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makoodles · 2 years

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tìtunu | tsu'tey (part 4 | nsfw)

pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

word count: 10k words

warnings: nsfw, jealousy, hurt/comfort, size difference, p in v sex, doggy-style, rough (?) sex

notes: i really though that i was finished with this, but y'all got me with the asks about jealous and protective tsu'tey 😭 (also this gif makes me fucking FERALLLL)

read it on ao3

part one | part two | part three (nsfw) | part 4 (nsfw) masterlist

Tsu’tey doesn’t think he’s ever been so smug in his whole life.

He survived the battle with the Sky People, he has healed from his wounds and come back even stronger, and he has been successful in his mating advances with his chosen mate.

The fact that his chosen mate was one of the little sky demons that he hates so much, was a surprise to the whole village (he had surprised himself too, truthfully) but everything is different with you. You are not destructive, you are not harmful – you study the flora and fauna of his planet with the reverence of a wide-eyed child, and he finds it terribly endearing. You are so small, and his planet can be such a harsh place for one as soft as a human. It’s a constant source of frustration and concern, despite his best efforts to handle and minimise possible risks.

“You are certain?” He demands of the Sky Person in front of him.

The man is one of the so-called scientists that live in the pathetic excuse for housing that the alien demons had built in the forest after the rest of the Sky People had been forced off the planet. There’s not many of them; the ones who stayed were approved by the few loyal demons, and they are largely respectful of the native populations as they try to integrate as much as they are allowed. That does not mean that Tsu’tey trusts them, and it certainly doesn’t mean that he likes them.

“Yes,” The little man in front of him says, visibly nervous. He swallows thickly, his heavy breaths fogging up his odd little mask. “Yes, we tested all the fruit you brought, and they all came up safe for human consumption. A human digestive system wouldn’t be able to break down something like meat from Pandoran animals, but the fruits you brought should be fine. Chemically, it’s quite similar to fruits we have back on Earth-”

Tsu’tey just grunts. He does not care about Earth's fruits. All he wants to know is whether he can feed you some of the fruits that he has foraged, and now that he has gotten his answer he is not inclined to stand around and listen to the little man bumble along any longer.

Without another word he turns and strides away, reaching his pa’li and pulling himself astride her with ease before urging her forward into the forest. At a swift pace, he reaches the village in no time and from there he moves quickly to find you.

Unsurprisingly, he finds you beneath one of the pxiut trees. You have your notebook open in front of you as you lay on your belly making your silly little notes, totally absorbed in your work. As he approaches, he takes the opportunity to look you over.

You appear content, head bowed over your work as you write. The bright sunshine filters in through the trees overhead, sending dappled patterns over your exposed skin. Seeing your strange human form dressed in the traditional clothes of the Na’vi always sets Tsu’tey alight, and his tail swishes appreciatively as he admires you.

“Hello, demon,” He murmurs when he reaches you, lowering himself to his knees out of pure habit. It has become second-nature to lower himself to your level when he’s around you – he enjoys the closeness of it.

You hum. Though you don’t lift your eyes from your work, a smile is beginning to curve your lips. “Is that any way to greet your mate?”

Tsu’tey’s lips quirk in response, and he leans in so his nose is nuzzling into your hair. You lean into him in a move that’s mostly automatic, and he feels a flare of smug pleasure at the ease with which you melt against his side.

“My little demon,” He corrects himself with a sardonic little grin, enjoying the way you roll your eyes fondly. “I have brought you food. Will you eat?”

Your eyes dart to his immediately, visibly uncertain. He already knows what you’re thinking, and he tries not to wince.

“It is safe,” He says quickly. “I asked one of the tawtute. They did tests.”

Your expression changes then, your grin growing sharper. “Aw, look at you taking care of me, huh?”

He can tell by your tone of voice that you’re teasing him, but that doesn’t stop the swell of pride in his chest. Yes, he is taking care of you. It’s always gratifying when his efforts are noticed, and he tries not to look too smug as he reaches out to touch you.

You are laying on your belly with your notebook in front of you, so his hand comes to rest on the back of one of your thighs. You are so small beneath him, so soft and squishy compared to the lean hardness of most Na’vi bodies. He can’t resist squeezing just slightly, just to watch the squidge of your thighs poke out between his spread fingers.

You roll your eyes at him – you know exactly what he’s doing, after all. He has not been very successful at keeping his fascination with your little pliable body a secret, and why should he? You are his mate, and you belong to him as surely as he belongs to you. Getting to touch you like this is a privilege belonging only to him, and he wishes to get as much out of it as he can.

“I always take care of you.” He says, and your smile softens.

“Yeah, big guy, you do.” You say, and the fondness in your voice is so obvious that it makes Tsu’tey’s hardened heart tremble a little in his chest.

His hand slides up your plush thighs and comes to a rest over the swell of your backside, relishing the heat of your skin even through the tewng covering you. You’re even softer here, nothing but squidge, and he allows himself a moment to indulge in squeezing you here too as you laugh.

“Alright, pervert,” You snicker, closing your notebook and pushing yourself up. “You can’t just start feeling me up – we’re in public.”

Tsu’tey’s hand falls away as you move to stand, and he has to fight the urge to pout hard. “The People know that we are mated in the eyes of Eywa.”

“That doesn’t mean that it’s okay to traumatise them all like this.” You snort. “I don’t think anyone wants to see you groping me in broad daylight.”

Many of the People have a sort of morbid curiosity about how mating with a tawtute works, so Tsu’tey isn’t entirely certain that you’re correct in that assumption. There are many who would be only too pleased to watch. But he doesn’t argue; you are beginning to push yourself to your feet, so he stands too.

“What is pervert?” He asks, looking down at you as you stretch your arms overhead and yawn.

Truthfully he gets distracted for a moment, admiring your soft belly and exposed skin in Na’vi clothes – if he could burn all your human coverings without you getting angry at him, he certainly would. He wants to see you dressed in the clothes of his People all the time.

You laugh as if he had said something very funny. “A pervert is what you are.”

“Is it a bad thing?” He wonders, reaching out so that his hand rests on the back of your neck across your shoulders.

Your eyes flutter closed as he kneads lightly at the base of your neck. “No,” You murmur softly. “Not when it’s you.”

He relaxes, nodding decisively before reaching for your small hand. “Come. You will eat and watch me train.”

It’s become almost like a routine for him to drag you with him to practice fighting or sparring. While you don’t come with him every day, he has managed to bring you often enough that the sight of you trailing behind him towards the training ground is a familiar one for the young warriors in training.

As he leads you towards the training grounds, he sees the few young warriors gathered around the archery practice range turn to watch his approach. Their eyes flicker towards you – though they never say anything about it, he knows that their curiosity is burning at the sight of you at Tsu’tey’s hip. The apprehension and caution about the Sky People is still very much embedded in their hearts and minds, and yet you are probably the least intimidating thing they’ve ever seen in their lives.

Tsu’tey imagines that his own interest and desire for you only fuels their curiosity further. He had gained somewhat of a reputation for himself before he had met you; he is the strongest warrior in the clan, he had been trained from a very young age for leadership, and he is a prominent and well-respected figure within the village. He was much desired as a mate by many women in the clan.

So when he chose you, the small and soft demon that is entirely unsuited to their planet, it was a source of surprise to many. Yet he is lucky – his people are supportive, even when they do not understand his choice of mate. Even if some of the women remain slightly disgruntled with him.

“You will sit over here,” He pushes you gently towards a clearing, out of the way of the other Na’vi that tower over you, to a spot where you will be safe. “You can see well, from here.”

It’s important that you have a good view, after all. He likes it when you watch him – it’s satisfying to give you a display of his physical strength and his skills, to remind you that he is a strong mate for you.

You just sit down where he’s directed you, and smile eagerly at him. He knows that you enjoy watching him too, and his tail swishes in anticipation. If you are pleased with what you see, it can only mean good things in store for him later.

“What are you up to today, then?” You ask, lounging back in the soft mossy ground against the stump of a tree.

“Spear training, and then hand to hand combat.” He says, reaching into the small bag around his waist. He pulls out the soft wrapped leaf package that he had prepared earlier and hands it to you. “Fruit. Eat.”

You take the wrapped fruit from him and peer at it with curiosity, poking at it with your small fingers. You seem pleased, and take a breath before lifting your mask so you can pop the fruit in your mouth before replacing it.

“It’s good,” You say, smiling, before tilting your head up at him with a faux-innocent expression. “So, do I get to see you all oiled up and wrestling some other super muscly man?”

That makes him chuckle, and he reaches out to stroke a single finger over the top of your head. “Would you like to see that?”

“Oh yeah,” You hum, and your grin behind your mask is unmistakably suggestive. “Definitely.”

His own grin grows sharp, and he bends on one knee so that he can be at eye-level with you. “I can oil myself up and show you wrestling later, after eclipse.”

That makes you laugh, tilting your head back with delight. “Oh, that’s so corny.”

He has no idea what that means, corny, but you look happy so it must be a good thing. He leans down and kisses the top of your head before straightening up. From behind, he can hear some of the younger warriors in training begin to call his name.

He gives you one last lingering look before turning and making his way towards the others.

Training takes the better half of the afternoon.

He demonstrates spear throwing techniques, he corrects postures and methods, he shouts criticisms and praises by turn. Every so often he glances towards you, mostly out of habit – you have pulled out your little book at some point, and are making notes again. Every single time, without fail, you look up as though you feel his eyes on you. And every time, you beam at him and his heart stumbles a little in his chest. Burying his reactions as best he can in front of his fellow warriors, the most Tsu’tey allows himself is the flick of a single ear.

When they finally do get to hand to hand training, he sees you visibly perk up and his ego inflates significantly. It is so very gratifying to be able to train and show off in front of you, especially when he successfully overcomes his opponents.

He can feel your watchful eyes on him all the time, pushing him harder and harder as he wrestles with warrior after warrior. The young ones in training watch on too, eager to learn, but the only gaze he truly cares about is yours.

Eventually, he takes a break from tumbling around the square that had been cleared off specifically for training and steps to the side so that he can observe some of the young ones in training practice their form. While he attempts to focus on calling out constructive criticism, he can’t stop his eyes from darting towards you occasionally.

Though your notebook is splayed out front of you, you are making no effort at all to hide the fact that you’re watching him. His chest is heaving and a thin layer of sweat coats his body, and he can feel the weight of your stare dropping slowly over the length of him. It makes him feel hot and itchy, and he has to fight to keep himself from marching right over to you and doing something very stupid indeed.

He is so distracted by your stare that he almost doesn’t notice when one of the other warriors sidles up to him. It is Takuk, and he is watching him with an amused sort of expression.

“Brother,” He greets him, offering the customary gesture of respect. “You are distracted today.”

His statement is nothing but the truth, but Tsu’tey bristles anyway. Takuk had been a hunter trainee not too long ago himself, but has developed into a man in the last year; he has claimed an ikran, he wears a battle band around his waist, but he has not yet taken a mate. Tsu’tey dislikes the way he is looking at you, considering you are already claimed.

“I am not distracted.” Tsu’tey lies through his teeth. His tone is sharp enough that he hopes it will dissuade Takuk from this line of conversation.

Takuk just hums, clearly unconvinced. He has grown irritatingly confident since his iknimaya. He looks over to where you’re sitting; you’ve lowered your head once more to scribble in your book, and Takuk takes the opportunity to squint at you.

“What is it like, being with one of them?” He asks, casting a slant-eyed glance back at Tsu’tey. “Is she not too… small?”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes around his ankles, though he keeps his expression carefully contained. He is proud to be mated to you, but he does not like questions like this. He does not like to think that Takuk is imagining you like that.

“She is small,” He acknowledges, his voice clipped. “But not too small.”

It is enough to answer his question without giving him details, but Takuk grins as though what he has said is much more revealing than it truly is. When he looks back over in your direction again, Tsu’tey tenses.

Takuk notices, and sighs. “Brother, I am only asking. We are curious about your mate. You are so protective of her.”

Tsu’tey rolls his shoulders, considering. This is not untrue. The curiosity of his people is blatant, and mostly harmless; perhaps he has been too protective, but he has always been a private man.

“It works.” He says at last. It feels a little as though the words are being pulled from him by force. “She is small, and strange, but it works.”

Takuk’s ears twitch forwards in amusement, but he wisely decides not to make a smart comment.

“Even though she cannot make tsaheylu?” He wonders, low and quiet.

Ah. So that is the source of all their curiosity. Tsu’tey supposes he cannot blame them for that. It is a most unusual relationship he has with you, after all. Tsaheylu is the building block of all life on Pandora, and it is how every living creature interacts with the world around them. To have taken a mate that is unable to make this bond would be almost unthinkable to many Na’vi. Tsu’tey supposes he cannot blame them for that morbid curiosity – it would have been unthinkable for him once, too.

“Even though she cannot make tsaheylu.” Tsu’tey confirms quietly. “She sees me anyway.”

Takuk is thoughtfully silent at that, which Tsu’tey is mercifully grateful for. That was a little too vulnerable for his tastes, and he ends up clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders in an attempt to regain some of his authority.

“Back to training.” He says firmly, reaching out to push at Takuk’s head. “No more making eyes at my mate.”

Takuk just laughs, his ears twitching with good humour. “It is not me you need to tell, brother,” He says, before tilting his head pointedly in your direction. “It is the trainees that are so curious about her.”

Tsu’tey follows his gaze. Sure enough, you are no longer alone in your spot at the side of the training grounds. Several of the hunter trainees are crouched near you, watching you with big curious eyes as you chat to one of the young Na’vi that has been bold enough to creep forward. It is At’u, one of the foremost young men in training.

Tsu’tey’s ears flatten when he sees the way At’u’s tail is coiling. It is the universal signal of interest among their kind, and the audacity of the younglings infuriate him.

Without waiting another moment, Tsu’tey strides your way. He can hear Takuk starting to laugh from behind him, but he ignores him; he is precision-focused on you and the jumped up little shits around you.

When At’u reaches out to touch the hair on your head, Tsu’tey’s vision goes black around the edges. Anger bubbles up in his chest; curiosity is one thing, but having the insolence to touch you right in front of Tsu’tey’s eyes is another thing.

When Tsu’tey reaches you, you look up at him with a smile. He doesn’t return it; he’s too busy levelling a dark glare At’u’s way, his ears flat and tail held low. The youngling’s tail coils low in response, but he does not move away from you.

Tsu’tey hisses at him, baring his sharp teeth as he rounds on the rest of the trainees. They scatter almost instantly, scrambling to flee back to the training area. At’u flees too, flinching hard before following after his friends.

“Tsu’tey!” You hiss at him, visibly horrified. “That was so rude! They were only curious-”

He’s still glaring at the backs of the young trainees as he crouches down in front of you, but after a moment he turns to look at you. Your brows are scrunched, your eyes flared a little in outrage as you scowl at him. Oh, you look angry with him. It’s more adorable than you probably mean it to be.

“They do not know their place.” He mutters, scooching a little closer to you.

“They’re children!” You protest, rolling your eyes.

“They are training to be hunters and warriors.” Tsu’tey grumbles. As cute as you are when you’re angry, he doesn’t like being on the receiving end of it. “They know what they’re doing. They will be eligible to pick a mate after iknimaya.”

That makes you pause, and your eyes flicker carefully over his face.

“Are you…” You begin slowly. “Are you jealous? They’re going to pick Na’vi mates. Besides, I already have a mate.”

Warm satisfaction pools in his chest, and he scooches closer to you yet again. Something deep within him eases now that you’re within arms reach.

“Did you not see the way they were twitching their ears at you?” He murmurs, brow furrowing. You hesitate, and his tail lashes in agitation. “I knew it! You do not even see how they act-”

“Oh, hush,” You sigh, reaching out to pet the side of his face. “You’re being silly. Why would I want anyone else when I have a big handsome beefcake like you, huh?”

Tsu’tey has no idea what beefcake is, but you sound pleased when you say it so he imagines it is a good thing.

Your thumb strokes over his cheek, and then you frown and reach out to wipe under his nose. “You’re bleeding.”

He had received an elbow to the face at some point during hand to hand combat, but it feels only mildly tender now. Still though, when you begin smoothing away the blood with your thumb he leans into your hands. It feels good to be cared for.

“Does it hurt?” You wonder, peering closer as you try to assess the damage.

