eventually opting to just follow Cherry after realizing she wasn’t going to get any less awkward under the tanuki’s gaze. When she walked into the den, Cherry glanced over her shoulder.

“Just go ahead and get comfortable up here,” she said, patting a spot on the table. As she went back to rooting through toolboxes, she continued. “You said it was your knee, right? So you shouldn’t actually have to strip down. I promise I’m not gonna, like, look up your skirt.”

“Well, no, but—It’s not the c-clothes I’m worried about—well, I guess I’m worried about the clothes, too, um. Okay, just, you’ll see.” She turned away from Cherry—not that she was even looking. Gosh, why did this worry her so much?—and bent down to reach under her skirt. She fumbled for a moment before her paw found a zipper; she pulled gently, working it around the circumference of her hip joint, and began to roll down the now-freed fabric casing that sat over her metal frame. When it was about halfway down her calf, leaving her thigh and knee bare, she padded over next to Cherry and sat down on the table.

“Alright, are you—oh,” Cherry interrupted herself, finally looking over from her tools and seeing the exposed mechanisms. “Ohhh, I see, okay. My bad,” she apologized, rubbing the back of her neck. “When you said you had to strip, I thought you meant… your clothes. I forgot the fuzzy bits are separate, haha.”

“Oh, t-thats, totally fine,” Ada managed, unable to look Cherry in the eyes.

“I think I just, consider it… like, it’s your face, right? It’s like if you were trying to think of my skin as a separate entity from the rest of me. When I think of ‘Ada’, that’s just, what you look like.” Ada finally turned her head, just about at eye level with Cherry from her seated position. Their eyes lingered on each other for a moment; Cherry’s expression was still somewhat sheepish after the little misunderstanding, and something flickered behind Ada’s eyes that approached doubtfulness. Disbelief. Then a little smile broke on her face, and there was something very soft in them instead, softer even than her plush exterior.

“That… means a lot to hear, actually,” she half-whispered, her eyes drifting downward. “Sometimes I still have to remind myself of it, but you’re right. This is me. It’s just, it’s almost a pleasant surprise every time I re-realize it, y’know? Like it’s too good to be true.”

“Oh, god, do I understand that,” Cherry chuckled, shoulders relaxing in the mercifully-broken tension. But hey,” she said, drawing their eyes back together. “you kinda get used to it after a while. Not in a way where it stops being fun, though!. Like, you still wake up some days, and it’s like it’s Christmas, but it doesn’t shock you like you’d lost track of the date, right? You still get to be you—it’s still awesome every time you remember ‘dude, this is your life now’—but you don’t forget that you’re you in the meantime. Y’know?”

“I can imagine. I get closer every day, I think. Physical… snags, like this one, remind me a lot of how things were before, but… I guess I have you for that now, right?”

“Right!” Cherry slapped a fist down into her open palm. “We’re gonna get you good as new in no time. You ready?”

“I-I think I am! Uh—” she stammered, pressing down her skirt between her legs. “Okay, now I’m ready!” Cherry giggled, then looked at her lap and back up at her.

“...Do your clothes even come off?”

“Sure! If. You take the rest of me off, too.” They stared at each other for another half a breath and cracked up again. That’s bedside fuckin’ manner, babey!! Cherry was doing a kickass job at this robot doctor thing already. She kneeled down, still giggling, to get a closer look at the laggy limb.

“Woooahh,” she mused, face-to-face with Ada’s bare knee. Her eyes were wide and sparkling like the robot had shone a little red laser dot on the floor in front of her. “Oh my god, Ada. I know we were just talking about how cool it is to be you, like, with a capital B and Y, but you really are an amazing piece of work!” She gushed for a minute straight about the suspension, a thick spring coiled around Ada’s stand-in for a tibia and fibula, which Cherry could see extending down the remainder of her leg underneath the metal sheath and the remaining fabric cover; that was to say nothing of the hydraulic struts that extended behind and above her knee, powering her locomotion.

“I kind of don’t want to touch anything there… at least, not if we can help it. I’m not gonna say I couldn’t do it—I’m pretty good, y’know,” she added with a flicked ear and a raised eyebrow. “Buuut, it’d definitely be more complicated to fix than a connection issue would, so let’s look around for that first, right?”

“Sure, sure. It should be higher up in my thigh. Thhhhhhat panel,” she recalled after some deliberation, pointing to a plate of metal on the inside of her leg, “should come off.” Cherry produced a screwdriver from her pool of tools and dutifully levered the compartment open, finding… well, it was much cleaner than she’d expected.

“Huh. I guess I gotta give ‘em points for wire management? I can see a couple other big cables running through here, but they’re all on the other side. This one seems to be the only one that runs to the upper leg. Kinda seems like putting all your eggs in one basket, though… If something happens with this wire, poof! There goes your whole thigh.”

“Just like now,” Ada sighed.

“Why would they do it like that?”

“It’s supposed to be like the femoral artery,” she huffed. “If you ask me, the human body is the last thing to be taking design inspiration from, but the engineers liked how tidy it was, and the doctors thought I was complicated enough as it was. They agreed that mirroring the bigger anatomical landmarks would make it so a non-specialist doctor could at least try to treat me.”

“Who the hell studies medicine and engineering?” Cherry muttered, peering further down into Ada’s chassis. “I can see it all the way to the end, though. Like, with a plug and everything still attached. It must’ve just come loose, so all I gotta do is—”

“NyaaAAAA—” Ada squealed. Her paws flew to her mouth; her fans revved full-force. Cherry’s claw had barely grazed the cable, but it felt like she had just rubbed her paw all the way along the inside of her thigh.

“Ah!! Did that hurt? Are you okay?” She looked up at Ada and saw the flustered expression half-hidden behind her paws. She felt a rush of air from the opening to the inside of Ada’s furry casing and realized that she was burning up. “...Oh.”