“No,” Tsu’tey snorts, a little offended. How weak do you think he is? But then you start to pull away, taking your little hands away from his face, and he’s quick to add, “A little. Will you care for me later?”

That makes you laugh, and his ears wiggle smugly when you lean forward to bump your forehead against his.

“Yes,” You whisper, grinning up at him. “I’ll take real good care of you.”

His tail thumps off the ground, his mouth beginning to curl in an eager smile. Your eyes are lingering around his sweat-slick chest and your thumb strokes over his bloodied nose, gentle over his bruised skin. He fights the urge to lean in further into your grasp, though it’s difficult.

“You watched me train?”

You huff a soft laugh. “Of course. Couldn’t tear my eyes away. You looked good, big guy.”

Tsu’tey swears he feels his whole heart thump heavily in his chest. There is a bone-deep satisfaction that settles over him at the confirmation that you see him as someone worthy, a good mate. It soothes the edges of his jagged pride and makes him feel whole.

“I am happy to have pleased you,” He murmurs sincerely, tucking his ears low as he meets your eyes. Your eyes soften, and you brush the last remnants of blood from his nose before taking your hand back. “Would you like to watch further?”

You hum in thought for a moment, before shrugging. “I think I’ll head back to the kelku. I wanted to cross-check some notes I took today with my other research.”

Tsu’tey has never been able to make much sense of your science talk, but he inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Then I will meet you back at home, ma’yawntutsyìp.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Tsu’tey’s feels as though he’s crawling out of his skin. He runs through the rest of his duties on autopilot, offering criticism and compliments by turns to the young warriors and hunters throughout the day, but his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of you the whole time.

It’s a struggle to stay focused. He keeps thinking of your eyes tracing over his chest and stomach, of your soft hands on his face, of your coy promise to take care of him later. It feels almost physically painful to force himself to finish out training with the others, but he pushes himself anyway.

It’s nearing evening when he finally begins to finish up, delivering his last few instructions to the young hunters as they begin to ready themselves to return to the village. He’s antsy, watching impatiently as the young ones push and laugh at each other.

When Takuk approaches him again, he has to fight not to roll his eyes – he has picked up too many of your little human mannerisms already.

“Your aim has improved.” Tsu’tey grunts, preoccupied with slinging his bow back over his shoulder.

Takuk perks up, visibly pleased with the compliment. He inclines his head in thanks, before leaning his weight casually back on one leg as he watches Tsu’tey pack up. He’s no doubt noticing that he’s moving with an unusual sense of urgency.

“Your mate is waiting for you, hm?” He asks, his mouth twitching.

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes in warning. He doesn’t like Takuk’s teasing tone, but he can’t help the anticipation that’s building in his stomach at the thought of getting back to you after your teasing throughout the day.

“Yes,” Tsu’tey grunts. “I will bring her fruit.”

Takuk nods, clearly approving, before looking to his feet. He appears to be thinking, and Tsu’tey waits as patiently as he can for him to speak again.

“I am thinking of taking a mate soon,” The young warrior says at last, still keeping his gaze low. “Do.. Do you think that Kaey’ra would have me?”

Tsu’tey pauses to give his question some thought. “Yes. I think she would. It would be a good match.”

Takuk’s shoulders loosen, and his ears rotate forward in satisfaction. It is a confidence booster for Tsu’tey too – it is nice to have his opinion so valued by one of his past students, now a peer. He is happy for his friend, and Tsu’tey claps him on the shoulder.

“I must plan a courting display,” Takuk murmurs, his brow lowering thoughtfully. “I will-”

He cuts himself off, staring somewhere behind Tsu’tey’s shoulder. Frowning, Tsu’tey turns to follow his gaze only to be met with the sight of one of the young warriors approaching him with his tail tucked low between his legs.

“Ma’Tsu’tey,” He greets, his ears flattened anxiously against his head. “I am sorry-”

“What.” Tsu’tey interrupts, his eyes narrowing. The sight of the youngling all twisted and anxious leaves a bad feeling settling into his stomach. “What is it?”

The youngling looks as though he would rather be anywhere else other than right there. “It’s just.. Your mate is-”

Tsu’tey’s stomach plummets to his feet, and he takes a step forward. His teeth bare without conscious thought. “Where is she?”

The young hunter flinches, but to his credit he doesn’t step back. “She is with tsahìk-”

It feels as though Tsu’tey’s brain has been filled with static panic. He’s hardly aware of turning away from the warriors and racing away, his feet pounding hard against the ground as he shoulders his way past the young trainees that are still lingering around the training area.

The only reason for you to be with Mo’at is that you are injured, and the thought fills Tsu’tey with a bone-deep, nauseating fear. He was only apart from you for a few hours at most – how could you have gotten hurt in such a short space of time? He thinks of your fragile bones, your thin skin, your diminutive stature; he knows that the answer is all too easily.

He can’t help himself from conjuring up worst-case scenarios – he imagines you broken and bleeding, unconscious, crying from pain, calling for him when he’s too far away to hear you. He feels sick as he reaches the village, making a beeline for the tsahìk’s hut.

“Move,” He snarls at someone who walks across his path. He’s blind with panic, hardly even sees who he’s snarling at. They jump out of his way as he storms past, practically diving his way towards the tsahìk’s home.

Usually, Tsu’tey prides himself on his grace and agility. He has always been the best warrior in the clan, and one of the most decorated hunters – his training has left him swift and dextrous. And yet now he finds himself stumbling, acting like a fear-stricken fool as he ducks his way into the hut.

Mo’at doesn’t even glance up at his unceremonious entrance, though you do. You’re perched carefully in the corner, with the tsahìk hunched over you as she carefully wraps your forearm with plant-fibre bandages. The whole space smells like the medicinal herbs used for healing – he guesses that she’s spread healing paste over you.

Something loosens in his chest at the sight of you unbloodied and conscious, though he doesn’t relax just yet.

“Oh, shit.” You sigh when you see him, before offering him a weak little smile.

“What has happened?” He demands, ducking his way under the dried herbs hanging from the woven ceiling as he makes his way towards you.

Mo’at still doesn’t look away from her work. “Where are your manners, Tsu’tey?”

Her tone is sharp enough to chasten him, but he does not relent completely. He comes to a stop over Mo’at’s shoulder and attempts to lean over her in an attempt to see what she’s doing, his tail whipping anxiously around his feet.

When he spots your arm, he makes a wounded sort of noise. Your wrist is all swollen, and if he looks closely he can see the beginning of discolouration around the joint as it begins to bruise. He ends up dropping to his knees beside you. In his haste, he almost pushes Mo’at aside, oblivious to the sharp look she sends his way.

“What happened, ma’muntxate?” He demands, reaching out to take your wrist in his hand so he can get a better look.

Mo’at knocks his hand away with a resounding slap before hissing a sharp warning at him. “Do not touch while I am bandaging!”

“Is it broken?” He asks, whirling to face the tsahìk. His tail curls around your thigh, squeezing tight as he seeks reassurance in the form of your soft, warm flesh.

“It’s fine-” You start to say, but Tsu’tey isn’t listening to your attempts at placating him.

“It is a sprain.” Mo’at says. Her tone implies that she is sick of dealing with him already, but he pays her no mind.

“How did this happen?” He asks yet again, shuffling forward on his knees so that the bulk of his body is curling around you. There is no danger here in Mo’at’s tent, but it makes him feel better when he hunches protectively around you.

“It’s no big deal,” You say quickly, clearly attempting damage control. “I just- I fell, and I landed a little awkwardly-”

“Fell where?”

That makes you pause, and Tsu’tey’s expression flattens as he waits for your answer.

“Um.. The ladder,” You murmur, glancing down at your lap. “The ladder that leads to the kelku. I slipped climbing up it, and fell. But it wasn’t from very high.”

He hadn’t thought it possible, but he feels his stomach sink even further at that. Fuck, it was his fault. The vine ladder he had woven for you was only meant to be a temporary measure to help you climb up into your shared kelku in the high trees until he could get around to building a more permanent solution. He had considered the possibility of you falling, but never seriously – not even children would fall so easily.

He must look stricken somehow, because your own face begins to contort in response.

“It was my fault,” You say hurriedly. “I wasn’t paying proper attention, and I slipped. I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

He lets out a soft, low sound, before shaking his head. His jaw is clenched tight. What a stupid mistake for him to make. His tiny soft mate, so frail and weak. He should have known that the ladder was too risky for you to be climbing up and down. Only a sprain; he is so lucky that it was only a sprain. What would he have done if it was something worse?

Mo’at clicks her tongue, then sits back and surveys her handiwork. It’s as neat and meticulous as ever, the bandages wrapped tight around your injured wrist.

“There,” Mo’at says simply. “Rest it. It will be just fine in a few days.”

Tsu’tey hardly hears her at all. He’s too busy staring at the bandages, pale green against your bruised skin. This should never have happened. He’s meant to protect you, to keep you safe. That’s what he had promised you. What kind of mate is he, if he can’t even provide a safe way for you to enter the home he had offered you?

He’s pulled out of his cycle of self-flagellation by Mo’at swatting ungently at his head.

“Take your mate and leave,” She says, shooting him an unimpressed look. “No sulking. Just watch after her.”

“Yes, tsahìk.” He says quietly, inclining his head towards her out of respect.

When he turns back to you, you’re already watching him with big, guilty eyes. That only makes him feel worse – why should you feel guilty, when it is him that has failed you?

“Come, ma’yawne,” He murmurs, reaching out to hold you. “I will take you home.”

You open your mouth, no doubt to be stubborn and protest that you can walk yourself, or some other such nonsense, but he doesn’t wait to give you the chance. He just tucks his arms under your back and legs and hauls you up into his arms, holding you close to his chest as he stands.

With one last murmured thanks to Mo’at, he carries you right out of the hut and back into the evening light.

Tsu’tey is willing to admit that over the next few days, he is a little more… vigilant than usual.

“Tsu’tey, seriously,” You complain. “It’s a sprained wrist, it’s nothing!”

He doesn’t justify that with a response. Your injury is not nothing. It is a representation of his failure as a mate, and it hurts his pride to look at the bandages for too long. All he can do is commit himself to ensuring that something like this never happens again.

He brings you food and water in bed, he offers you gifts of books and the silly little glowing pads he manages to bully out of the tawtute in the human science encampment, and he makes sure the kelku is more cushioned and comfortable than ever before. His aim is to make sure that you have everything you need right there in your home, so that you won’t have to leave again – at least, not until he has finished safe-guarding the sloping rope bridge he is attempting to build for you.

Even now, your legs dangle from the edge of the kelku’s entrance as you watch him work on the wide branch below. You’re secure where you are, your hands holding tight to the edge of the tree branch that your legs hang from, but Tsu’tey keeps stealing looks up at you every couple of moments to ensure that you’re still there.

Around the twentieth time he glances up at you, you roll your eyes and meet his gaze with a challenging stare.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You ask, swinging your legs in the air. “It’s a nice day, and I haven’t been out in ages.”

Tsu’tey grunts, but doesn’t answer properly. His tail curls as he weaves another section of his makeshift rope bridge; it will be narrow and a little precarious, but he is certain it will be a better solution than the ladder you had fallen from.

From above, you click your tongue in dissatisfaction. “I know what you’re doing.”

He slants a glance up at you, lips pursed. Once again, he says nothing. Knowing you, you’re not finished speaking yet anyway.

Sure enough, his silence only seems to irritate you.

“I’m not staying up here forever, you know.” You say insistently, and Tsu’tey tenses when you lean forward to get a better look at him as he works on the branch below you. “I know you’re angry at me for getting hurt, but it’s only a sprained wrist and it’s not like-”

“I am not angry.” Tsu’tey interrupts, though he can’t manage to meet your eyes. His ears are pinned to the sides of his head; is that really what you think?

You let out a clearly frustrated noise. “You’ve hardly spoken to me for days. All you do is work on this stupid bridge-”

He finally looks up at that, lip curling in annoyance as he squints up to you. The rope bridge is admittedly rudimentary, but it’s for you. It’s true that he hasn’t been as demonstrative with his affections as usual for the past couple of days, but you’ve been injured. He couldn’t even think of touching you when you’re hurt – the remnants of bruising around your wrist makes him feel that sense of failure every time he catches sight of them.

When he fails to verbally respond yet again, you scowl at him. “Are you just not going to talk to me?”

At that, he sighs. “What do you want me to say?”

You set your jaw and glare for a second, before promptly shoving yourself to your feet. Tsu’tey tenses once more as you stand, so nerve-wrackingly close to the edge of the kelku, before you turn on your heel and march back inside.

Once you’re gone, Tsu’tey allows his shoulders to drop. Damn. He probably could have handled that better – communication has never been his strong suit. He’s never really felt the compulsion to explain himself or his thinking to anyone before, and now he finds himself at a loss for how to approach his feelings with you.

You think that he’s angry with you, which is absolutely untrue. Are you angry with him? Fuck.

Sighing, he finishes one last knot in the rope he was working on before dropping it. He needs to sort this out.

It only takes one jump for him to catch the edge of the kelku with his hands, and then he hauls himself up with ease. Part of the reason that he had been so startled when he realised you had been injured climbing the tree was because it was something that should have been so easy, something that just came naturally to the Omaticaya. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might have been possible for you to fall so easily.

When he steps inside the kelku, he spots your little form curled up on the woven rug atop the cushy leaves he had padded the wooden floor with. You’re holding one of the glowing pad things that the tawtute are always tapping away on, although you don’t appear to be reading anything off it – it seems more like you’re simply staring fixedly at it in an effort to avoid meeting his stare.

He moves slowly towards you, tail held low in as non-threatening a manner as he can manage. You don’t look up, though he can see the way your eyes slide subtly toward him. When he kneels down by your side, you’re forced to raise your gaze towards him.

“I do not mean to upset you, Säsrätx,” He murmurs, his voice low as he bends his head towards you. He does not want you to be angry with him – the thought curdles in his stomach.

You take a slow inhale through your nose, the breath fogging lightly against the clear material of your breathing mask before dissipating.

“I’m not made of glass, big guy,” You mumble, glancing back down at your hands. “You can’t treat me like a kid just because I got a minor injury.”

Tsu’tey makes a soft grumbling noise in the back of his throat, but doesn’t argue. You’ve never been annoyed at him like this, and he’s surprised by how much he doesn’t like it. He’s never been one to put too much stock in the opinion of others, but this is different. You are his mate, and he doesn’t want to make anything worse.

He adjusts his stance so that he’s crouched at your side, his much bigger body curling over yours as he looms over you. You’re just so small, it makes his palms itch. He hasn’t touched you properly in days, so afraid that he’ll make your injuries worse, but now he’s finding it difficult to keep his hands to himself.

You must be thinking the same thing, because your gaze drifts from his face down over his shoulders and chest, lingering around his woven necklaces and his battle waistband. Tsu’tey preens a little under your eyes, his chest puffing out a little.

“You should not have been hurt like this,” He murmurs, reaching out for your hand. “The kelku should have been safe for you. This was my fault.”

You just sigh, and shake your head. “Don’t be stupid. It was an accident. These things happen.”

Tsu’tey grunts unhappily. He’s too busy peering carefully at your wrist; your wrist and hand look so fragile in his much larger palm, and his lips press together tight as he strokes a careful thumb over the lingering discolouration on your skin. The bruises are almost gone, but he can still see the faint traces remaining.

“I have waited a long time to take a mate and have a family of my own,” He murmurs without looking up at your face. He tilts his head, a wry sort of smirk beginning to grow on his face. “I did not expect it would be with a tawtute, but I would not change things. I have lost too much over the years – I could not take it if something happened to you.”

Your expression wobbles, and then you toss your little piece of technology aside and push yourself up to your knees.

“Tsu’tey,” You whisper, eyes turning soft. “It was only a sprained wrist.”

His tail lashes, but he ducks his head down towards you so that you can cup his face in your little palms. Some of the restlessness in his chest begins to settle now that he has your hands holding his cheeks.

“I do not want you to think less of me as a mate.” He says quietly, reaching up to lay his palm flat over one of your hands on his cheek. “I should have ensured you had a safe way of entering our kelku-”

“Less of you?” You interrupt, choking out a laugh. “Are you kidding? I thought that you would think I was a total skxawng for falling like that. I had literally been promising you earlier that day that I would look after you, and then I ended up hurt like an idiot.”