“I-I’m. Yeah, f-fine,” the mortified android managed, squeezing her eyes shut. “It was just, um. Sensitive. Sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s no problem!! I should’ve looked a little bit more before leaping, I guess. I’m just,” she finished, bowing her own head again to hide the blush spreading across her own cheeks, “glad you’re alright. Lemme try it with some pliers instead—I’ll be more gentle this time.” She fished out a needle-nosed pair and, gripping the bundle of wire just beneath the plug, slowly finagled it into the socket.

Cherry instructed Ada to flex her knee; she could, just fine. She asked her to extend it, and she did, no problem! She rolled her ankle around next, even though it wasn’t originally the problem, just to make sure Cherry hadn’t accidentally knocked anything else loose while she was down there. She slowly snapped the panel back into place—this time, Ada had braced herself, and though she couldn’t look Cherry in the eye while she was working down there, she barely made a peep this time. They finally emerged from the den, Cherry holding the door open so Ada could make sure she could get around without difficulty again, and were met with Nutmeg eyeing the two of them over her mug.

“Did something go wrong?” She asked, voice full of exaggerated concern—after all, Ada was walking just fine.

“In my workshop?" Cherry gloated. "C'mon. It was just a loose cable. You’ll make sure not to flex your leg too far in the future, right, Ada?”

“Right!”

“Oh, good!” Nutmeg continued. “So, if you didn’t make a mistake in there, I assume you meant to make her squeak like that?” she asked, taking a slow sip of her tea and staring Cherry dead in the eye.

“Y’know,” she forced out, putting her best poker face back on. “I think I’m gonna take Ada to the park, just to put her through her paces. Doesn’t that sound nice, Ada?”

“Huh? I wasn’t done cleani—”

“Awesome! We’ll be back in a bit, Meg,” she growled, nearly shoving the girl out the door in front of her.

It wasn’t long before Cherry realized that she’d escaped from Nutmeg’s coolheaded quips without thinking to take a sweater—she’d jumped out of the fridge and into the freezer, with the way the weather had been recently. Ada offered to turn her fans up, and Cherry stayed nice and close to her (which was very, very easy, with how soft her exterior was). While the two of them walked laps to keep their servos warm and their blood circulating, they talked about all kinds of things. A simple “you mentioned ‘how things were before’” turned into swapping backstories: how Cherry got into tinkering with machines, how Ada got into a machine.

Of course, they had plenty of common ground, from the realization that things could be different, and the freedom that came with it, to the malaise that it had freed them from. Cherry managed to keep things light; like she’d said earlier, things only went uphill from the start of journies like theirs, and she was rarely without a crack that would break the gloom of a bad memory. It got dark faster than they expected, but it had more to do with how much fun they were having together than the shortening days. When it got too cold for Cherry to stand staying out any longer, the two of them walked back to the front door of her apartment building.

“Y’know,” she said when they arrived, “you didn’t have to walk me all the way home. It’s almost like the end of a date, or something.”

“What, with how much you and Nutmeg flirt while I’m around? It couldn’t be!” She froze; and Cherry felt the air around her begin to thaw. “Wait, could it be? Cherry, was this supposed to be a date??”

“I was just kidding, bestie, you don’t have to go critical on me. Usually, you get up under a girl’s skirt at the end of a date, right?”

“C-c’mon!” she cried, screwing her eyes shut again. “It wasn’t like that!!”

“I know, I know!” Cherry laughed. “Hey, c’mon. I promise it’s not like it’s gonna be weird or anything. Doctor-patient confidentiality, or whatever, right? But hey,” she said more softly, reaching for Ada’s paw. She paused before touching her, waiting for her to nod in confirmation before just going and grabbing things, this time. “We could make it a date, next time! If you want, anyway.”

“U-um. Yeah. Yeah!” There was a growing, fully snow-free circle spreading from Ada’s feet, at this point. “T-that would be, it’d be awesome! I would love that!!”

“Great! You know the door’s always open for you, bestie. See you soon?”

“I’m already scheduled to come over again in a few days!!”

“Sooner? I’m on my way to face the music. I was definitely losing to Nutmeg earlier. If you bail me out before she literally pushes me up against the wall, we can call it even for helping you out today.” Ada’s brow furrowed, a little concerned.

“She’s not… literally pushing you around, right?”

“Oh, no! I’m constantly asking for it. Literally, most of the time. I wouldn’t even complain if she did it tonight, but like… it’s the principle. I gotta save face after getting dressed-down in front of a guess like that, y’know?”

“Well, that makes two of us getting exposed in front of our friends, right? At least you aren’t alone.”

“Ha! Sorry again about that. But hey, maybe we can do that on purpose next time too, right?” She could see Ada freezing up again, and blew her a kiss goodbye to save her the trouble of finding her words again, ducking back inside; she could hear the air whooshing around outside all the way until she got back to the elevator.

plus a little bit of an epilogue for you =^w^=

I hope you enjoyed!! The transgender plushie robot catgirl is very near and dear to my heart. I know, I know, total shock. If you're interested in more of my writing you can have a look here and here. And please check Robin out too!! She's crazy talented and is the one who came up with Ada in the first place so

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ssstraykiss · 7 months

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stray kids as taylor swift's songs🫧 (angst ver.)

skz masterlist | main masterlist

───※ ·❆· ※───

✰Bang Chan : August

"but I can see us lost in the memory, august slipped away in a moment of time, 'cause it was never mine and I can see us twisted in bedsheets, august sipped away like a bottle of wine,'cause you were never mine." "back when we were still changin' for the better, wanting was enough for me it was enough. To live for the hope of it all, cancel plans in case you call, meet me behind the mall, so much for summer love and saying us 'cause you weren't mine to lose"

✰ Lee Know : Champagne Problems

"your midas touch on the chevy door, november flush and the flannel cure, "this dorm was once a madhouse" i made a joke, "well, it's made for me". How evergreen our group of friends, don't think we'll say that word again and soon they'll have the nerve to deck the hall that we once walked through. One for the money, two for the show, i never was ready so i watched you go" "and hold your hand while dancing, never leave you standing, crestfallen on the landing with champagne problems. Your mom's ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won't remember all my champagne problems"

✰ Changbin : Right where you left me

"you left me no choice but to stay here forever" "did you hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everyone else, she won't know it. She's still 23 inside her fantasy, how it was supposed to be. Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? Breakups happen everyday, you don't have to lose it, she's still 23 in her fantasy and you're sitting in front of me" " 'Cause I'm right where. I cause no harm, mind my own business, if our love died young, I can't bear witness and it's been so long but if you ever thing you got it wrong, I'm right where you left me"

✰ Hyunjin : Hoax

"stood on the cliffside screaming, "give me a reason", your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in. Don't want no other shade of blue, but you no other sadness in the world would do" "You know I left a part of me back in New York You knew the hero died, so what's the movie for? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart, you knew the password, so I let you in the door, you knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart but what you did was just as dark, darling, this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart"

✰ Han : Cardigan

"and when i felt like an old cardigan, under someone's bed, you put me on and said i was favourite" "to kiss in cars in downtown bars was all it needed, you drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding, 'Cause I knew you steppin' on the last train marked me like a bloodstain, I, I knew you tried to change the ending, peter losing wendy, I, I knew you leaving like a father, running like water" "but i knew you'd linger like a tattooed kiss, i knew you'd haunt all my what if's" "Cause I knew everything when i was young, i knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired and you'd be standing in my front porch light and I knew you'd come back to me"

✰ Felix : Back to December

"realized i loved you in fall and then the cold came, the dark days. When fear crept in my mind you gave me all your love, and all i gave you was goodbye" "So this is me swallowing my pride, standing in front of you saying sorry for that night and I go back to december all the time" "i miss your tan skin, you sweet smile, so good to me, so right and how you held be that september night, first time you ever saw me cry" "maybe this is wishful thinking, probably mindless dreaming. But if we loved again, I'd love you right, I'd go back in time and change it but i can't, so if the chain is on your door I understand."

✰ Seungmin : All too well

"we were always skipping town, and i was thinking on the drive down "any time now, he's gonna say it's love", you never called what it was, 'til we were dead and gone and buried. Check the pulse and come back swearin' it's all the same, after three months in the grave and then wondered where it went to as I reached for you but all I felt was shame and you held my lifeless frame" "and maybe we got lost in translation and maybe i asked for too much, and maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up, running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well" "and you call me up again just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the nane if being honest, I'm a crumbled up piece of paper lyin' here, 'cause i remember it all"

✰ I.N : My tears ricochet

"even on my worst day, did i deserve it babe, all the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'til my dying day" "and if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed" "you know, I didn't want to haunt you but what a ghostly scene, you wear the same jewels i gave you as you bury me" "and you can aim for my heart, go for my blood, but yu would still miss me in your bones, and i talk to you when I'm screaming at the sky, and when you can't sleep at night you hear my stolen lullabies" "and you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain crossing out the good years and you're cursing my name, wish I stayed, look at my tears ricochet"

───※ ·❆· ※───

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saltygilmores · 4 months

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THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: S3/EP6: TAKE THE DEVILED EGGS (Pt 2) (This One's Gonna Be a Real Rage Inducer) (Lots Of Interesting Development Though) (So many things happening) (Salty Rambles about Jess Mariano's Birthday)

There is something to be said about Luke (on multiple occasions) readily admitting he pays Jess in ketchup packets to toil in the Coffee Mines more or less against his will. I get that it's just a part time job after school...before school..while he's cutting school..always working...never stopping...never reicieving any tips from Lorelai and Rory... Rory needs a job... Rory and Lorelai need to pay for their food... Anyway these comments shed a light on the shaky economies of small businesses in small towns which is interesting to me. Gilmore Girls is really, at it's core, a show about class. One day he could wake up to find his diner has been turned into a Dunkin Donuts (this is Not-Quite-But-Almost-New England after all, where DD is king).

Hahahahaha!! Jess stole money to buy a car and he committs attempted murder! Hahahahaaha! You're SO FUNNY LORELAI GILMORE. Your daughter stole a boat.

Yeah. And maybe back home, he did had to steal to survive sometimes. How about them apples, Lorelai Gilmore. God, do I loathe her.

Don't say that around Lorelai, I think she'd believe you were being serious.

A couple of the moots and I recently decided that in the recent past, Liz managed to land and then lose a halfway decent boyfriend/ father figure to Jess who had a car and taught Jess to drive and do repairs and some other light adulting. I honestly feel like this is the only thing that makes sense.

HE LOOKS SO GOOD IN THIS SCENE!!! Fuck meeee. Look at that li'l curl...

LOOK AT IT!!!! You know what, I'm calling it. I'm putting my foot down. This is the hottest Milo had ever looked in the entirety of seasons 2 and 3. It's that perfectly gelled hair, the jean jacket, the cool tshirt. Very James Dean. Woof. Let's see, what would I choose for second place? I have to go with the party scene in KegMax, another episode with impeccably jelled hair and a jean jacket (and even while he was apparently sick shooting that episode too). He just progresses in hotness the further season 3 marches on.

These four words "I'm still a minor" are a point of contention for me in the ongoing debate about his birth month. My beliefs: Jess is a Virgo. He was born in August or early September. This would make him just older than Rory by just a smidge. Since well over a year has passed in the show since the episode he arrived in Stars Hollow as a 17 year old (when he arrived, it was early September as Rory had just started school in that episode), he had just celebrated his birthday before arriving and so he has to have already turned 18 by this episode. However, I will consider the theory that Luke was clueless or misinformed about his age at the time he arrived (because it's not like LIz is in any way reliable with information) and he was actually 16 going on 17 when he hopped off the bus last year, and maybe he has an October or November birthday making him slightly younger than Rory. It would make sense that both missed the kindergarten cut off dates in 1989 at their respective schools (which is rock solid canon already for Rory, as she was born in October 84 but graduated in 03 instead of 02), putting them in the same grade.