Tsu’tey just makes a soft, rumbly noise in his chest in an effort to soothe you. To his relief it seems to work, and you relax into his chest.

“You can take care of me when you are better.” He says, his lips pulling up into a little smirk. It is something he looks forward to.

You hum, tilting your head back so you can look him in the eye with a coy grin. “I’m better now, big guy.”

Tsu’tey starts to snort, to pull back with an eyeroll, but to his surprise you continue grasping at his hand. When he blinks at you, he finds you staring up at him with a determined sort of look about you.

“I mean it,” You whisper, eyes all liquid and pleading. “My arm is fine, Mo’at said so. You haven’t touched me in days.”

Tsu’tey pauses at that. He looks at you properly; behind your breathing mask, your eyelashes are longer and darker than usual, and your lips are glossier. He recognises the traces of what you call makeup, and his ears twitch backwards in surprise. He knows that you wear this when you’re trying to catch his attention, and a little jolt of realisation rockets through him as he looks at you.

“Oh,” He breathes, reaching out to capture your jaw in one hand. “I see. My little mate feels neglected, is that it?”

Your cheeks grow hot in his hand, your eyes flickering away in an attempt to avoid eye contact. Despite your plea for him to touch you, now you appear flustered.

“Yes.” You whine, tilting your head into his hand. Despite your embarrassment, you manage to appear semi-confident when you finally raise your chin to look at him. “I want you to touch me.”

The edge of your breathing mask digs into his palm, and he starts to grin as he winds his long fingers into your hair. Oh, that soothes his wounded pride. Despite his mistake with the ladder, you still want him.

He ducks his head and presses a kiss to your neck, humming in satisfaction when you tilt your head back immediately to allow him access to your throat. Tsu’tey lets out a soft breath, and reaches for your waist so he can pull you into his lap. You go eagerly, clambering onto his thighs with a grin. You’re just so pliable, so trusting and needy. As soon as you’re settled in his lap, you start to grind yourself down against the growing stiffness beneath his tewng.

He lets out a quiet, surprised little huff. You really do want him to touch you, and your eagerness rushes straight to his head. He really has been neglecting you if you’re reacting like this just from a simple little neck kiss.

“I will make you feel good, ma’yawntutsyìp.” He promises – he is determined to make up for the last few days of distance between you, and he wants so desperately to taste you.

But when he begins to kiss his way down your chest, your belly, towards your thighs, your fingers weave into the roots of his hair and you tug lightly to stop him.

“As nice as your mouth would be,” You breathe, your mouth curving into a grin. “I said I’d make you feel good, didn’t I?”

His ears twitch, and he tilts his head as he eyes you carefully. You look earnest, but he’s not sure if he understands. You do not want him to use his mouth on you? Why not?

When he doesn’t make any immediate moves, you appear to take initiative yourself. You reach out to take his hand in your much smaller one, and pull it down beneath the hem of the little tewng that had been specially made for you. When his fingers make contact with the wet heat of your cunt, he goes stock still.

“You…” He starts, his brow furrowing as his fingers slide along the slickness between your legs.

He dips one finger inside, awed by how easily it slips in. It seems like you’re already all stretched out, far wetter than natural – he recognises the texture of the tawtute-made liquid you used on occasion to make the size of him easier to take. Lube, you call it. He slips another finger in, and you moan softly at the slide of it.

“You are ready.” Tsu’tey rumbles in surprise, his fingers twitching inside you.

“I’ve been ready for days,” You complain, dropping your head against his shoulder as you move your hips, attempting to get his fingers working deeper. “Waiting for you to get over your stupid worry and just fuck me.”

That just about sends him over the edge entirely. You had prepared yourself for him just to save time with stretching? The thought of you walking around the kelku for days, all sloppy and dripping down your legs as you wait for him to emerge from his brooding mood and please you sends his thoughts scattering. Fuck. How could he have been so preoccupied with his stupid rope bridge when you were sitting waiting for him to pay attention to you?

“I will fuck you,” He breathes, nuzzling at your jaw eagerly. The human term is harsh on his tongue, but he enjoys the coarseness of it.

“Don’t be gentle.” You blurt, still writhing against the bulge beneath his tewng and sending zings of pleasure shooting up his spine. “Fuck me like you mean it. I won’t break.”

Tsu’tey lets out a soft hiss. Well. What kind of a man would he be if he did not obey his little mate’s orders?

Though you have been making demands, it still seems to surprise you when he launches into movement. He grips your hips and flips you around – it’s a quick movement, and it takes you a moment to regain your bearings when you find yourself on your hands and knees on the soft leaves he’s padded the kelku’s bouncy floor with.

“Fuck, yes.” You breathe, guessing where he’s going with this immediately. You arch your back, pushing your ass back eagerly into his hands as he unties your tewng and tosses it aside.

Tsu’tey bears his teeth in a grin, lowering his face to lay a hot, biting kiss between your shoulderblades.

“Needy girl,” He rumbles, groping at your ass as his thumbs roll around your puffy, slick pussy and pull you apart so that he can admire the sticky strands of arousal that drip from you. “You are so swollen here. My poor, neglected little mate. I will make this up to you.”

When brushes his fingers through the puffy lips of your cunt and then pushes inside, you can't quite stifle the whine that escapes you. It drives him crazy. You’re still squirming even on your hands and knees beneath him, and Tsu’tey hunches over you so he can plaster his big chest over your back.

His erection presses thick and heavy against your ass. He grinds into you at the same time as he reaches around and rubs quick, tight circles into your clit. You practically choke, alternating between pushing back into his erection which is laid flushed and hot between your thighs, and pushing forward into his hand, which is still toying with your pussy.

“Come on then, big guy,” You say, your voice wavering slightly as he rubs at your clit. “Stop telling me how good you can fuck me and actually do it.”

That makes Tsu’tey snicker into the hot skin of your neck. Oh, how he can’t wait to fulfill the orders of his bossy little mate.

Grinning, he reaches out and places a hand on the back of your neck before exerting gentle pressure to push you down onto the padded floor. You go willingly, until you’re face down and ass up in a position that has Tsu’tey’s mouth watering. He can smell your arousal, so sweet and dizzying as you lay exposed and waiting for him.

You crane your neck around so that you can see him as he eyes your arched back and exposed behind eagerly. You look flustered, but your eyes are still challenging as you watch him and wait for his next move.

“So impatient, ma’tawtute,” He rumbles, amused.

He smooths a hand over your waist and down over your hip and ass. A quick, open-palmed smack is delivered to the soft, squishy flesh of your ass, and you rock forward with a choked gasp. He was careful to control the pressure he used, but even still the hint of force makes your soft cunt flutter around nothing.

“Come on, big guy,” You gasp, laying your cheek flat against the padded floor as you push your ass back towards him eagerly. “Come on, come on-”

With you all spread out and wet and begging beneath him, his self-control crumbles. He tears off his tewng and grabs at his cock, stroking it with a growled rumble before rubbing the sensitive tip against the slick folds of your cunt.

You’re gasping already, before he even begins to press inside, and he can’t help but feel impossibly endeared by your stubborn nature. Look at you – so determined and eager to take him.

When he does begin to push inside, you drop your head down to the padded floor and moan, clearly just short of overwhelmed. You’re so tight, Tsu’tey swears he nearly blacks out. He pushes in slowly, his front plastered to your little back as one of his arms reaches under your stomach to support you. The two of you are breathing heavily; you from the struggle of accepting his size inside you, and him from the vice-like grip of your cunt.

“Breathe and relax, my small mate,” He grunts, squeezing his eyes tight as he nuzzles into your shoulder. “You are taking me so well.”

You do as he says unthinkingly, gasping a breath and forcing yourself to relax as he presses inside of you inch by excruciating inch. You can't seem to decide if you want him to hurry up and get it over with or go slow and gentle, and you keep alternating between twitching back on his cock and flinching away from it. Tsu’tey, however, is careful to keep a very medium pace; he pushes evenly and steadily until he's seated inside of you, hunched over your back, and then pauses to let you adjust.

As you tremble, face pressed into the floor as your pussy flutters frantically around his cock, Tsu’tey presses soft, insistent kisses all around your back and shoulders. It feels as though you’re trying to squeeze his cock right off, and he grunts a moan into the soft flesh of your bare back as you finally begin to ease up around him.

Then, finally, he begins to move.

"Fuck!" You gasp, squirming a little as he starts up at a steady pace.

When his hands come down to grip your hips and keep you in place, you grab at the leaf-padded floor, fingers scrabbling for purchase as the thrusting of his hips rocks your whole body forward.

He's barely started fucking you at all, but Tsu’tey’s thoughts are already scattered and his body feels like it's close to overheating already. There’s something about seeing you so hungry for him that sends him wild – he’s never taken you from behind before, but the view of your ass stuck up in the air as your cunt sucks him so greedily makes his head spin.

"You feel so good," Tsu’tey murmurs into the side of your throat before biting at it, "So tight around me. Oh, fuck, that's it."

Each thrust pushes you further up the floor, until you’re forced to stop grabbing at the leaf-padding and instead to reach behind you and grab at one of his hands. He takes your hand eagerly, wrapping your odd little five-fingered hand in his own four-fingered one and pinning it to the floor as his other hand uses your hip to pull you back into him. You moan quite happily as you bury your face into the leaf-padding as he fucks you into the floor.

It doesn’t take long before you’re pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts as best you can, and he bares his teeth at the sight beneath him. You’re just adorable – you glance over your shoulder and smile dazedly as you tighten up around him. He makes a soft sound of pleasure and wraps his arm firmly around your stomach to keep you close to him.

“Come on, ma’yawne,” He rumbles, nipping lightly at the juncture of your bare shoulder as you shudder beneath him. “Talk to me.”

You manage an embarrassingly breathless little moan in response, and Tsu’tey snorts a wild sort of laugh. It feels a little as though he's coming apart at the seams. Tsu’tey is big, a fact which is apparently emphasised even further in this position, and it's overwhelming but it's so good — you feel so delightfully perfect, all wrapped around him like a vice as he fills you up.

He must be hitting a spot inside you that makes your legs go weak, because your jaw is slack and you keep making senseless little gasping sounds as you go limp as he fucks into you. It’s so sweet that he thinks momentarily about relenting, but you had asked for this. You did not want him to be gentle, not tonight.

"I didn't hear you." He says, a warning in his voice. His fingers weave into the roots of your hair and fist at the base of your skull, before he pulls your head back so that your face is no longer buried in the floor. “I want to hear you talk to me, my girl.”

"Oh, fucking goddamn shit-" You manage to choke out. His hand pulling your hair has somehow caused you to go semi-boneless as he fucks into you.

He picks up his pace, his hips rolling into yours so that your breath is catching in your chest and your eyes are rolling wildly. When his hand slips under you to start playing with your clit, you make a soft, broken-sounding moan and throw your head back eagerly.

Tsu’tey is so close to coming that his head is actually swimming, his thoughts slow as molasses as every nerve and synapse tunes into you beneath him so that the only thing he can actually focus on is the feel of you gasping and writhing below. He has always taken mating with you seriously, but right now it feels as though his only purpose is touching and stroking and fucking you so good that you forget everything other than him.

“Oh god,” You wheeze, your little hand squeezing tight around his fingers as his other hand uses his grip on your hips to pull you back into his thrusts. “Oh god, oh god, oh god-”

He recognises that frantic edge to your voice, and he bares his teeth in pleasure as he realises just how close you are to coming. His balls slap against your clit with every thrust, and he can feel the way they begin to tighten and draw up as his thrusts get faster. He’s close himself, his teeth practically buzzing with his oncoming orgasm, but he clenches his jaw as he attempts to hold it off. He wants so desperately to come inside you, but only after he’s experienced you creaming and squealing around his cock.

He adjusts his angle just slightly, but it's enough to have you dropping bonelessly back to the floor as you gasp.

"Fuck, there, don't stop!"

He snickers, though it trails off into a winded sort of snarl. His bossy, demanding little demon of a mate. Your orders only make his cock harder, and he lets out a whole body rumble as he feels his cock start to pulse inside your soft, wet, tight insides. He needs you to come now, before he completely loses his mind.

“Come, ma’yawntutsyìp, my precious one,” He grunts, leaving nipping kisses along the length of your spine. “I want to feel your release around me.”

The combination of his cock rubbing and grinding against the soft spongey part inside of you and the messy stimulation of your clit has your legs trembling and pussy quivering wildly. It feels like you’re being strung tighter and tighter under him as your orgasm draws closer and your breath begins coming in rapid pants.

You just manage to get out the words "Oh, yes-!" before the pleasure growing in your belly seems to crest and your back bows as you start to cum. All of the pressure that's been building up in your body is set free with the sweetest release, made all the sweeter by the fact that Tsu’tey keeps rocking into you the whole way through, the heavy head of his cock grinding hard against your G-spot the whole time.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open as your orgasm rocks through you, and Tsu’tey watches with wide eyes and avid interest as your entire little body shudders and shakes beneath him.

“Yes,” He breathes, his whole face contorting in toe-curling pleasure as your cunt clenches and ripples around him. “Yes, my love, so good.”

Your orgasm seems to last forever, leaving your chest heaving and back glittering with sweat, but eventually you reach back and slap at his thigh.

“Turn me around,” You wheeze, sounding winded. “Keep going, I want you to come in me-”

Fuck, how he loves it when you make demands. He doesn’t even wait for you to finish speaking before he pulls out, gripping your hips and flipping you around so that you’re on your back. He pushes back in immediately, snarling out a desperate groan as his cock splits you open all over again, you wrapping him up all snug and tight inside.

One of his hands snakes under your back and curls around your waist to pull you up against him as he pounds into you. With the other arm, he's balanced himself on his forearm beside your head for leverage as he drives into you hard and fast. He is still conscious of your limits, of your soft and fragile little human body, but his head is reeling from the sheer sensation and from the squealing little moans that are escaping your mouth. He’s still careful not to hurt you, but he’s also rolling his hips into your more frantically than he’s ever done before.

When you hike your little legs up over Tsu’tey’s narrow hips and squeeze tight around him, he lets out a rather wrecked, desperate sounding whimper. He drops his head to your chest, shoving the woven chest covering out of the way so that he can suck one of your tits into his mouth, sloppily rolling your nipple around on his tongue and clutching at your ass with one hand when you arch into him.

“Oh, fuck,” You gasp, arching your back so that your breasts are pushed further into his face. Your voice is hoarse — you sound absolutely wrecked. “Oh god, yes, please-”

He's hovering right on the precipice of orgasm — it's obvious by his desperate open-mouthed panting, the way he hunches over as his thrusting starts to turn clumsy, and the way he's messily sucking at your tits.

What really pushes him over the edge, to his honest surprise, is when you moan out, “Fuck, I.. Tsu’tey, I really love you-”

Tsu’tey lets out a choked, desperate groan before dropping his forehead to your breastbone as he comes inside of you. It’s like a wave of white rushes through his mind, wiping everything clean inside his head as he strains desperately against you. The motion of his hips stutters and falters as his brow pinches, and he lets out a long, low moan as he grasps at you, his eyes squeezing shut tight as he feels his cum flood your cunt and overflow, dribbling down your ass.

"Oh." He groans, shivering as his elbows give out and he drops down on top of you so that you’re plastered together from head to toe. He tucks his face into your neck and kisses under your ear, enjoying the heat from your overworked, sweaty bodies while also being hyper-conscious of crushing you.

You’re both covered in a sheen of sweat, which makes your bodies slide slickly together whenever either of you move. Tsu’tey’s hand drifts down over your ass, and he squeezes lazily at the soft, squishy flesh there.

“Are you well, my mate?” He rumbles, still a little dazed as he lifts his head to squint down at you. “Did I- are you hurt?”

You’re staring at the ceiling, mouth softly ajar as you take deep, heaving breaths. His question makes you laugh, though it’s a quiet, breathless little sound.

“No,” You whisper, your mouth curving in a dopy sort of smile. “Only sore in the best way. Fuck, that was good.”

The positive affirmation is exactly what he needed to hear, and he feels his tail begin to sway in slow satisfaction. You had been right, after all – you could take it, and you were not necessarily as delicate as he had feared after your injury. The lazy, contented smile on your face only reassures him further that you are happy and unscathed.