Salty has put a pathetic amount of thought into this. So, how can I accept this statemen? I attribute it to the same brand of biting sarcasm that gave us "I mugged an old lady" moments ago and also because this scene doesn't make a whole lot of sense to begin with. He's still a minor, but he got his own insurance all by himself under his own name, which is not really a thing, but not his own car registration? Committing insurance fraud perhaps? Sketchy insurance company that didn't ask too many questions? He knows a guy who knows a guy who can print up some fake documents? At that point why not go all the way with the white collar crimes and forge Luke's signature on the registration too? See, Lorelai thinks Jess is a thief and murderer when he's really a white collar criminal like Taylor Doose.

My memory was certain that he produced a cigarrette and not a pen in this scene. I had to edit this post to remove a line about him smoking. I guess I confused it with the Then She Appears/ Cmurrh kissing scene, where he's also wearing a jean jacket with a popped collar. Damn. I can't wait for that scene...

Just some light fraud. If the car belonged to someone in Stars Hollow, whoever's registration he stole probably deserved it anyway. This is how I approach all "Crimes" Jess commits in Stars Hollow. There are only a few people who don't deserve it. Your honor, my client is innocent.

Oh no, the couch of doom. No good conversations ever happens between Rory and Lorelai on the couch, especially after one of them comes home at night and finds the other one on the couch. The Gilmores recieve an invitation to Sherry's baby shower. The moots and I have determined that Doula and Gigi will eventually band together to form the most powerful duo of neglected half sisters the world has ever seen. For the record, today Doula would be 17 and Gigi would be 21. Since Jess eventually comes to adopt and raises Doula she has a somewhat decent chance of coming out a well adjusted adult. At the very least, if she was stuck with TJ and Liz, Jess would still be a positive influence on her life, visit her and look out for her and make sure she didn't get sucked into any cults. The odds are a lot more grim for Gigi with Crusty and Sherry as her forever "parents" and let's face it, very likely her relationship with big sister Rory or any of the other Gilmores is non existent.

And things were so peaceful. Especially since Dean hasn't reared his ugly head in the last two episodes, either.

You flip flop with Crusty so much how can anyone possibly keep track of whether you're on the outs with him or banging him at any given time?

And by saying that out loud you're gonna tip the balance of the universe and he's going to show up. I looked ahead and although this is sadly still a Crusty-Focused episode, he doesn't actually make an appearance. Small blessings. To Lorelai's surprise, Rory admits that she's been in contact with Crusty and Lorelai is okay with it but upset that Rory was hiding it from her. God, he's such a parasite.

Emails. How quaint.

Highly debatable.

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #TDDE #Take the Deviled Eggs #Rory Gilmore #Lorelai Gilmore #Jess Mariano #Luke Danes #Milo Ventimiglia

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krii-bolts · 5 months

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E. Still alive, just been busy + November being november

anyways Uh. I'm working on a mod called Ruined Waters ; A WIP Dimension mod of a Fallen Civilization within a damp, muddy world full of ruins

Right now I'm just working on some simpler blocks (As seen above) and plants to give myself an idea of how this dimension should be like; Essentially, crafting the vibe of the mod

I am using Mcreator for this mod, just cause we all gotta start somewhere yknow?

anyways leme explain the blocks shown above in order, left to right!

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Ink Sludge Block + Glow Ink Sludge Block!

The first blocks I made in the mod that slow down the player like Honey Blocks! Crafted with Two Ink Sacs of your choosing, and 2 mud in 2x2 crisscross fashion!

Oh and Glow Ink Sludge Glows, similar to a magma block!

I uh. Still don't know what made me to make these blocks tbh

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These are (currently) the plants I have Made! Amphora Plant, Navy Bush, and Moss Bulbs

Mainly aesthetic, meant to be placed in future biomes

Amphora Plant can be turned into 2 Orange Dye And Navy Bush into 1 Blue Dye

I Made the moss bulbs as a Edition / Extension to the moss block, simular to grass, tho I'm currently a little unhappy at their current texture so. Might change it up a bit soon

Ofc, with the goal of making a Dimension mod, Gonna be making a LOT of plant life

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The Earl Bush! One of the first Food items I've made so far, similar to the Sweet Berry bush!

Atm, the Earl Fruit has a Nutritional value of 4 (2 Food Points) with a Saturation of 0.4

I do plan for the Earl Fruit to be apart of larger food recipes, as well as making Dimension Found Crops!

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And Finally, The Azine Wood Set

Azine (Azure + Pine) is one of the first wood sets I've added to this mod! Not much to say other then the leaves I'll be making soon will be of a White Coloration

so uh. yeeh

WIP mod moment, Ruined Waters

Oh yeah and some Main minor goals I wanted to do for this mod

new Stone type with a coloration thats Darker then Cobblestone + Andesite, but lighter then DeepSlate

New Variations to Prismarine, either in block form or in Decor Form

Tapestries! Like Paintings, but with a whole set of Dimension-lore like designs surrounding the Main fallen Civilization, The Interlopers

Some greater threat? Perhaps the cause of the Main Civilization's collapse + Just this Dimension's Downfall

Oh and uh. A name for the Dimension

#krii art #ruined waters mod #minecraft mods #minecraft #modded minecraft #Oh yeah. btw im making this mod based off some ruins I made in my current modded minecraft playthrough #Perhaps I should uh. Show off that world for some context

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fellow-traveller · 17 days

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This is gonna be long, so if you don't have the time to read it, it's cool, I'll summarise it like this:

I think I'm back. Kinda. Expect some blasts of Hol Horse fanart that I missed sharing here since November 2023 (if you followed my Twitter/X, you might have seen them)

Okay, I know excuses can be bad but here's mine to kinda justify my absence.