He pulls out carefully, his ears twitching as he leaves your perfect, wet warmth. You hiss at the sensation too, and he rumbles a quiet apology before running the pads of his fingers over your swollen, puffy pussy; his come is dripping slowly out of you, and he rubs absently at the wet white trails to massage it into your skin.

“Bring me to the bed,” You say, though it lacks the demanding edge of the previous requests you had made. You sound sleepy, as though he had entirely worn you out.

His mouth twitches, and he reaches down to scoop you into his arms. You go easily, your head rolling around on your neck as you nuzzle into his chest. To his surprise, his own knees feel a little jelly-like when he moves to stand and put weight on them. Damn, he doesn’t think an orgasm has ever left him reeling like this afterwards.

When he lays you out on the tawtute-style bed he had made for you out of plant fibres and leaves, he crawls up next to you and stretches out, his tail undulating in lazy satisfaction. You roll over and shove your face up against his still glistening chest, burrowing close to him.

“Told you I could take it.” You say. You sound exhausted, but so damn pleased with yourself.

Tsu’tey just laughs, a tired sort of chuckle as he nuzzles his nose into your sweet-smelling hair.

“You take it so well, ma’yawntutsyìp,” He assures you fondly, pressing a little kiss to the top of your small, blunt little ear.

When he takes your hand and pulls it up to his face, he gives a small smile and presses his mouth to the near-invisible remnants of bruising around your wrist. He bares his sharp teeth against your fragile skin as he murmurs, “And I love you too.”

#tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey smut #tsu'tey #avatar wotw #avatar x reader #na'vi x human #na'vi x reader #terato #fics #tsu'tey fic #alien x human #avatar 2 #avatar 2009

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countryclubkook · 7 months

Note

thinking of topper’s gf cheating on him with rafe🤭

Favorite Secret

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Warnings: smut, cheating, mentions of alcohol, violence, blood, creampie, unprotected sex, P in V, not proofread

Summary: Your secret affair with Rafe almost goes terribly wrong when Topper decides to call in the middle of a hookup…almost

A/N: omg hii!! it’s been so so long since i’ve been on this account but I got a new job and a boyfriend🤭 life has been very very busy the last like year or so but I got the urge to write for my fav boy so I hope you guys enjoy this quick little fic🤍 and I hope all of you are well!

“Fuck Rafe, feels so good oh my god” you cried out, arching your back as your eyes rolled back when his cock hit the perfect spot inside of you. It was fucked up, screwing around with your boyfriends best friend, especially when Topper treated you so well. He bought you everything you asked for, took you on nice dates, held the door open, complimented you. Never did anything to hurt you…until that night, until that one party changed everything.

“Ugh come on Top, i’m begging you to just come for like 10 minutes. If you still don’t want to be there after that we can leave and just come back here, watch movies or something” you’d been begging for the last hour, it was the biggest party of the year and his best friend was hosting but he said he was too tired to go. You knew it was actually just because there had been whispers on the island that Sarah planned to crash it with John B and their new pogue friends.

As much as he swore to you he was over it, you know that wasn’t true and you were fine with it. You trusted him, after all you were the one there for him when she broke his heart the first time, having to be the one to pick up the pieces every single time he gave her chance after chance, you knew what it’d done to him and his trust. Having to risk seeing her there with the guy she cheated on him with didn’t exactly sound like such a fun time.

“Listen I love you, but I really would just rather stay in tonight okay babe? There will be many more parties that we can go to in the future” he said, giving you a soft smile and cupping your cheek with his hand. He could see the disappointment on your face and felt bad, you were obviously excited about this and here he was shutting it down over rumors.

“Okay, whatever you want to do” you let out a defeated sigh and nuzzled your cheek closer into his palm, not wanting to argue over something like this. It just wasn’t worth it and you did enjoy nights in with just the two of you, plus he was right, there would be another party by next weekend.

“Damn it” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head slightly, “Okay okay, 10 minutes and that’s it, deal?” he barely got out the last word before you were squealing and throwing your arms around his neck He wrapped his arms around your waist and let out a small laugh, the smile on your face lighting up the whole room.

“Thank you thank you thank you! We’re going to have so much fun okay? You’re not going to want to leave by the time those 10 minutes are up, this is going to be the best night ever” famous. last. words.

Everything was great, the two of you were having the time of your life. Drinking and dancing together, talking with Rafe and a few of your other friends, then you slipped away for five minutes to use the bathroom, 5 minutes. Who knew so much could go wrong in just 5 minutes.

You walked out to see a crowd forming around two people and heard shouting, you’d expected to walk over and see two guys fighting like usual. Both of them far too drunk to even make contact with the other, but instead you saw your boyfriend on top of John B, his fist connecting to his cheek over and over and over again. You didn’t even like the kid but seeing blood and spit fly from his mouth and his gurgled wails of pain made you feel bad and you knew you needed to stop it.

You saw Rafe standing nearby watching, small smirk on his face as his eyes darted from the two boys to his sister begging Topper to stop while she sobbed. You walked up to him and touched his arm to bring his attention to you.

“Y/N! What’s up?” he said it so nonchalantly, like the scene in front of you wasn’t even happening. You knew he hates the pogues, hell you know he’d let John B die right then and there and feel no remorse, but he was the only one you knew had even the slightest chance of stopping it.

“Rafe you have to make them stop, it’s over okay? If you guys wanted to teach them a lesson i think they’ve learned it so can you please make it stop?” you could see him thinking about it, his brows furrowing ever so slightly and eyes going from you to Topper and John B to Sarah and then back to you.

“Mmm, I don’t know Y/N/N…kind of feel like he deserves it don’t you? I mean my slut of a sister cheats on my best friend, your boyfriend, with that good for nothing pogue and then they have the nerve to show up here? To rub it in his face? Why should I stop them?” he cocked his head and gave you a smirk, leaning against the wall with one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around his red solo cup full of god knows what. You knew the only way to convince him was to use the one card you knew would work, the one you hated using against him in all the time you knew him.

“Because you don’t want your dad finding out about it. You’re not even supposed to be throwing parties here, what happens if a pogue ends up dead because of the party and Ward finds out? I couldn’t care less if he dies, i’m just trying to save your ass right now so please” you saw his jaw clench, watched his chest start rising and fall slowly, more heavily than before, and you knew it worked.

“Fuck! Fine, i’ll handle it” he yelled before throwing his cup on the ground and walking over to the two, by this point John B was barely conscious and it’s like Topper was in his own world. Rafe walked over and pulled him off by the collar of his shirt before ushering Sarah to attend to her boyfriend, screaming that the party was over and for everyone to get the fuck out.

People quickly dispersed, whispering to each other about what just happened, until it was just the three of you left at tannyhill. Top was still fuming, veins bulging out, sweat dripping down his forehead, chest rapidly heaving, knuckles bruised and bloody, a crazed look in his eyes. You tried to walk up to him to calm him down but it’s like he couldn’t even see you, he instead turned around and walked to his jeep before getting in and driving away, leaving you stranded.

“What the fuck?!” you screamed, standing at the bottom of the driveway watching the taillights disappear as they got further and further away.

You walked back up to the porch where Rafe was waiting, looking awkwardly at the ground unsure of what to say. What are you supposed to do in this situation other than offer them a ride…or in this case alcohol.

“I’m sorry Y/N, that was shitty of him. Give him some time to cool off and he’ll come back to his senses, if you uh, if you want you could just crash here. I would offer to drive you home but you know…” he said, making a brief gesture to himself “i’m kind of drunk so, don’t really want to risk hurting you. There’s plenty of alcohol if you want to just get drunk and pass out in the guest room, the beds freshly made and I think Sarah still has some clothes here that would fit you.”

“Thank you Rafe, that’s really sweet of you. Do you think you could um, stay with me? Just hang out here and talk, drink a little, I just don’t want to be alone right now” you sounded so pathetic, tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes.

“Yeah, yeah absolutely”

One drink turned into another and then another, the both of you drunk and giggling while you talked. And then it happened, one little glance at his lips in a moment of shared silence, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear, and you were in his lap kissing him. His hands roaming all over your body until you were pulling away to tell him to take you to the bedroom.

Clothes flying, drunken squeals and giggles slipping out between your moans, the way he made you feel, those were the only things you can clearly remember. And then you woke up the next morning staring at his naked chest, but you didn’t feel guilty for it, instead you wanted it to happen again.

And it did, it happened multiple times a week. Topper did apologize, made up for his behavior that night, but you’d already got a taste of Rafe and now you were hooked. He never suspected anything, didn’t notice the little shared glances between the two of you when you all hung out, the way Rafe’s hand would brush against your thighs, his little whispers in your ear that made you squirm, he was just happy you forgave him. You never thought you’d be at risk getting caught until now, when you were on all fours and Rafe was thrusting into you from behind, one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your hip to pull you back into his cock. The both of you were so lost in pleasure that Rafe almost didn’t hear his phone going off, he quickly moved to grab it off the table and answer it.

“Topper, what’s up man?” your eyes widened, panic starting to kick in. You’d thought it was over, he knew, someone had seen something and told him, he put the pieces together, he was calling to tell him he knew.

“Y/N? Yeah she came by to pick something up, said she left it here the last time you guys were over and she had to be out this way anyway. Think she’s still upstairs” you let out a moan when he thrusted back into you unexpectedly, turning your head back to look at him with a bewildered expression. He just gave a a smirk and held his finger to his lips before moving it back to your hip and pulling you back into him to meet each thrust.

You dropped your face into the mattress to muffle any loud moans, pure bliss taking over your body each time Rafe’s cock pressed against that little spot inside your pussy, hoping the call would be over soon. And then the son of a bitch flips you over, puts you on your back and gives you that look. You know, the one that just screams ‘i’m up to no good and you’re about to hate me for this’.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, looking up at him in confusion while trying not to make a sound.

“Actually, she just came down. You wanna talk to her real quick before she finishes up and heads that way?” if looks could kill he’d be six feet under right about now, you shook your head but it was too late, the phone was by your ear and you had no choice.

“Hey baby” it came out shakier than planned and you hoped he wouldn’t question it, it was a lot harder hiding the fact you were cheating on your boyfriend when the man you’re cheating with had his cock buried deep inside your pussy thrusting into you like his life depends on it while on call with said boyfriend.

“Is everything okay? You sound a little winded babe” he was always so concerned, wanting to make sure you were okay at all times if he even suspected something was wrong.

“Better tell him you’re okay princess, don’t let him find out his best friend is balls deep inside his girlfriends pretty pussy” Rafe whispered in your ear, leaving open mouth kisses along your neck and chest.

“Yeah, just a lot of running around the house looking for my ring is a-all” you stuttered out when Rafe pushed all the back into you again, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Okay…well I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight? There’s this really nice restaurant i’ve been wanting to take you to, finally managed to get a reservation, and there was something I wanted to talk to you about” you weren’t even fully listening to what he was saying to be honest, you were paying more attention to how good you felt and the smell of Rafe’s cologne, the way his skin felt against yours, how your bodies seemed to mold together perfectly.

“Yea-yeah babe. Sounds great” you were about to let out a moan when long ring clad fingers found their way into your mouth and you, on instinct, bit down slightly.

“Great! I’ll be at your place to pick you up in like an hour okay? I love you”

“Great! Love you too bye” you quickly got out before hanging up and letting out a moan, digging your nails into Rafe’s back.

“Fuck baby i’m close, you want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cum? Want a little reminder that even if you’re with him, you’ll always be mine?” you could only nod, small whimpers filling the room.

A few more lazy thrusts before he pushed all the way into you and stayed there, feeling his cock twitch while he filled you with his cum. Your pussy clenching around him while you came at the same time, head thrown back and lips parted moaning his name, a white ring forming on his cock from your cum mixing with his. He pulled out after a few seconds and pulled you to your knees before sliding his cock in your mouth.

“Suck it off baby, just clean it up for me” and you did, licking every drop of your cum off his cock before he pulled out and got dressed.

You went to grab something to wipe the cum away when he stopped you.

“Nah, you go on your little date with my cum leaking out of you”

You gave him a dazed look before nodding and throwing your dress back on followed by your shoes, giving him a kiss and heading for the door.

“That was fun Rafe, i’ll call you later okay?”

“I know you will pretty girl, I look forward to it.” the smile on his face was genuine, not one that he had after a meaningless hookup, but one of true happiness. You brought out the best in him and he couldn’t even have you in any way other than this.

“Me too, I better go now. See ya” you were almost out the front door when you heard him yell your name. You turned around to see him leaning in the doorframe of his bedroom, waiting to see what he had to say.

“You’re my favorite secret”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #obx imagine #rafe cameron smut #topper thornton imagine #rafe smut #rafe cameron blurb #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #topper thornton #topper thornton x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks smut #outer banks fic

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cheralith · 7 months

Text

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part iii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, unedited/not beta read as of 2/24

word count ; 8.5k

notes ; we're so back. am i severely late to posting this? very. did i at least get it done after too many months? also yes. i also apologize in advance to those i tagged that are no longer interested in the series, as i merely tagged people that had commented regardless of time. lmk if you no longer want to be tagged in the last part, i promise i won't take offense at all!

parts ; one two three four (tba)

THREE YEARS AGO

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Hara. Please let me assist you at any need possible.”

Miguel peered at you through his reading glasses, averting his attention from his laptop to fully examine the stranger that stood in his office. Dark hazelnut eyes scan the appearance of a young woman dressed in black slacks and an ironed white blouse standing stiffly next to his superiors that eyed him with more eagerness than he liked. He could already tell that you were a shy one, a person that wasn’t too accustomed to the outside world and its people; you stood with stiff posture; it was one that exemplified nerve rather than confidence from the way that you almost seem paralyzed in your place.

Caldworth, one of the superiors that stood by your side, placed a wrinkly and veiny hand on your shoulder and showed you off to him as if you were a painting up for bidding. “We choose a sharp one for you. (Y/N) here is rather attentive, so don’t be shy about letting her get to know you better, Miguel.”

Miguel stayed quiet, still skeptical about this sudden new arrangement for him that was brought up at the last minute. He lacked a certain sort of anticipation that would usually behold anyone else in his position—a new person entering their work life would usually be an exciting, rousing meeting seeing as how it would be a new addition to what the higher-ups would refer to as “family.” A loose term, Miguel often thought… very loose, even. To even have the courage to compare coworkers to something as intimate as family was something that didn’t sit well with Miguel. Blame it on the certain circumstances on his own familial life, but even anyone else that had their brain in the somewhat of the right spot would understand that mere coworkers were nothing compared to family.

At least in his case.

“I’ve greatly admired your work in the past,” you said almost robotically, “so I hope I can be of any help in your future accomplishments—no matter how big or small.”

Miguel cocked his head. He fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at what he began to concur was something scripted via his superiors. Something about your tone of voice seemed… flat; devoid of any actual enthusiasm.

Caldworth and his partner began to see themselves out, leaving him to babysit you. “Well, you two have at it! Maybe go out for a cup of coffee to familiarize yourselves, get to know each other better since you both are essentially going to be around each other all the time,” Caldworth stated, making Miguel twitch from the last part.

Just before they left, Caldworth offered the glint of his eye over his shoulder, the peek of a tight-lipped grin ever so slightly visible.

“And don’t forget, we’re all family here!” he cheered before the slam of a door shut you and Miguel in.

Immediately, Miugel noticed that your shoulders caved inward, indicating that you were finally able to breathe properly without the surveillance of people that were essentially in charge of your life. He eyed you again from the top of his glasses before he took them off and rested them in between his fingers, letting them dangle lazily.

“Did they tell you to say that?”

You jolted in your spot. Nerves seemingly reshocked with the same anxiety from before, you turned yourself to face your new boss again with a much more paled, yet evident expression—wide-eyed, pursed-lipped, gritted jaw—and swallowed thickly. Almost in a shameful manner, you silently nodded your head.

“W-was…” you started, “was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” Miguel murmured simply and closed his laptop. “Don’t listen to what they say, just make yourself as comfortable as possible. I’m sure neither of us want to be that comfortable with each other.”

Your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, hitching a sharp breath before it’s replaced with another stiff nod. There was no user’s manual of sorts that was given to you by your superiors. They merely told you to do exactly what Miguel needed, so if this is what he wanted—for you two to maintain distance—then so be it. If anything, it’s easier to breathe this way for both parties.