I admit that I had been feeling depressed with what's happening in P@lest1ne for the past 6 months, because I had never seen it happening in real time, in videos and interviews. 20+ years ago, anything about them came in the form of stories from actual P@lest1nians whom I had the privilege to meet during my volunteer work in school, and newspaper articles from local publishers. Our local broadcasters still chant FTRTTS whenever they talk about them. But the real-time atrocities and the aftermath really got me hard. I'm not one to shy away from real-life gore - true crime is my go-to documentary whenever I'm relaxing - but what's happening there - the injustice, the brutality, the depravity - can be too much for me to bear.

I'm not saying I'm used to it by now...I still hear my heart break with every dead and hungry child I see on my screen, but at the same time, I feel a bit more hopeful. Mainly because I believe in the P@lest1nians' faith and resilience, and I believe in mine.

Apart from world events, on a personal level, my company moved to a new building in December, about an extra 30 minutes drive away from my home, so I was almost on a blackout from online stuff back then. Didn't even touch the 1 Day 1 Hol Horse challenge (but thankfully they are done now...will share them later). The move-out was done around the end of January 2024, and then I got busy again with work in February. Work had been very hectic because everything had been disorganised since the move. Even now, we don't really have internet in the new building and had to use our phone data for that.

Wanted to get back last month, but delayed it until today because my cat was sick with cancer. My cat, little Vee, whom I had for 12 years, just passed 2 days ago, 1 day before my birthday ;-;

Anyway, all that said, I think I'm ready to be back now on tumblr. I know I missed a lot of drawings that I kinda promised myself to finish (like the Halloween Hol), and also posting the 1 Day 1 Hol Horse doodles. I missed other people's Hol Horse and HolPol fanart as well. I also have a few thoughts I wanted to share of our favourite JoJo cowboy too...

So in the next few hours, I'll be doing just that. I apologise for the massive spam that's about to come beforehand. Just note that if you cannot wait for the fanart blast, you're welcomed to dig for them on my Twitter/X.

On current notes, I'm in the middle of doing The Emperor Month Challenge. Basically, Hol Horse with the other Part 3 characters. I missed 2 days now, but I'll be catching up. This will be on until the end of this month.

For now, I won't be doing requests/art trades because I wanna start drawing for my JoJo OCs. I have been neglecting them for months.

Hopefully the depression will simmer down. The world is a mess, and I'm trying to soldier on.

Oh, and to my Muslim followers, Happy Eid-ul-Fitr. ♥

#personal #update #i miss you guys #the love for the entire equine must go on

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 2 years

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Life If Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Nine: Life Carries On

Summary- 4.6k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. After Halloween proves to be a busy time for you, but you and Curtis manage to secure a Friday night date at Paulie's where you get your chance to talk to Edgar.

Warnings- Some mad and in Edgar's face Curtis. Curtis's death glare from across a bar? Yeah, that would be scary.

A/N- A nice calmer some healing from Edgar's disrespect. I would like to point out that our Reader is actually saying "I deserve better" and before that wouldn't have happened. Yay for growth! Thank you so much to everyone who reads and shares this personal series for me. @what-is-your-plan-today thank you for always giving it a once over. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics

Chapter Eight / Masterlist

Curtis arranged it so that you would pick him up after you were done at the school that day, meaning he could drive Edgar’s car to the train yard. After a perfect Sunday fixing some of the bullshit Edgar caused, Curtis was still wanting to wrangle the idiot's neck.

Chubby Chaser, where the fuck did Edgar even get that bullshit? His mood darkened when he put the car in park and across the lot he saw others trot out of the office, pulling their jackets up to block the wind as the first day of November was not only raining, but it was mixing with sleet. The forecast was calling for snow by the end of the day. Before leaving that morning, he had checked your tires to make sure they would handle the snow and slush just fine.

“Curtis, you do know I am from New England?” You huddled in your driver's seat while the car was warming up, watching as he checked the tread of your car before letting you leave. “My car is ready for winter.” Somewhere the chilly but still tolerable weather on Halloween night had taken a dramatic change and left you with almost winter temps on that November first morning.

He hummed in response as he pushed back up to a stand. “Sure, but have you ever had a Michigan winter? Wind coming off the lake drops down into the negatives almost immediately.”

You narrow your eyes at him while pushing yourself back out of the car. Reaching up to straighten his jacket collar and smooth your hand against his chest. “Okay you got me, this is my first one, but I lived on Lake George. Granted it’s not one of the Great Lakes, but it is still pretty fierce in the winter. Also my father called me two weeks ago reminding me to get the tires put on. But I would have done it regardless, I swear. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Curtis ran a knuckle under your chin and tilted your head up to meet him, placing a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth. “I believe you Honey, sorry. I just want you to be safe, I know I might be over bearing but…” He drifted off, a grim smile was placed and you seemed to dawn in understanding; having lost his family in a car accident made him wary. Your arms wrapped around his waist and you nodded once more to assure him.

“Feel free to check my tires everyday Curtis.”

Curtis pressed his mouth to your forehead, hugging you in a silent thank you. “Come get me at the train yard afterwards? If it's not shitty out, I will take us out before you drop me off at home.”

You broke into a smile. “Deal. Have a good day at work.” You gave a wave of your fingers as you slipped back in behind the driver's seat and pulled out of his driveway, turning towards the school across town.

Curtis braced himself for Edgar as he made his way into the office. Tanya lifted her head from her computer while Curtis clocked in, she grabbed a clipboard and set it at the edge of her desk for Curtis to collect. While he flipped through the day's deliveries as well as the two freight cars that had seized wheels he needed to fix, he started muttering to himself about the scheduling mishaps. “Do they know we need more than fifteen minutes to unload those cars? Gilliam is out of his damn mind thinking we are gonna get it all off that quick in this weather.”

Tanya waved her hand. “Forget that Curtis, is Y/N okay?”

Curtis tucked the clipboard away, his face darkening. “She is perfectly fine, we spent a nice Sunday together.”

Tanya was about to ask what the two of you did when Edgar slipped into the office, rubbing at his hands to warm them up. “Hey…” He said cautiously, Curtis dug his hands into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them on the counter.