And it was like that for a rather long time; the both of you never came too close to the other person. It was strictly a professional workplace relationship, one that didn’t issue any room for intimacy because it wasn’t needed. There were no lunch or dinner get-togethers outside work hours, there was barely any small talk between you both, and you and he didn’t even bother getting each others’ personal numbers despite being consistently around the other like air—both parties thought the work phones were more than enough. There was no need for you to learn about his likes, his dislikes, his favorite foods, and Miguel couldn’t certainly be bothered with your own slices of life. To each their own, if you minded your business about him, he’d do the same to you.

It was a fair trade and a sufficient barter that satisfied you and him; there need not be any excess of the unnecessary.

That was, until a certain day that Miguel was held back during his usual hours to continue working on lab reports—work that didn’t allow him freedom from this hell of a company to see his own salvation.

“If it’s an urgent matter, Mr. O’Hara, I don’t mind taking on some of the workload,” you had said softly as you placed the last stack of packets on his desk that needed proper annotation. “I’m your assistant, after all. It’s my job to help you out.”

Miguel rubbed his forehead out of exhaustion and shook his head, “You’re my assistant from 9 to 5 only. I’m not gonna be like those shocking pricks and work you longer than needed,” he muttered and stretched out his neck, joints crackling. “Go clock out, (Y/N). I’m sure there’s someone waiting for you at home that needs attending to.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere had gone awkwardly quiet. The tension was only broken by the scritching of your shuffling feet before you coughed.

“Um, there’s no one in particular like that for me, unfortunately,” you whispered through a forced laugh that quickly dissolved. “So again, I don’t mind staying late…”

Miguel stiffened in his seat and mumbled an apology for his blatant inconsideration. Right… you were still rather young and didn’t seem the type to have a family yet. “No boyfriend? Or girlfriend… I’m not one to judge.”

“No, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No parents?”

“I moved out, so no.”

“Not even pets?”

“None.”

“... perhaps friends of sorts?”

“...”

Another sigh heaves itself from his aching lungs. What he’d do for a cigarette right now to kill this awkward tension. You were a rather shy person that isolated herself from most people, but Miguel didn’t think you’d detach yourself this much from the crowd.

You proposed your assistance once more, as third times always a charm. “Please let me assist you, Mr. O’Hara. I truly do not mind staying overtime if needed.”

Miguel, at first, thought you might be kissing his ass for a possible raise, but the thought quickly disappears when you genuinely appear concerned for his well-being given the fact he looked ultimately much more disgruntled than usual. Despite your timidity, you could be a stubborn one, so Miguel gave in before he tired himself even more with mild arguments that he was sure would drain whatever life he had left in him.

He inhales sharply and fiddles with his bag for a bit before he pulls out an array of keys, gently detaching a pair of them. One of them is his car key. The other—his house key.

“Take these,” he said and gestured them to you. “I’ve trusted you enough to drive my car on multiple occasions, so now I’m entrusting you to my daughter.”

Your eyes widened briefly, brows raising to new heights. Blinking in the alikeness of an owl, you repeated, “Your… your daughter?”

Miguel supposes this is what succumbs to him after not revealing even the most personal, yet basic parts of himself to a coworker. He hasn’t even revealed his birthday to you, let alone his family, so he can’t say he’s too surprised at your reaction.

“Yes, my daughter,” he repeats and starts scribbling on a post-it. “Her name is Gabriella, she just turned five and is in kindergarten. I’m gonna call up the daycare and tell them that you’ll be picking her up from school. After that, drop her off at the house and just… just kind of stay there until I come home. There should be leftovers in the fridge if she gets hungry. I’ll take a cab home… I dunno.”

Miguel sticks out the post-it note containing both the address of the daycare and his apartment number. With caution, you take and examine them closely with a mild surprise still on your face of the new information about your boss that you thought you should’ve learned a while ago. You begin to see yourself out of his office with an evident nervousness in your being before Miguel spontaneously gets up and grabs your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

A chill goes down your spine when you see a menacing and unusual red glint in those pools of mahogany. His once-drained face is suddenly stony and rugged with his teeth bitten back to avoid any unnecessary threats. The physical contact makes your nerves go cold and paralyzes you into place to force you to stare into those eyes that you’re not sure aren’t even human, a sort of malicious crimson tint gleaming over brown hues.

“Do not… let anything happen to her,” he hisses under his breath, his tone jaggedly sharp, “Not a single scratch, yes?”

It takes a while for air to breathe itself back into your lungs, yet only a partial amount of it revives your body because all you can reply is a choked out,

“Yes.”

Miguel lets go of your wrist like it’s a heated iron rod, the burn of it stinging his hand with the aftertaste of your skin still damped on his palm. You quickly leave after that, leaving him to sigh and stare into nothing before clutching the picture frame of his daughter that sits on his desk—praying that you’ll live up to his expectations and arrive home to an unscathed Gabriella.

And throughout the duration of the three years you and Miguel have spent side by side, with each repeated question he’d contritely ask again and again, he did each and every single time you had to take care of her. The hours became longer, more strenuous, and created a blockage between Miguel and Gabriella that only you were able to bridge between. Gabriella—whose particular shyness reminded Miguel of a certain someone—eventually warmed up to you and began to treat you much more familiarly as time passed, growing accustomed to wrapping her body around your legs when she saw you during pick up and always asking what was for dinner that evening as if you’ve been there since her birth.

Gabriella grew very fond of you, Miguel noticed. There was some sort of mimicry in her actions at times that mirrored your own habits like how she’d tilt her head and purse her lips to the left when she was confused like you did or she’d randomly walk briskly in the same fashion you marched. She’d slip in a mention of your name during small discussions here and there, a praise never failing to tail her words.

“Miss. (Y/N) bought this headband for me! Isn’t it pretty?”

“Oh, Miss. (Y/N) taught me how to solve that problem yesterday.”

“Can you make cookies like how Miss. (Y/N) does? Yours taste weird.”

While you weren’t always present around the O’Haras, Gabriella made sure it seemed like you were.

There was a particular time that Miguel was helping her on some homework assigned over the weekend. The assignment had discussed different careers that children might be interested in the future and when Miguel had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, Gabriella, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven around the time, replied all too simply,

“I want to be like Miss. (Y/N).”

Miguel was astonished. He had expected an answer like a professional soccer player due to her love of the sport or a scientist like her father, but to aspire to be someone that seemingly was just an occasional companion? To him, it didn’t make sense.

“Like, do you wanna work for Daddy when you’re older?” Miguel asked, attempting to clarify what she meant since she knew enough to understand you were associated with her father.

Gabriella shook her head and mindlessly continued to draw what seemed to be a portrait of you in… a pink dress? “Nuh uh. I wanna be a princess like her.”

Through furrowed brows, Miguel chuckled a little aimlessly. Of course she’d still believe fantasy and magical things—she was just seven after all. Initially, he wanted to merely correct his daughter, but was a little curious as to what sort of silly information you had been feeding her. “Miss. (Y/N) is a princess?”

“Yep, she told me herself!” Gabriella exclaimed, her hand fisting a yellow marker that scribbled on a crown on the drawing. “She said she used to be a princess, but she ran away ‘cause a giant, fire-breathing lizard tried to kidnap her!”

“I think it might’ve been a dragon, mijita,” Miguel corrected gently, trying to go along with the usual trope fairy tales portrayed.

“Nuh uh, it was a big and creepy lizard, she said!” she retaliated stubbornly.

“Well,” he started again, attempting to choose his words a little more carefully this time around. “How come you don’t wanna be like Ariel? Or Tiana? They’re princesses, too, right?”

She shrugged. “I like them. But they’re not Miss. (Y/N).”

Something unnatural began to seep into Miguel’s chest. He knew that Gabriella liked you quite so, but he didn’t expect for her to almost admire you in such a fashion that inspired her to be like you. In his eyes, you were nothing but the assistant that loyally stood by his side and abided by his every word—to him, it seemed like you were more of a butler or servant than a princess.

But in his daughter’s eyes…

“Why? What’s so special about (Y/N)?” Miguel inquired with a growing curiosity to try and see you in the same light as Gabriella.

She shook her head, displeased with the informality given to you by her father. “You gotta say Princess (Y/N). I don’t have to ‘cause she said it’s okay.”

He sighed, “Okay, fine. What’s so special about Princess (Y/N)?”

Gabriella set her marker down carefully and thought for a little while. Her eyes suddenly lit up with delight, an affirmative grin set on her lips.

“Well, she’s really pretty… like reallyyy pretty. I wanna be just as beautiful as her one day,” she praised, making Miguel’s brows rise at the sudden compliment. “She’s really nice, too. She never shouts at me like the teachers or coaches do… and she always lets me have extra dessert when I do a good job on my homework.”

Miguel fell silent. Perhaps it was more than mere admiration, but idolization for Gabriella. She viewed you in a way that Miguel hadn’t even thought of because he only viewed you as his coworker. But in Gabriella’s eyes, you were more than just her babysitter—you were literal royalty to her. He shouldn’t be one to complain though—he’d take his daughter following in your footsteps over some others that might lead her astray. You were… sufficient enough, he supposes, even if Gabriella didn’t think so.

“She’s super smart too—like you, Papá! Maybe even smarter,” she retorts, making Miguel twitch. “And I like her voice a lot. I really like it when she reads me a story because her voice is pretty. Sometimes she sings this song to me to help me sleep.”

“Oh?” Miguel questioned, “¿Y, qué canción es esa?”

“I keep forgetting the name and words of it…” Gabriella pouted after a moment of attempted concentration. “But it went somethin’ like…”

She began humming an off-tune melody that struck a dissonant, yet familiar chord within Miguel, but it was impossible for him to find why it was so eerily familiar to him. Was it perhaps from an old song? Or a film he’d seen before? It was a calming song, one that was perfectly suited for a child’s lullaby, but something about it seemed almost so customary to him.

“Ya gotta marry her,” his daughter said plainly and began to resume her artistry, ignoring the sudden startle she gave her father. “So that way, I can become a princess, too.”

Miguel helped himself to the nearby cup of water to soothe his choked throat after the scare she gave him. “Sweetheart, I’m not a prince, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” his daughter replied without missing a beat. “But you know what you are, though?”

Dare he say that Gabriella had grown akin to you the same way she had with her father. Something about her praise and regard for you seemed to mirror the way that reflected alike to her father, yet Miguel couldn’t tell if she had managed to draw a line between the images of you and him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Gabriella could even define a difference in her adulation between you and him besides the fact one was her parent.

But when the thought of Gabriella potentially viewing you as sharing the same title as him—a parent—something seeds inside Miguel. He doesn’t know what it is or what it will grow into, but there’s one thing he knows for sure.

The seed of you in his life and hers is here to stay, whether he likes it or not.

Gabriella’s smile grew wide before she happily announced,

“You’re her knight in shining armor!"

PRESENT

If he squinted properly and took a closer look, perhaps Miguel could make himself hallucinate enough to try and visualize the golden chandelier above your head as your haloing tiara. It was the main light source nearly the entirety of the venue, but something about the way the light glistened around you made you seem almost holy, like you were a divinity gracing your presence on the wretchedness they called Earth.

Blame it on the wine, but Miguel couldn’t help but notice that you looked more celestial tonight; a unique sort of ethereal that he’s only seen in the finest of paintings. The banquet hall is covered in layers of silkened gold, only emphasizing your best features in the spotlights of reflecting amber.

You’re talking idly (per usual, unfortunately) with a coworker from Human Resources that he’s seen you often have mild conversations with on the weekly, a rare familiarity that he only knows he’s been graced with in full; so it’s truly no surprise that there’s a placid stir of envy growing within Miguel as you’ve decided to not give your semi-cold shoulder a break even tonight, even with the rarity of a compliment given by him. At least there’s been somewhat of an improvement—you’re actually holding miniscule conversations with him every now and then as you both chatter with the crowd as long as there’s a third party.

Yet he still hasn’t been granted mercy of having a proper one-on-one with you, yet.

But beggars can’t be choosers, so Miguel must make do with what he’s offered.

The coworker, finally, is called by one of his project managers and politely excuses himself, leaving you to Miguel’s devices at long last. Like a flower’s petals given little to no care, your smiling face wilts into the solemn countenance that Miguel has grown accustomed to seeing for the past week when you turn your gaze back towards the table, a sliver of Miguel caught in the corner of your eye. In time, he just barely catches a glimpse of your eyes flickering toward his figure before they return to stare at the nearly empty plate of food with a slight dismal.

A choice of what words to say jumble in his mouth. They toss and jump about while not giving him full comprehension of what they mean and Miguel grows frustrated at his lack of intelligibleness because it wasn’t every day that his resolve could be so cowardly in front of someone. Usually he was the one that made egos shrink, but upon your grace, his own could only grow so small.

You can tell there’s an awkward silence amongst you both despite the audible chatter throughout the banquet hall and the idle conversations among your tablemates, so you break it first but stiffly shuffling out your phone and dialing Gabriella’s babysitter for tonight—a blue moon occasion since neither you nor Miguel could be present. Gabriel is out of town and because there were only so many people in the world that Miguel could trust with his beloved, the elderly next-door-neighbor was the last resort.

“I should probably check up on how Mrs. Darcie is doing,” you splutter with a dry mouth. “I forgot to teach her how the TV remote works and I’m sure she must be bored out of her—”

Unconsciously, Miguel gently pries the phone out of your shaking hands, the connection between skin and skin electrifying his nerves more than he liked. He takes notice of the size difference between your hand and his own and eyes carefully at how easily your fingers would be able to slip into the gaps of his all too easily; like two connecting puzzle pieces.

He places it face down on the table to avoid further distractions. “I’m sure Mrs. Darcie is alright,” he attempts to soothe as he places his hand over your own, nearly caging it between his fingers. Miguel struggles with fighting the urge to squeeze it delicately—he doesn’t know if he’s earned that privilege, or if he ever did. “Gabi is most likely preparing for bed, we shouldn’t distract her.”

Eyes flickering toward your covered hand, the warmth that envelopes it from Miguel’s makes you swallow thickly.

“Ah,” you murmur and timidly pull back your hand to place back on your lap to Miguel’s disappointment. “Right… Never mind then.”

And suddenly, he’s back to square one. Silence plagues the air again between you and him, only this time, it’s thicker and grimier almost. Perhaps it was the oddity that was the physical contact that added to the musk of it; Miguel prays that you didn’t find it uncomfortable.

A fork is plucked between your fingers and you go to idly poke at your food to fidget with something other than your hands. “I hope she’s okay. Gabi, I mean. I-It feels a little odd leaving her with someone other than you.

Rays of hope and enthrallment embellish Miguel’s being from the fact that finally… finally you’re the one attempting a conversation with him after much too long. And not only that, you’re beginning with something bold, even if you don’t realize it. Despite the fact you’re rather unconscious of what you’re saying, something within Miguel perks up at the fact that you’re worried about Gabriella in the same sense… that he is.

That a parent is.

He fights the urge to physically shake his head to brush the thought off. Miguel hums, a semi-sorry attempt at being suede and casual. “Mrs. Darcie has had eight children in her lifetime, I’m sure that she’s definitely had her experience of taking care of kids,” he says seemingly nonchalantly. “Gabi, if anything, is lightwork to her.”

A soft delight pings in his chest again when you reply almost instantaneously, “She is indeed a good girl, very well-behaved.”

“She has her moments,” Miguel snorts, fondly remembering a few of younger Gabriella’s temper tantrums and outbursts of tears.

Something golden, something bright blossoms within him when he hears you let out a soft chuckle at his reply. It’s abrupt, but it’s short and sweet enough that he feels accomplished, enough for him to savor the taste of it. “All children do from time to time. But she’s definitely one of the better apples of the bunch.”

Miguel thinks you’re right; it wasn’t often that parents, new ones especially, were granted with the privilege of having obedient children, so he’s one of the lucky ones. Perhaps Gabriella being a good kid was the universe giving him mercy as a single parent, as society often thinks it takes two to tango when it comes to childcare most of the time.

But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Even if Miguel wasn’t aware of it, some of the responsibility was lifted off his shoulders when you entered the picture, as the duties of nurturing a young child were now in your favor the moment you had signed your work contract. For that, he harbors guilt from time to time when he thinks that you never exactly signed up to be a babysitter, let alone a parent figure to his kin that you were still unaware of.

And then it hits him.

It comes all of a sudden—his senses downpouring from the cloud of his daydreams and thoughts.

It’s not a good realization by far. If anything, it’s the very opposite, one that’s one the other end of the spectrum. It’s a deathly epiphany and one that he doesn’t like to acknowledge but is forced to.

Miguel stares blankly at the tablecloth, eyes droning into the satin folds of it as they mimicked the waves of a crashing ocean. A sort of paleness infects his face, the color of it draining slowly and he goes still when he feels his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

You’re quick to take notice of your boss’s current disposition, growing wary of his wide, blank eyes and gritted jaw, along with his knuckles growing white as they fist his slacks. A shallow breath is echoed from him; you furrow your brows.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you murmur, leaning toward his figure.

Miguel’s mind stirs. If Gabriella views you as a parent-figure, what exactly would you think of it? You’re not much younger than Miguel is, only falling behind a mere four or five years, but you’re still significantly young that you’ve got your whole life ahead of you that you’d need to experience by yourself. The remnants of youth are still planted onto you despite being well-adjusted to the adult world, so to put the responsibility of a child on your shoulders? Miguel feels contrition flood into him.

What if you didn’t even want children?

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

Your boss seems to be frozen in time, seeing as how not a muscle in his limbs nor his face were moving, but his eyes were wide open, almost glazed with fear. A feathery hand goes to place itself over his tightened fist before you ask again, “Mr. O’Hara, are you okay?”

The worst case scenario infects Miguel’s thoughts—you standing in the same shadow of his ex, exiting through the same door she had walked through just a few days after his daughter’s birth and breaking his entire being into little pathetic pieces.

This time, however? He wouldn’t be the only one with a shattered heart.

A thick swallow goes down your throat. You gently shake his hand with your own to attempt to break him out of his frigid state, a worry beginning to settle itself in your stomach. “Mr. O’Hara? Can you hear me?” you declare a little louder than the first two times.

Your voice makes him blink and he clears his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at the sudden loss of composure. “Yes, I-I’m fine…” he mutters as he tugs at the tight collar of his dress shirt.

You nod with visible skepticism. Miguel turns away from your gaze to avoid further questioning, since he knows you’ve been at his side long enough to know his behaviors. “Are you sure?”

He nods and stifles a sigh, nodding. The flurry of what had just occurred in his mind lingers almost painfully and it takes him a while to remember where he is and why. Right… the annual celebration gala… with you… to make up for the date that never happened.

His mind is a mess. It’s an incoherent tornado of everything and anything, with images of all kinds flashing throughout his mind—young Gabriella’s drawing of you and her as princesses that she insisted on framing, your face of disappointment that you gave him when he ditched out on the date, a flashback of his ex slamming his old apartment door on him as an infant Gabriella screamed and wailed in her crib, you hugging his daughter after her winning goal, Miguel’s frazzled self as he showed up too late to his daughter’s first Parents Day with a teary-eyed Gabriella, him finding you quietly reading a sleepy Gabi a bedtime story after a long shift at work, you making baked goods in the kitchen with her.. you tucking in her into bed… you suddenly with a suitcase in hand, a sobbing Gabriella in the back as Miguel begged you to stay before you slammed the door behind you and leaving them—

Miguel stands up abruptly, making you jump. The collar and tie around his neck suddenly seem too tight and his throat runs dry. The air grows hotter and his vision starts to blur.

“Mr. O’Hara,” you start as you also stand up, “Is everything alr—”

“I need some air,” Miguel barely chokes out before he leaves the banquet hall without another word. He can just barely hear you ask if there’s anything you could do before he turns a sharp right and leaves the entirety of the building altogether, choosing to remain in the back garden to breathe in fresh oxygen, a relieving chill to the air.

A hand goes to loosen his collar and tie and he can feel himself gain consciousness again. The sky is draped with an ink blue all over, speckles of the night stars scattering all around. The floral smell of many garden flowers fills his senses and Miguel grounds himself properly before he settles himself on a stone bench to balance in his mind.

He attempts to reason with himself.

Clearly, you don’t mind being with children, and obviously you don’t mind being with and taking care of Gabriella. She’s not simply a job to you that you’re forced to work with—you’ve said it yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t go to her games nor would you remember to bring her small gifts of her liking. You’ve done things for her out of your own initiative many times. Gabriella is your world, Miguel thinks, as much as your hers.

Now there’s the problem of you being with Miguel, if your feelings haven’t changed all too much. In all honesty, Miguel thinks if he’s with the right person, he’s sure to put in effort into stabilizing and nurturing a proper relationship. He hadn’t had the time to go around and look for love because of work and Gabriella, so serving as this sanctuary that came to him was basically a perfect fit into his life—don’t mind it took him three years to notice it. You’re worth putting that effort in.

Finally… there’s the possible chance that you reject Miguel’s proposal of being Gabriella’s secondary caretaker.

…

Miguel attempts to process it in a more… positive light. One that won’t send him spiraling.

But it’s nearly impossible.

How is it possible to settle a middle ground of happiness, or at the very least… satisfaction, between you and him and Gabriella? How do you imagine a happy ending to a dawning of Gabriella’s happiness? How can Miguel ever face you after asking such a thing?

His vision shakes again, another hurricane of impossible questions begins whirling in mind. The bile in his stomach churns uncomfortably and his hands grow clammy again. His feet feel like they’re sinking in the dirt. Somehow, even at a staggering height compared to most of his colleagues, Miguel feels small once more.

Would he be able to cope with such a—

A loud crash and multiple screams suddenly break Miguel out of his state and he whirls his head to see what was happening inside. The peek of something green slithers inside the massive hole in the glass ceiling indented in the building, and it doesn’t take Miguel long to know what’s happening.

He sprints back inside the building and into the banquet hall, the opposite way where everyone is headed and takes a swift peek inside to what was happening.

A horrifically large green lizard crawls on the floor, letting out an agonizing roar of sorts with its tail swishing about and knocking everything and everyone in its path over. Dr. Curtis Connors, the one foe Miguel had fought a few months ago and had just managed to escape his grasp, had come back for revenge in a newer, more improved, more terrifying form of his initial self-experiment. News of his identity had leaked out immediately the moment that he had defeated the mad doctor, and every work that was researched by him that was deemed irrelevant by Alchemax was unpublished and/or destroyed—that included raiding everything in his personal lab—an urgent executive order made by Tyler Stone himself.

Hungry for revenge for the destruction of his work, Miguel was certain he was back for revenge as back when he was still sane, the amount of research that Dr. Connors had put in was extensive and yielded long years in the making, spanning over nearly three decades of research that was wiped away in the matter of a single day thanks to Alchemax.

Miguel quickly turns a corner, hidden from the public eye, and commands his suit on before quickly re-entering the banquet hall. He swings up towards the domed ceiling and carefully analyzes the area.

There’s still a few people scattering from the room, shrieks echoing from the walls. His eyes go to search for where you are in desperation, praying you’re safe somewhere outside, but a flash of light pink catches the corner of his eye. He nearly snaps his neck when he finds you running in the opposite direction of where most people are headed—towards the garden.

“(Y/N)!” Miguel yells out without thinking and slaps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, you don’t hear him due to the commotion inside the area as you swim against the current of people. You fight the urge to fall down with every person that bumps into you amidst the chaos before you thankfully make it near the exit.

He lunges down from his spot on the ceiling, lassoing a few people that nearly get crushed under Lizard’s humongous tail and bringing them to safety properly on the way, making his way towards your figure. Rubble from the many columns begin to collapse on themselves; clouds of dust and debris fog the first floor of the hall with the wreckage already trapping some people inside.

A large chunk from the wall creaks and begins to teeter over the south exit, where you’re headed. A certain distraction diverts you from noticing the large cement framework around the exit that’s about to topple on you to Miguel’s horror. In the nick of time, he just barely manages to snatch you by the waist from a thrusted sprint just before the framework collapses with a thunderous boom.

You and Miguel cough from the dust it created. It takes a good second for you to process what your fate might’ve become, and it takes just another second for you to regain your consciousness. A good part of the exit is now blocked, but that doesn’t stop you from taking off your heels and attempting to climb over it.

Miguel barks out and grabs your arm that’s now scathed with slight scratches. “The hell are you doing?!” he exclaims worriedly.

You turn back with a teary and troubled look on your face, much to his shock. Abruptly, you turn back towards the exit and attempt to tug back your arm from his firm grasp. “M-my boss… he’s inside the garden,” you croak miserably out as you try to pull yourself over the fallen column. “I need t-to know if he’s safe…”

Lizard lets out another mighty howl and patters toward the stage, his tail once again swinging haughtily and ignoring anything in its path. Miguel shouts at you to duck and pulls you down along with him. You prop back up and without his arm on yours, you use it to your advantage and grunt yourself forward onto the column.

Miguel wraps a large hand over your ankle and weighs you down from moving any further. “Hey, you need to get out, now. You can’t be here, no one should be,” he urges.

The shake of your head concerns him—right, you’re too stubborn for your own good. “I’ll be fine. P-please, just leave me be.”

“Not when you’re about to get killed,” he declares and juts your ankle more towards him. The motion makes you fall into his chest and Miguel uses one hand to properly secure you to himself, the other launching and swinging a web to the north entrance.

You squirm and fight against him, pleading desperately for him to drop you and leave you alone. A frame of tears threatens to fall from your eyes from frustration and despair when you get put down. Miguel has to physically stop you from running back into the banquet hall once again—you put up a fight though. You thrash against him, clawing and weakly punching at his stronger arms, imploring for him to let you back inside.

“You don’t understand—” you gasp as the remnants of the people inside flood out. Looking over his shoulder, you gaze at the exit solemnly. “Please… I need to know if he’s alright—he h-has a young daughter back at home and if anything happens t-to him—just please let me go!” you wail.

He grabs you by the shoulders forcefully and settles you down, the stream of tears falling from your eyes running his throat dry once again. Miguel has never seen you cry, or even come close to crying. Not when Gabriella forced you to watch what she considered “one of the saddest movies in existence”, not when an entire glass beaker had toppled and its shards pierced your skin, not even when Miguel had first scolded you about your many mistakes on the very first document you turned into him.

Glassy eyes meet concerned, masked ones. Your lip trembled violently, the words all jumbled in your mouth about to spill. “Just let me check if he’s alright,” you just barely whisper.

He bores his gaze into yours as his composure does its best to upkeep him as best as possible. Miguel, from the inside of his mask, bites his lip and sighs. “I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

“What if you don’t?” you accuse with furrowed brows.

“I’ll bring him home safe and sound,” he says firmly. “You said he has a daughter, right? I won’t let her become an orphan. I swear on my life I won’t.”

Your gaze doesn’t falter, even when Miguel attempts to soothe you by chafing the chilled skin of your arms up and down in a calming manner. Unbeknownst to you, you and him share an image of Gabriella in your minds; it brings a sting of ache to your chests.

“How can I trust you?” you ask dryly.

“Because,” he goes to weave a string of webbing through the north entrance and takes you out into the safety of the outside. He settles you on the corner of two intersecting streets that sit nearby the building, with your tears still falling and hands trembling. A hand carefully holds your cheek and wipes away descending tears on your chalky face, Miguel ignoring the squeeze of his heart with each one that puddles on the sidewalk.

“... I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man leaves you on the sidewalk idly with the blurry figures of your co-workers and other people in the company whizzing by you with no concern for anyone else other than themselves. It takes a moment for you to understand what just happened and with whom, suddenly hit with the pang of realization that you had just met the Spider-Man: the well-known vigilante protecting Nueva York from all corners, beloved by the public. Excitement can’t seem to conjure itself within you, however, your gaze still lingering on the building that Miguel was possibly in.

A hesitant step takes you forward back to the building, but your phone vibrates abruptly from a notification from Mrs. Darcie. Word must’ve gotten out so quickly that it reached the O'Hara's neighborhood, as her text was asking if you and Miguel were alright. Your thumbs shake as you try and type up a response to let her know that you were at least alive, but you know that Gabriella wanted you both home.

The least you could do is make sure half of that concern was eased. You were counting on Spider-Man to do the rest.

With an arm reaching out for a taxi, you rush into one and tell the driver to step on the gas, promising to tip extra. You’d be willing to give all the money you had with you if it meant that you could be with Gabriella for tonight.

You’ve underestimated the nightly rush hour this Friday night had brought upon, because there’s a sea of cars that are equally as stuck as you are amidst the road. Tangible fingers go to grip your hair frustratingly, and asking the driver to go any further was basically useless. Each minute you wasted on the same road you had been on for what was nearing twenty minutes made you more anxious by the minute.

“I-isn’t there some sort of shortcut?” you ask the driver hoarsely. “I don’t care what roads you have to take, just please get off this one. I’m begging you. I have a child that’s waiting for me.”

His eyes give you a quick glance in the mirror, and empathy embeds itself in his equally tired eyes. He must be a father himself, you think, as he gives you an affirmative nod and swings off the road onto a much more bumpy and gravelly, but visibly less dense one.

It’s nearly an agonizing hour later off the road—it would’ve most likely reached around two or even three if you stayed on the main road—but you thankfully make it to the O’Hara’s residence. Your body moves on its own, flying out the elevator and speeding down the floor of the apartment. You burst open the door, visible sweat misted on your forehead and an ache to your limbs but all that is ignored when Mrs. Darcie greets you with relief, with a sleeping Gabriella settled soundly on the couch as her favorite TV show buzzes in the background.

She grasps you tightly by the arms. “My goodness, thank heavens you’re alright,” she murmurs quietly. “That must’ve been quite a scare… are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” you gasp out tiredly. “But how is she? Gabi, I mean… d-does she—”

Mrs. Darcie shakes her head. “She fell asleep a while ago, she doesn’t know. I just managed to get informed thanks to my son who works near the building. But where is Miguel?”

Dread floods your face once more, remembering why you left the banquet in the first place. Somehow, however, your phone vibrates and receives a text from the one and only. A loud sigh escapes your lips and you crumple to the floor as the feeling returns to your numb legs as Miguel’s texts ease your worries.

Hey I’m alive and alright. I saw you leave earlier, hope you’re safe. I’m omw home.

You fight the urge to burst into tears from the relief as Mrs. Darcie helps you back up. “I’m assuming that’s him,” she says gently as she encourages you to take off your heels. “What a waste of night and beautiful dress. Shame that blasted giant iguana or something had to ruin it.”

A broken laugh leaves you from her gentle humor. You glance down at the dress that the mysterious Lyla had given you tonight and sigh sadly at the many tears of the tulle and fabric. The dress looked expensive and you planned on wearing it again for formal events, but alas, fate has decided to toy with you.

“That’s alright,” you mutter as you help Mrs. Darcie gather her stuff back up so she can finally leave. “I have plenty of others to use in the meantime.”

The elderly woman leaves you inside their apartment after bidding you a goodnight to tend to Gabriella, who’s still sound asleep and oblivious to what was happening to the world and people around her. That’s a good thing, at least, you think to yourself as you tidy up the living room around her quietly. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes.

She’s still small enough that you’re able to carry her to her room even at her age and it reminds you a lot of when she was younger, when she’d pretend to be asleep so you could carry her yourself to go back to her room. Nowadays, she knows her bedtime and does it by herself, but assuming she had been waiting for you or Miguel to come home, sleep had snuck onto her as she waited and waited.

You put her down gently, hoping not to get any of the leftover debris on your soiled clothes onto her freshly-washed body. The action just barely stirs her awake, her eyes slitting open at the slightest bit. Your blurry figure just barely makes it to her senses and she grins sleepily.

A titter escapes her lips. “You look like a…” Gabriella starts, her words faltering due to a fading consciousness.

“Like a…?” you whisper softly, a hand stroking her hair gently.

“Like a…” you can tell she’s trying to find the words in her very limited vocabulary currently, her brain threatening to shut off at any second now. “Like a princess, I think?”

You raise your brows at her description as Gabriella immediately falls back asleep. You suppose you do look much more dressed up from usual, but your cheeks tingle a hint of warmth at the comparison of literal royalty. You blame it on the drowsiness.