“Cars in the lot.”

“Listen man, I’m sorry for what I said. Can’t we put this behind us?” Edgar tried reasoning as he grabbed his car keys. Curtis rounded on his friend, making Edgar seem small as he backed up a step. Tanya watched wide eyed from behind the desk. Grey came in next, catching Curtis getting in Edgar’s face.

“There is no putting it behind us Jackass. I had to convince Y/N that I was the lucky one to be with her. So no. You can fuck right off.”

“Curtis I was drunk. Y/N has to know I’m basically an idiot.” Edgar protested as Curtis made a grab at his jacket, looking like he was ready to beat the shit out of him when Tanya clapped her hands to catch everyone's attention.

“Hey! No fighting in my office.”

Grey moved in between them, separating the men. Curtis backed up, throwing his hands up to say he was done. “You wanna fix this Edgar? Apologize to Y/N and not some bullshit apology about how you were drunk. Fucking mean it. When she tells me she has forgiven you, maybe we can be good again. Till then, stay the fuck out of my way.” He pushed his way out of the office, leaving the three of them behind.

“I’m so fucking screwed.” Edgar muttered and Tanya smacked at the back of his head, making him wince.

“I can’t believe you did that shit Edgar, you are lucky I don't wring your neck.” She hissed while Grey nodded in agreement as he clocked himself in.

“I was drunk!”

“No fucking excuse.”

Claude was waiting for you the moment you came in, holding out a tall cup of coffee. You took it gratefully while setting your bag down behind your desk. “You are a life saver.”

“So I’ve been told.” She perched on the edge of your desk while you took care of your stuff before your students came in. “Did everything smooth out Sunday?”

You paused, recalling Saturday night's disaster and how wonderful Sunday ended up being regardless. “Halloween was fantastic. Curtis and I handed out candy that night and we watched a scary movie.”

Claude gave you a look, a look that called you out as a liar. “That's it huh?”

You bit your lip and your face couldn't keep that innocent look anymore. “Of course not, he made it his personal mission yesterday to ruin me. I don’t know how I’m walking today.”

That made Claude grin wickedly back. “I knew it, it's always those broody quiet types.” She wiggled her brows while sipping from her coffee. “Did he kill that little prick?”

You sighed at the mention of Edgar. “No, and I feel kind of guilty. He is one of Curtis’s closest friends.”

Claude rolled her eyes. “He was an ass.”

“Absolutely agreed. I just feel bad about it.”

“Well don’t, I’m glad the little prick got caught. That was disrespectful to you and Curtis.”

You let that sink in a moment. All this time you thought about how it was affecting Curtis and not really what it meant to you, your mind seemed to block out that it was disrespectful to you as well. Not wanting to dwell on it much more, you turned the subject to her. “So, Grey… what do you think?”

Her eyes lit up and she scrolled through her phone to show it to you. “Texted all day yesterday. I think we are gonna go on a date soon.”

“Grey seems like a great guy every time I’ve ever met him. I’m sure you will have a great time.”

“Yeah, I hope so. Umm, do you think it’s weird how close he seems to his baby mama?” She asked, genuinely curious and maybe wondering if that would be something to worry about. You came around the desk, holding your cup and sipping from it.

“I mean, I just met Ella Saturday, but… no? Heck she was the one trying to introduce you two after she met you. I think genuinely they are just friends? But I really don’t know the situation there. I think that if you want to pursue this, you should ask Grey. He seems like a pretty straightforward kind of guy.”

“I will see if I can casually bring it up in one of our conversations.” It was hard to miss the hopeful beam crossing Claude’s face. “I hope so, I really like him.” The bell rang and Claude checked the time. “Crap, I will catch up later.” She bounded off your desk, weaving through the students who were happily chatting about their weekends. Taking a few more moments to yourself, one last sip of your coffee and you grabbed the lesson plans of the day.

The rest of the week and well into the next flew by for you. You and Curtis planned on meeting back up Friday night as you were in the middle of preparing for students for the first trimester switch over, grades needed to be finalized and notes written to parents. It meant long nights at the school with the rest of Mason Academy’s staffing team.

But that didn’t mean Curtis didn’t still pop into your day to day life. You two would send texts through the day, he had taken to sending you snippets of whatever book he was reading, and midweek you came home to having a door dash appear with an order from a local chinese place that you two had gone to the week before, already paid in full. Opening it up, you found your order from that date and then some extra so you would have at least a few meals out of it. Plucking out a spring roll, you snapped a picture of you taking a bite of the crispy roll and sent it to Curtis.

Thank you for dinner. It was such a hectic day. 😮‍💨

I figured Honey, enjoy your meal.

You were thoroughly looking forward to going out Friday night, having suggested hitting up Paulie’s that night. Curtis would be able to make a few extra bucks helping bartend, Claude had messaged you that she was planning on meeting up with Grey there, and you were more than willing to throw darts as a stress reliever- picturing a few choice parents' faces as the bullseye. Curtis was happy to go along with whatever you wanted to do. You offered to meet him there, and when you arrived, you found him already behind the bar. Claiming a spot at the end, you settled in to watch him work and openly check him out as it had been a few weeks since the last bartending flirting session, the memory of it making a spiral of arousal settle in your belly.

A too tight in the shoulders white henley shirt stretched across his chest, your eyes roving down to strong forearms flexing as he worked the line of taps. You saw the flash of a laugh in his usual serious features, it looked like he had given himself a fresh cut, your palms twitched, knowing how soft it would be right now to run your hands over. Handing over a beer with a coaster, he wiped his hands on a towel that he had hooked in the back pocket of his jeans when he came to where you were seated. Curtis was able to easily reach over the bar counter to hook a hand against the back of your neck and lean in to give you a kiss. “Go claim us a table and I will be right over? You want anything from the kitchen?”

“Mmhh, whatever you are in the mood for. Claude messaged me earlier, her and Grey are going to stop in later.”