Your own tiredness begins to crawl up your spine as you stay by Gabriella’s side in her darkened bedroom, her quiet breaths soothing you like a lullaby. With heavy eyelids threatening to shut close at any minute, you fight the urge to give into the Sandman, insistent on Miguel’s return.

Miguel…

His name rings aloud in your mind for a moment.

Miguel…

“I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

Spider-Man’s familiar voice suddenly jolts you awake. Your brows crunch together. How on earth did Spider-Man know Miguel’s name when you merely referred to him as your boss? Perhaps he saw Miguel in the garden beforehand? Maybe Miguel had an earlier oncoming with him from before and Spider-Man just knew him from that one incident? Or… he just happens to know the names of all the citizens of Nueva York because… that’s just how Spider-Man is?

Or, was Miguel actually Spid—you shake your head in the same second you think of such a stupid reasoning. That’s impossible…

… you know in your heart that it just is.

Any reason that you attempt to give, you think of it as either obnoxious or just simply impossible. Maybe you did let it slip that your boss’s name was Miguel… that just seems like the most plausible reason. After all, your adrenaline was at an all-time high and you could barely remember what had happened before the takeover, let alone the conversations you had.

Whatever it was, it was going to bring Miguel back home, and that’s what ultimately had mattered in the end. It probably wasn’t even your business to prod around.

At Gabriella’s visible sleeping state, you stand up and start to head towards the bathroom to fix yourself up, but the sound of the master bedroom’s window suddenly shuffling open makes your nerves electrify. Miguel’s bedroom sat just right next to Gabriella’s, and it was also the bedroom that was nearest to the complex’s fire escape, so a break-in at this time of night was highly plausible.

Grabbing one of the displayed metal baseball bats on the wall, you turn off Gabriella’s lights and lock the door behind, ensuring her safety first before yours. You’re careful to tiptoe around the more creaky parts of the floorboards, desperate to make yourself not seen by the intruder as you step closer and closer to Miguel’s bedroom. The door is just barely ajar, and the lights are on. A distinct shuffling, bed springs, and a masculine groan echo from the crack of the doorway and when all is silent from the other side of the door, you make your move and burst in, ready to swing at whoever threatens the O’Hara residence.

The bat is suddenly grabbed from your hands from a familiar neon orange webbing and thrusted to the side of the room, where it thunks against the wall and falls limply. You gasp aloud and with nothing to defend yourself with, you look up with fear in your eyes that suddenly turn to shock from the sight in front of you.

There, standing in the same blue and red vinyl suit you had crossed paths with earlier, without its mask completing the look… and thus, exposing the face of the man you had been waiting for to come back home to you.

a/n ; second to last part to this mini-series and once again, i apologize for this nearly six-month delay, last semester was rough for uni. almost made this into two parts, but i felt like they just belonged together and i quite like the blend of them together.

thanks for the patience for those who stuck around and have waited far too long for this, you deserve this! i'm glad to see you all again <3 thank you endlessly for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and appreciated (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @raeisthebae @mvchmp @um-well @nintendh-e @eddieslooneymoonie @deputy-videogamer @xochyw @honeybeeznuts @aspens-cove @btszn @scaleniusrm @goldenpoison @the-pan-liquid (if you'd like to be either added or removed from the taglist, please lmk! i know it's been awhile, so hi again haha)

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader #fem!y/n

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outermaybanks · 4 months

Text

JJ shows kook!reader what she's missing part two to this request ★ part 3

a/n: i dont know if this is fluff or me living out a fantasy idk but here it is regardless

You hated events like this, you always had to be on your best behavior, and forcing a smile hurt your cheeks by the end of the night. The dull conversation you were currently trapped in was interrupted as John B’s van parked on the street, blasting loud music.

“What the hell-” Your dad mumbled from beside you, everyone had turned to see the source of the disruption. “I invited them,” You spoke up, making everyone, even Kiara, turn to look at you just as the three boys climbed out of the van.

JJ locked eyes with you as they walked over to Kie, doing some form of handshake before stealing her away from her parents. You couldn’t help but watch with envy. Kiara had broken free of her parent’s expectations, something that seemed impossible to you. You let the feeling of disappoint wash over you as you quickly realized that while JJ had accepted your invitation, he had no intention of hanging out with you.

You were surprised to find yourself eyeing their group all night, and even more surprised at the low profile they maintained, nothing like the rumors you’d heard of their disruptive and volatile tendencies. But mostly, you were surprised by the deep urge to abandon the people talking to you in favor of sitting with the Pogues.

You were well trained, knew that these events required a certain level of acting, forcing smiles and pleasantries even to families you’d heard your mother bad talk in the privacy of her home after one too many glasses of wine. This sort of masquerading was the real cost of being a Kook.

“Hey y/n!” You turned at the call of your name, finding John B standing at the table the rest of his friends were sat at. You looked around carefully before walking over. “Thanks for inviting us,” John B said as you reached their table.

“Yeah, it was actually kind of cool of you,” Kiara spoke up. You honestly didn’t know her that well, just knew she was friends with the Pogues, and preferred to spend her time with them. Your mother had sometimes spoke about it in a rude jest.

“I wanted to thank you for giving me a ride the other day, and JJ for all his hard work,” you said softly, with a well rehearsed smile; still in Kook-mode. JJ noticed it immediately, because if JJ knew one thing about you, this whole making-yourself-smaller thing was not you.

“We were about to head out, have a bonfire at the Chateau, you should come,” John B offered. You were in disbelief, then you wondered if this is how JJ felt when you invited him to the barbeque. “Yeah, wanna ditch this lame fest and see how a real party is done?” JJ said, which surprised you. “Um…” you quickly looked over your shoulder at your father, still stationed at the grill, and your mother who was surrounded by other women, Kie’s mother included. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds really fun, I’d love to.” “Perfect, let’s go,” John B said, standing back up.

You quickly followed them, hoping neither of your parents noticed as you climbed into the van, readjusting your dress meticulously. As John B got in the driver’s seat, you stared out the window, trying to see if your parents noticed your disappearance.

“What happened to the girl who had daddy wrapped around her finger?” JJ questioned, beginning to roll a blunt. “Ignore him, I usually do,” Kiara spoke up, making you smile a bit.

“I know how to get her to relax, don’t I, princess?” JJ said, finishing rolling and held up the blunt. You felt everyone’s eyes on you, watching to see what you did. The moment felt bigger than the last time you hit JJ’s blunt, this felt like you were making a choice between the life back at the barbeque, and the life staring at you while it held out a blunt. You grabbed it from him and put it between your lips, letting JJ light it for you.

When you got to the Chateau, the others stayed outside to build the fire while you went inside to use the bathroom. After, you couldn’t help by look around the place. It was smaller than you expected, but as you walked around the home, it felt like just that, a home, not a house, not a mansion, a real home. It was filled with pictures, knick knacks, everything wasn’t tucked away just right, it was messy and lived in and it looked so comfortable.

“Sorry it’s not Buckinham Palace, but it gets the job done.” You turned to see JJ watching you. “No, I-I love it. It’s so… nice.” JJ chuckled. “Nice… yeah. Sure.” “No, I mean it. This place makes my house feel… I don’t know- nevermind. I didn’t mean anything bad, I swear.”

JJ didn’t respond, just kept his eyes on you. You walked over to the wall of pictures, smiling at pictures of a young John B, with a young blonde beside him that you presumed to be JJ.

“Wow, you used to look so sweet, what happened?” You teased. “Okay, show’s over-” JJ inserted himself between you and the pictures. “Hey!” you giggled as you tried to look behind him. “Thought you came here for a bonfire, c’mon,” JJ shepherded you towards the door, until finally you relented and just went outside, the others sitting around the fire. You felt a weird mixture of comfortable and uncomfortable, this was way outside your element, so different from everything you knew, but hearing them talk and laugh with each other, seeing a side to JJ you never knew existed somehow made you want to keep enduring the uncomfortable.

The Pogues were nothing like what you had heard, nothing like anything you were used to. In Kook world, you had to be perfect, you couldn’t say the wrong thing or laugh too loud because your social standing could be ruined in an instant, which is what you had lived in your whole life, and now watching these genuine friends be themselves around each other with no fear, it honestly started to upset you. In the few hours that flew by, you had heard at least a dozen things that if you said, you’d earn a stern look from your parents, but they felt no fear in saying them. You started wondering if the trade off of wealth was really worth having to water yourself down all the time, and that’s when you decided it was time for you to go.

You stood up suddenly, your thoughts swimming and your heart racing as you tried to calm yourself. “I- Oh shit, I- it’s late, I should probably get going,” you stammer out, trying to maintain your cool. After committing a social faux pas and leaving your family’s party, the last thing you needed was to weird out the Pogues.

“Oh- are you sure? Want us to take you home?” John B asked. “I don’t want to be a bother, it’s fine-” “I’ll drive her, y’all just wait for me. Don’t drink all the beer while I’m gone,” JJ said, standing up from where he sat. “No promises!” Pope called.

You were a bit taken aback, but you followed JJ to the driveway as he walked over to his bike, throwing his leg over. He handed you his helmet. “Safety first, princess.”

You took it from him and put it on your head, and tried to climb on but he stopped you, beckoning you closer before tightening the strap under your chin.

You and JJ couldn’t really talk while he drove, which was probably for the better as you were trying to not cry. Seeing a peek into the Pogue life, had you feeling lonelier than ever, and a part of you was angry at JJ for showing it to you. But even in your upset state of mind, you knew that wasn’t fair.

When JJ parked the bike in front of your house, all the other cars gone except yours and your parents’, you climbed off the back of his bike, handing him back his helmet.

“Thanks for the ride, JJ.” “No problem, princess. Hope we didn’t scare you too much,” JJ said softly. “Are you kidding me? Your friends are like… the coolest people I’ve ever met.” “Oh but not me?”

You couldn’t help but smile, and you realized you were blushing so you put your head down. “I didn’t say that.”

"You're not so bad yourself, princess," JJ said softly before he swallowed, biting his lip before putting his helmet on. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, back in the real world.” “Oh, this wasn’t real?” “No,” JJ scoffed with a chuckle. “Tonight was… a vacation for you.” “That so? Because you’re such an expert on me?” You teased, JJ smiled and looked down. “You know what I mean. See you tomorrow.” “Wait!” You blurted out suddenly, making JJ freeze. “I… I was wondering about something.” “Shoot.” “You say you hate Kooks-” “I do.” “Right, but you’re friends with Kiara… why?” “Because Kooks are arrogant, entitled assholes who don’t care about anyone but themselves.” “Yeah you've said that-” "Kie isn't any of those things. She's not a Kook."

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you thought his words over. “So… if someone isn’t like that, or-or doesn’t want to be-” “Then it sounds like they’re not really a Kook. A real Kook has no problem with being one.” JJ started up his bike, his engine revving loudly. “Goodnight, y/n.” “Night JJ…” You said softly as you gave him a wave goodbye.

July 13th

Now, you had found the shoe on the other foot as you really couldn’t bring yourself to face JJ. After hanging out with him and his friends, and seeing how they lived, you couldn’t help but feel lackluster in your own life. You went through the motions, doing what was expected of you, and you tried to shove down the feeling, the yearning for more; chasing after happiness in the comfort of routine rather than the unknown.

You watched from the doorway as your parents packed, your mother pacing in and out of her walk-in closet. “And you have the number of the neighbors in case of an emergency?” Your dad asked. “Yes, daddy, really I’ll be fine, it’s just a week.”

“I just want to be sure. This is the first trip without you.” “She’s very responsible, aren’t you honey?” Mom asked. You nodded fervently, “Yeah, everything’s gonna be fine, swear.” “Okay. We’ll be back by noon on the 21st, okay? I left the numbers of all staff on my desk. Invite your friends over if you get bored, but stay out of the liquor cabinet, we’re only fine with you drinking when we can supervise you.” “I promise I won’t touch it.” “Good girl.” Your dad praised before pressing a kiss to your head. “You can always call us, I don’t know why your dad is fretting so much, we’re going to Austrailia not Guam,” your mother joked, and you forced a chuckle, wanting to get them out as soon as possible.

You waved goodbye from the front porch as their driver pulled out of the driveway, it was then you locked eyes with JJ, who was once again mowing the lawn. You gave him a small wave, but when he just stared at you, you went back inside, hiding in shame.

But this wasn’t the time for an existential crisis, this was the moment you had been waiting all year for.

The third day your parents were gone was the promised day. You had told your friends months in advance, so once you relieve your dad’s employees for the day, you started preparing for the party; putting out snacks and putting drinks in the cooler. JJ had kept his promise and stayed away, and you had started regretting that decision, but this took priority. This party was your key to gaining more status, by now you were really the only kid in your grade to not throw a house party since your dad hated leaving you alone.

By the end, you were proud of yourself, the house looked nice and you cleared a space in the livingroom for dancing, you had plenty of snacks and drinks, you had hidden away any fragile antiques, but the glistening of the fairy lights reminded you of the bonfire at the Chateau, and for the first time in your life, you found yourself doubting whether or not this was what you wanted.

But you could worry about that after the party, this was already set in stone in your mind, there was no backing out. Canceling a party last minute would be even worse than a bad party. So, when your friends starting arriving, bringing their boyfriends, and their boyfriends’ friends, you were reminded what all of this had been for. You decided to pin the thoughts that had been plaguing you on the fact that none of your girl friends had come over since your dad hired JJ, because once you were in their company again, your other personality came to the surface like a habit you can’t break. You were having fun, drinking, dancing, even smoking with a few boys on the back porch as the music boomed from inside.

You were having fun, until you came in from outside to overhear a conversation that starred the voice of your best friend, Amelie, and Hannah, the girl from the bonfire.

“See? I told you it’d be worth it,” Hannah said. “Yeah, you were right. This party is pretty cool, glad I waited to ghost her.” “I’m just bummed JJ isn’t here. I was hoping to catch him cleaning the pool.” “Hannah! That’s so bad.” “Not as bad as you pretending to still be her friend just so you could still come to the party. She was a total weirdo that day at the beach. Did you see her sneak off at the barbeque? Then she has the audacity to act better than me, at least I’m honest about my intentions to get in JJ’s pants, meanwhile little miss perfect wants her cake and to eat it too.”

Both of them laughed, and you felt like you had been punched in the stomach, and maybe it was that feeling, or maybe it was the alcohol, but you needed to throw up. You ran up the stairs, going into the first room you saw, which was your father’s office, which luckily had a bathroom attached.

As you emptied the contents of your stomach, you realized you had started crying, and the realization just made you cry more. You were sure your makeup was running down your face, and you didn’t want to give those girls the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You didn’t know what to do, you had never felt this bad before. As you racked your brain, you noticed a sticky note on your dad’s desk, with the name JJ on it, and a phone number.

Fuck it.

This is JJ. You know what to do. Beep.

“JJ-” You breathed out, still out of breath from sobbing. “It’s y/n. I- God I hope this is you and not someone else named JJ. I’m at my house and-” you started to cry again, just thinking about what happened to get your words right. “Oh my god. What am I doing? I’m such an idiot.” You said to yourself before hanging up the phone. You hated yourself for feeling so pathetic, and what would be even more pathetic would be making this JJ’s problem. God, you were so pathetic. He probably didn’t even consider you a friend.

JJ never answered unknown numbers, since usually it was bill collectors trying to find his dad, but bill collectors didn’t leave voicemails.

“JJ, it’s y/n, I’m at my house and- oh my God, what am I doing? I’m such an idiot.” You hung up. In the short voicemail, it was obvious you were crying, and from the music in the background, JJ assumed tonight was your party. So why were you crying? JJ didn’t know, but he intended to find out.

When he pulled up to the party, the driveway and street were filled with cars, but he had no problem parking his bike in the lawn. He ran into the house, a small collection of gasps as he opened the door, but he ignored it as he immediately began searching for you, weaving through the crowd to make his way to the back yard, then the kitchen, then upstairs.

“y/n?” he called out, it was quieter up here, but still pretty loud.

A small creak of the door to his right opened. “JJ?” your small voice came out, as your eyes found him. Your face immediately scrunched up as you began to cry again. JJ quickly squeezed past the door, shutting it behind him. “Hey, hey, sh sh, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay…” JJ said softly as he pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back gently as he tried to calm you.