Curtis prepared a pitcher for the two of you as well as some glasses. “Yes, he mentioned it to me earlier they would be stopping in. Seems Ella ended up playing matchmaker Halloween weekend.”

“Yup, and I couldn’t be more pleased about it. Claude hasn’t stopped talking about Grey since that night” You grinned as you collected the stuff Curtis handed to you. “See you in a minute, Handsome.” Leaving the bar, you were able to find a table over by the darts, which you poured the beer in the frosty mugs, collected darts and suddenly a pair of arms circled around your waist and scruff scratched at your neck while a pair of lips smoothed against a sweet little spot behind your ear. Curtis’ hard body pressed in behind you, enveloping you with his warm scent. “Mmhh I missed you.”

You tilted your head back enough to share a kiss. “It was a crazy week, I wouldn’t have been much fun.” Curtis ran his hands along your hips, giving a squeeze and pulling you back into him a moment while nipping another kiss before letting you go so you both could sit at the little table. He had brought a small appetizer tray to go with the pitcher you had brought with you. Grabbing a chip to dunk it in some salsa, you bit into it while he took a drag off the beer. “Next couple isn’t going to be any better.”

“What’s gonna be going on?”

“Got some parent teacher conference days coming up. But I don’t want to discuss school anymore. How was your week? You listened to me bitch all week about mine.”

His eyes crinkled at you in amusement and gave a wink. “Typical, bullshit at the yard with scheduling. Tanya fishing for details about what we're up to, spent a few nights working on the Camaro.”

“You have to break Tanya’s heart?” You chuckled a bit while wiping your fingers clean, Curtis reached for some of the saucy wings, giving a shrug while grinning.

“I might have let her think something was going on, all her own conclusion. I just neither denied nor confirmed it.”

You snorted in laughter at him. “You didn’t!”

“I sure as hell did, she wants to be nosy, she can think what she wants.” He licked his lips clean while setting the bone aside, grabbing at your napkin that you used earlier and wiped at his mouth and fingers.

“How have things been at work with Edgar?” You asked after a few moments, studying the small appetizer tray, but sneaking a look at Curtis to try and gauge his response while taking the complimentary celery stick and nibbling on it.

Curtis shook his head. “Fuck him, told him to leave me alone.” Your heart sank a bit, but you remembered what Claude had said earlier about remembering how utterly disrespectful it had been to you and Curtis. You reached across the table and gave a light squeeze before pulling yourself up to a stand and going around the small table to hug around his neck, his arm instinctively went around your waist and pulled you in close. “Don’t let that dumbass take up any more of our night, Honey. You gonna try beating me at darts?”

“What do I get if I do?” You bit at your lip and distracted him momentarily, his pupils widening at the sight. Large hands clasped your ass and gave a firm squeeze that made you arch a bit. “Also ‘try’? Listen, I already know I’m gonna kick your ass Everett.”

“Whatever you want Honey, but I’m winning. When I win, you are coming home with me.”

You smirked feeling him grab at you, sure as shit that he was going to get what he wanted. You wrapped your hand in the chain hanging around his neck and pulled him in closer till you were inches away. “Well fuck Curtis, that was what I was going to pick. Guess if I win, my prize is your cock.” You took great pleasure at the way his eyes widened in surprise and you pulled him in rest of the way to give him a tongue teasing kiss, drawing out a groan from deep in his chest and his hands digging harshly into your ass to hold you close to him, it was when you pulled away, you felt his eyes following you hungrily while you went to the throw line and take aim with your darts. As you took your shot, you heard him muttering to himself.

“Fucking Christ woman, you just spring that on me and then go shoot knowing now you are gonna win.”

You grinned to yourself as you took aim once more, sure to give a slight shake of your waist just to hear him groan behind you once more like he was in pain while you let the dart go. You did pretty good for someone still learning you thought to yourself as Curtis came up next to you, sputtering under his breath while taking aim himself.

His bicep bulged as his arm lifted and his fingers fit around the dart while taking his aim. Sure you might have been distracting to him, but you had to really work at it. Curtis, it just came natural. You stood behind him while drinking in the wide legged stance he was comfortable with, long legs led up to the best looking ass in a pair of black jeans you have ever seen, that had to be cinched tight with a belt. The plain white tee he wore stretched across a broad back that hid nothing in the way he flexed, his shoulders shifting with the lift of an arm. It was enough to make you suck on your bottom lip to stifle the moan of appreciation, his head tilting slightly to look back at you.

You must have made a noise of some kind, because the rest of your body was getting hot and bothered. Crystalline blues sparked with amusement and you could see the way the corner of his mouth turned up in a grin. Turning back to take the next shots, you escaped back to your table to find refuge in your mug of beer, wondering if the rush of alcohol could possibly save you now.

You were tipping your head back to drain the last few swallows when Curtis squeezed his hand against your hip while going to take his own, that one brow of his quirking up. “Now you know what you make me feel every damn time Honey. Fucking hell makes me want to bend you right over this table.”

You snorted in surprise, covering your mouth to keep your composure as you glared at Curtis who busted into an easy laugh. The push and pull between you two was so easy going that time passed without a notice, a couple empty pitchers littering your table as well as the remains of used napkins and half full glasses. You two were taking a break from playing darts, Curtis sitting in one of the tall chairs made for the table, you were standing between his spread thighs, whispering to him how you couldn’t wait to get him home, running your hands up his covered chest and flirting with him till his jaw was clenching while keeping himself in check, his own hands sliding over your ass and giving very firm squeezes.

Suddenly he stilled though, his gaze falling over your shoulder and hardening. You pulled back in worry. “Curtis, what's wrong?” You glanced around and saw what had him closing up on you. Edgar leaned against the bar, chatting with Paulie. Turning back to him, you grasped his chin and tilted him to look towards you. “I’m not upset about it anymore. He was being a dumbass like you said.”

Curtis grunted slightly, an arm tightening slightly around you almost possessively. “That he is.”

“So, you gotta let this anger go Curtis, can’t let him ruin our night.” You nudged at him slightly and his eyes narrowed.

“I already told him that when he made it up to you, then I wouldn't think about wringing his neck.”

You pulled back slightly while considering what he said. Untangling yourself from around him, Curtis made to grasp back at you, but you dodged his hands while gathering the emptied pitchers and cups.

“Be right back.”

“Y/N…” He tried getting you to stop, but you shook your head at him and told him that you would only be a minute and to stay right there. With a look of resignation he did stay, but you could see him simmering about it. Pulling up beside Edgar, you unloaded the dirty dishes.

“Can we get another round Paulie?” The man broke from his conversation with Edgar and went to refill a pitcher.

Edgar turned towards you, eyes darting to where Curtis was across the room and back to you. “Y/N, I was hoping to bump into you tonight.”

You made yourself comfortable next to him, nodding. “I figured as much, we have to talk. Edgar. I have some things I need to tell you as well.”

“First let me apologize for Halloween Y/N.” Edgar started. “I was so out of line and I honestly don’t even know where it came from. I swear I don’t believe that at all and it was such an asshole thing of me to say.”

You nodded in agreement. “It was out of line Edgar, I didn’t deserve that and Curtis didn’t either. You are his friend and should be happy for him.” You turned to face the younger man, ready to lay into him. “What Curtis and I like and don’t like is nobody's business but our own, my weight is most certainly nothing you should ever be concerning yourself about and it really hurts that you would imply that the only reason your friend would be interested in me is because of that. You don’t even know me Edgar and right now all I know about you is that you are a judgemental bastard and not a very good friend to Curtis.” He went to start again and you cut him off. “I also know Curtis isn’t ready to forgive you until I do, so I really want to know if you are sorry Edgar, actually sorry. I want to know where that came from.” You paused when Paulie came over and left the pitcher. When he left, picking up the hint that you and Edgar were having a private discussion, you turned back to Edgar, waiting on an answer.

You could tell that he was uncomfortable, which is what you wanted. This conversation wasn’t supposed to be easy for him. You deserved an honest answer and you weren’t planning on giving him the usual brush off you always did in the past when it came to these kinds of situations, you were done with being treated less because you weren’t what was considered average. “I was drunk, but that’s not why I said it.” Edgar’s gaze dropped to the bar in shame. “I saw how happy Curtis was, like genuinely happy for the first time in a long time and I was jealous.”

You frowned while listening to him. “You were jealous of Curtis?”

“Yup, pathetic right? He is one of my closest friends and it stung like a son of a bitch that he got to have that with you and I wanted it. You just dropped into his life and suddenly things just seemed better for him.”

“Well you are not going to meet someone by being a shallow dick like that.” You pointed out and Edgar lifted his gaze to meet yours.

“I deserved that.”

“You did, none of us are going to be perfect. Picking apart someone's flaws is going to do nothing but leave you lonely and miserable.”

“I know, I felt like shit afterwards and I regret even thinking about it, let alone saying it. In fact, I got you something to hopefully make up for ruining your party. You don’t have to forgive me if you don’t want to, I understand if you tell me to eat shit and fuck off. But I really do want you and Curtis to have this.” He handed you over a slip of paper. You unfolded it and read the business header on the top.

“Lakeside Cabins?” You questioned while looking over the rest of the paper.

“Yes, any weekend you want, it’s all paid for. You just have to call them to reserve the date. I know its not alot, but I thought a weekend away can replace the one I fucked up.” He said seriously and you were shocked for a moment at what he was giving you.

“Wow Edgar… this is… thank you.” You refolded the paper. “I’m sure Curtis will appreciate this as well.”

The man gave a small smile at your reaction, brushing his hand at the back of his neck and shrugged a bit, but looked relieved at that moment. “Well like you said, I was being a judgemental bastard and that's not who I want to be. I’m really happy for Curtis and want to be friends with you as well.”

You let all he said sink in and felt that it was genuine. Holding out your hand for him, you gave a smile. “I would like that to Edgar, let’s start over?” Edgar gave a nod and shook your hand. Grabbing the pitcher of beer, you tilted your head over to your table where you knew Curtis was studying the two of you closely. “You should come over sometime and play a game with us.” You glanced at Curtis and bit at your lip to hide a smile at the absolutely stone cold way he glared over at the two of you. “If you want to risk it.”

Edgar gave a small wave over to Curtis, who gave a sharp small nod in acknowledgment. “Maybe…we will see. I probably better let you go first, keep me safe.” He joked, which made you laugh and gently clasp your hand against his shoulder before moving to a stand.

“Don’t be a chicken shit, Edgar.”

“You’re not the one who's being threatened to get his head ripped off by both the Everett’s. Ella has already threatened to make my body disappear.” Edgar groaned out as you left him behind, going to join Curtis once more. Sitting in the seat next to him, you slid the piece of paper over to him.

“You can stop giving him the death glare, I think he is really sorry.” You informed him while he curiously opened up the paper to look at it. You scooted your chair closer while he read the information to himself, leaning your head against his arm.

“He gave you this?” Curtis flipped the paper to see if there was anything on the back and then looked at it again. “These are about an hour drive from here, nice little places from what I can tell.”

“Yup, any weekend we would like to go. A way of trying to fix the weekend he ruined he said.” Curtis handed over the paper and you folded it back up to tuck it away for safekeeping. “Paid in full.”

“I guess that was nice of him.” Curtis grumbled out, grabbing at the pitcher and pouring two glasses for the both of you.

“I thought it was and I also told him I forgave him.” You lifted your head from his arm and took the beer glass for him, tilting up to press a kiss against his bristled cheek. “But that doesn't mean you should until you are ready, Curtis. As Claude pointed out to me, it wasn't just disrespectful to me, but to you as well.” Grabbing at your darts, you left him sitting there, pondering over what you said while you went to finish off the last game of the night.

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