When your crying subsided, JJ took your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“What happened, y/n?” “I- I was smoking with these guys, and when I came back in, I heard Amelie talking about me-” you were out of air and needed a big breath, “and she said she was gonna ghost me and she just wanted to come to the party and- and they don’t like me because I didn’t like that Hannah said she wanted to find out if you were a munch, and they’re not gonna be my friend now.” You word vomited as you held your head back to avoid your tears messing up your makeup any further.

“Here, come sit down,” JJ’s soft voice said as he led you to your father’s office chair. “Kay so Amelie and-and-” “Hannah,” you hiccuped. “Right, Amelie and Hannah, they said they didn’t want to be your friends because I’m a munch? How do they even know that?” “Noooo” You whined, giving up on your makeup as you drunkenly wiped your eyes. “At the beach Hannah said she wanted to find out if you were a munch, and I didn’t like that she was turning you into a sex object so I left, and then John B got me in the van-” “Ohhhhh okay, okay, so Amelie and Hannah don’t want to be your friend anymore and they were just pretending to come to your party?”

“Well,” you sniffled. “Hannah wasn’t really my friend. Amelie was my best friend.” “Sounds like you need better friends.” Your face began to screw back up as tears filled your eyes, and JJ quickly realized his mistake. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that was mean. Okay, well, why don’t you just kick everybody out? Fuck these guys, man.” “And be the laughing stock at school? No, no I have to figure out a way to get Amelie to be my friend again.” “Why? She’s a shitty friend.” “Because she’s more popular so our friends are gonna take her side-” “So all your friends are shitty?” “JJ!” “Sorry, uh- I just don’t really get why you’d want to be friends with someone who sucks.” “Because it’s better than no friends!” you finally admit, and the second the words leave you, you realize just how pathetic you sound. You started to cry again.

“You were right to hate Kooks, JJ. We fucking suck.” “Well, you don’t suck so bad. I know you’re the reason behind my sudden pay raise. That doesn’t seem like something someone who sucks would do.”

His words make you smile, and JJ is relieved to see it again. You two sit in silence for a moment as you take in his words, and he waits to see what happens.

“That day at the beach,” you finally say, “where I left, and you and your friends had to give me a ride home… Hannah suggested we were sleeping together, and… and that I was just keeping it a secret because I was too embarrassed to admit I was fucking a Pogue,” you confess. JJ’s smile fell. “Oh.” “And in that moment I realized how right you were to hate us. I hated us. I hated being apart of people like that, people who could say stuff like that.”

JJ’s eyes met yours, and suddenly you felt warm, and began to fan yourself. “Hot. It’s hot-” you breathed out. “Would you?” JJ suddenly asked, catching you off guard. “Huh? Would I what?” “Would you’ve been embarrassed to admit you were macking a Pogue?”

You thought over his words carefully.

“Half of me wants to say no, never… but I also know how this whole... thing works. Fuck, I mean… You’re like… the coolest person I’ve ever met and I tried to get you to quit just so my ‘friends’ could bring their shitty boyfriends to my party,” you admit, putting the word in airquotes. JJ bit his bottom lip, and you were nervous. Why were you nervous?

“But, I mean… I don’t… I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be an asshole Kook. I want to… be like Kie, one of the good ones, y’know?” “Oh yeah? What else do you want?” “I want these people out of my house for starters.” JJ chuckled. “Okay, what else?” “Better friends…” “I think I can help with that.” Your eyes flickered from JJ’s eyes to his lips, then back again. “I want to be friends with you.” “With me?” “Yeah, with you.” “Just friends?”

Your heart fell into your stomach as you felt like you had been caught doing something you didn’t even know was wrong.

“That’s not funny, JJ.” “Funny? I just asked a question. Do you want to be just friends with me?”

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you decided to be honest. “No, not really.”

JJ smiled, the sight made your heart flutter.

“Good. I’m gonna ask you again in the morning, but for now, I’m gonna get these assholes out of your house,” he said, standing up, but you quickly grabbed his arm. “No, JJ, I don’t want you to go.” “Relax, princess, I’ll be right back, okay? I’m gonna go give those boring Kooks something to talk about, then I’ll be back with a bottle of water and we’ll see if we can’t sober you up, so we can finish this conversation.”

You reluctantly let go of JJ’s arm, and he watched you intently before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll be right back.”

©ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳᵐᵃʸᵇᵃⁿᵏˢ ²⁰²⁴

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank x reader #req #kook!reader

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lovelytsunoda · 11 months

Text

vermont // daniel ricciardo

summary: the ski trip sounded all well and good in theory. except for the fact that she would rather be in the chalet than on the slopes. so when she gets stuck on a ski lift and starts to hyperventilate, danny is the one to calm her down.

pairing: daniel ricciardo x female!reader

warnings: anxiety attack, fear of heights/vertigo, best wingwoman chloe, delusional and oblivious scotty, use of ‘pretty girl’, it feels kind of rushed and I don’t know how I feel about the ending-

she should have told chloe to come on the trip without her. she should have admitted she’s never been skiing before. but when she tried, scotty convinced her to come along anyways, because as far as the aussie was concerned “anybody can learn, it’s easy!”.

and yet, here she was, staring at the ski suit laid out on her double bed, rethinking every life choice she’d ever made leading up to this point.

her hands rubbed the fabric of her maroon turtleneck, teasing her bottom lip between her teeth.

god, this was such and awful idea.

there was a knock on her door, chloe’s voice carrying through. “y/n! are you ready yet? we’re heading down to the slopes!”

“coming out in just a second!” she called, hastily pulling the jacket over her clothes.

____

it was a nice enough day outside: the sun was bright, and the air warmer than expected for vermont in early december, a thick dusting of snow on the slopes as she tromped ungracefully over to the ski rental, where scotty and chloe were waiting with lance and his girlfriend marilou.

"there she is!" scotty shouts. "ready to put your skis on?"

"hang on, don't we have to wait for someone? we're missing a few people." she said nervously, trying desperately to put off the inevitable, even though she had promised chloe that she would at least try to get out of her shell this weekend

marilou nodded. "just daniel. knowing him, he's slept in and forgotten the plan, or he got distracted on his way out."

ah, yes. daniel ricciardo.

the man who made her heart skip three beats, the one person in their small, small friend group who always somehow managed to calm her down, remind her that the world wasn't so bad or scary and that everything would be okay in the end.

“well, we can’t start without the life of the party!” she said it too quickly, no doubt her nerves were showing.

there were so many winter activities they could have picked. so why skiing? why the one thing she’d sworn she’d never ever ever do?

“don’t need to wait guys!” when the sound of daniel ricciardos aussie drawl carried across the wind, she squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the urge to scream an expletive. “I’m right here, sorry I’m late!”

chloe shot her a sympathetic glance as the boys fist bumped each other and the crew turned in the direction of the ski lift.

“you’ll do fine!” the canadian encouraged, looping her arm around her best friend. “skiing is easy, it’s all downhill!”

y/n narrows her eyes. “it’s the not knowing how to balance or steer and accidentally crashing into things I’m better off not crashing into.”

chloe laughed, shaking her head as she patted y/n's shoulder. "don't think like that! just come and enjoy the outdoors with us!"

but despite it all, despite the friendly energy of the trip, the good vibes all around, she couldn't help but feel like she was intruding on a couple's trip: chloe and scotty, lance and marilou. daniel and . . . wait, he came alone too, didn't he?

but she didn't have time to think about it before she was strapped in to a pair of ski's, scotty's hands at her back to push her down the training hill.

it only took like....twenty tries before she figured it out, her skis sailing through the snow like butter as she finally managed to stay upright for the third run in a row. she was really getting the hang of it, she thought, pride swelling in her chest.

"nice job, y/n!" daniel shouted, having just come down one of the hills next to her smaller, beginner hill. "you're a natural!"

at the sound of praise dripping from daniel's lips, she felt her face go pink, and she was certain that it wasn't just from the cold, and that there was something more to it.

"oh, well, i've been practicing a lot. i feel kind of bad, actually, for monopolizing all of scotty's time. keeping him away from his wife and all that." she coughed to clear her throat, one gloved hand smoothing her hair back under the pom-pom toque she was wearing on top of her head.

daniel laughed. a big, hearty laugh that sent butterflies afloat in her chest, the kind of infectious laughter that could bring a smile to anybody's face.

"why don't you come up to the other hill with me, and we try you on something a little bigger?"

she turned her head in the direction daniel was gesturing, and she felt her stomach drop to the floor. "no way, not a chance. that's too high, my dude. what if is break my neck?"

scotty skidded to a stop in front of her, moving to look at the mountain. “no, no, that’s a good starter mountain is you want to move up to something bigger! go for it!”

while daniel cheered, y/n groaned, cursing inwardly.

beside her, lance laughed “you’ll have to move up to a bigger hill eventually, y/n. it’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared!” okay, maybe she was. just a little bit.

the group headed towards the ski lifts, filing in in sets of two, each pair heading for a different level hill. scotty and chloe headed for one of the most advanced, marilou and lance heading for a hill that was somewhere in the middle.

and that meant that is she wanted company on her hill, she would be stuck with daniel.

“after you, milady.” daniel chuckled, gesturing to the ski carriage, allowing her to slide in first, the aussie settling next to her.

the bar snapped down, the lift beginning on its way to take the skiers up the mountain. from this high up, the view across the slopes was actually quite nice: evergreens dusted in snow, ant-sized people in bright coats making their way down mountains.

until she stopped looking eye level, and found her eyes drifting downwards, stomach slammed instantly with vertigo.

yep, she was never doing that again.

“you okay?” daniel asked, concerned when he watched her scrunch her face up, eyes screwed shut.

“yep, yep. just trying not to look down.” she was gripping the chest bar so tightly that she was certain her knuckles were white underneath her gloves.

daniel frowned, reaching for her hand. “it’s okay to be scared of heights. is this why you didn’t want to come up the mountain?”

“maybe. that, and the fear of making a fool out of myself.” She was tight lipped as she answered, still keeping her eyes closed.

but now, she only felt like her heart would beat out if her chest because of the hand on top of hers, not the fall to the ground.

“we’re almost at the top, and then your skis will be on solid ground again.”

she slowly opened her eyes. “thank you.”

over the hum of the lift, she heard a groaning, and then a snap. the ski lift stuttered to a stop, and she couldn’t stop the terrified shriek that left her parted lips, one gloved hand reaching to squeeze the life out of daniels arm.

“hey, hey!” daniel shouted, trying to be heard over other panicked skiers. “look at me, look at me. can you do that?”

her chest was getting tight, body frozen with fear. she couldn’t open her eyes, limbs made of lead as she clung to the man next to her in the lift

“I-I don’t think I can, danny.”

“yeah you can. just focus on me, not the way the carriage is moving, and not what’s below you.” his voice was soothing, grounding. enough that she was able to turn her head slightly and open her eyes to face him.

“see, that wasn’t so hard, was it, pretty girl?”

“no.” her voice was stil shaky as she stared into daniels eyes, feeling suddenly like he could see every part of her. every secret, every long held and unspoken truth.

and she liked it.

“just keep your breathing steady, and we will be out of here before you know it.” his voice started level and calm, his breath curling up into mist in the air.

“promise me?”

daniel leaned in, his soft lips warm against her forehead. the simple action, not quite a kiss but not that innocent either, set her skin ablaze in pink again, warmth spreading through her frozen appendages, from the tip of her nose to the ends of her fingertips.

“I promise.” daniel assured her, his gloved thumb rubbing reassuring circles on her skin.

she wasn’t sure how long they had been sitting like that when the lift whirred to life again, the carriage shakily confusing it’s ascent up the hill. realizing that the lift was moving again, she pulled away from danny, averting her eyes, looking anywhere except the man who had just held her so tenderly.

she shook her head, pulling her ski goggles back down over her eyes. “sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

“don’t apologize, pretty girl.” daniel said softly. “you were scared. and I liked knowing that I could make you feel better. I care about you, y/n. as more than a friend.”

she paused, pulling her goggles back up. “you do?”

daniel beamed. “of course I do, and I’d love to get to know you better.”

“buy me a hot chocolate if I make it down the hill one piece?” she suggested, gently placing a hand on his forearm.

the lift reached the top of the hill, the bar raising and allowing the pair to slide off the metal chair, Danny’s hand in hers as he took the lead, guiding her towards the slope.

“and if I make it to the bottom first, you have to kiss me.” danny wagered, a mischevious look in his eyes as he flicked his goggles down.

y/n laughed, inching towards the slope like bambi on ice, all shaky legs and flailing limbs. “i think I ’ll take you up on that, ricciardo!”

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @thatsdemko @lorarri @userlando @silverstonesainz @cartierre @love4lando @sidcrosbyspuck @silversainz

#daniel ricciardo #the christmas collection 2023 #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #Spotify

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 days

Text

compos mentis 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: ookay here we go with this guy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The restaurant is buzzing with voices. It adds the disorienting ripple in your head. It feels like there’s something crawling over your scalp as you try to blink away the haziness. It’s just fatigue. That never goes away, only ebbs and flows.

You sit on the leather cushion of the curled bench. The booth is lit by a small chandelier hanging above and the plucking of strings strums under the drone of patrons. The sconces against the wall are blurry and bright and the people all around are merely shadows.

The server appears and doles out the food. You got the butternut squash soup with a French bread roll. With the weather turning chill, it sounded delicious. Besides, you don’t have the stomach for anything heavy.

You glance over at Andy’s thick sirloin and your mother’s glazed chicken. Your hunger roars in your stomach. You shakily unwrap the cutlery from the cloth napkin and thank the server as your mother taps her glass. The man, in his pressed white shirt, smiles and pours her some more. Andy clicks his tongue but says nothing.

“Anyone else?” The server offers.

“We’re good,” Andy answers for both of you.

You could laugh, if you had the energy. Anyone would look at you and know you shouldn’t be indulging. No, you have your lemon water and that’s good enough.

“This looks delicious,” your mother chirps and takes a gulp of chardonnay, a hum at the flavour. “Oh, that is divine too.”

“I hope you enjoy. Both of you,” Andy says. “I know you had a busy day.”

His elbow touches yours, almost as if it’s intentionally. You look at his shoulder but no higher. You steady the spoon over the bowl and dip it into the soup. You lean forward to taste as your mouth jabs into one of the slices of grilled chicken.

“Mm, the maple is nice but a bit much,” she complains after a sampling.

Andy exhales slowly, measuring his breath as if to conceal his sigh. It’s strange. He seems annoyed by your mother more often than not and yet he takes her out for dinner and got her that fancy ring. You don’t understand relationships. Not past the shallow ones written onto the screen. You probably won’t ever know the real thing.

You rest your spoon on the wide brim and take a piece of the bread. It’s still warm and it smells wonderful. You pinch off a morsel and dip it into the creamy broth. You nibble on it, resisting the urge to shovel it down.

“You sure the soup’s enough?” Andy asks. Again. He questioned you when you ordered an appetizer over and entree. He even offered to get an appetizer for the table instead.

“Oh, sweetie,” your mother swallows around her words. “You know she doesn’t eat very much. Her stomach is so sensitive. And look, that’s such a lot of soup. She probably won’t even finish the bread.”

You nod. You could gobble it all down but you know better. You’ve been sick before from letting your appetite deceive your mind. She’s right. You’ll be full soon enough. Your stomach always starts to ache after a few bites.

“Ah, sorry. I don’t mean to pester. I just want to make sure you have everything you like. If you wanted a piece of my steak, I think there’s a lot more than I need here,” he chuckles and cuts into the sirloin.

“Oh, she can’t have red meat. Too heavy for her,” your mother tuts. “Really, Andrew, you are so sweet to offer though.”

“Yes, thanks,” you murmur as you squish bread between your fingers. You’re suddenly very conscious of every bite you take.

“So, any more doctor’s appointments?” He asks. “I could come along next time? Since we’re gonna be one big family. I’d like to help out if I can. All this work shouldn’t be on you, Danica.”

“Oh, my,” your mother slurps more wine. “You really are a dream,” she touches his sleeve. “That would be wonderful. Nothing this week though. Just next month but she does need her script filled. If you don’t mind getting that, it would be a great help.”

You want to shrink into a speck of dust. You hate it. You’re rarely ever included in conversation. Not for real. You’re only ever the topic of discussion, like you’re not even there.

“Mom, I told you,” you insist and wipe soup from your oxygen tube. “I can go get it. It isn’t very far.”

“No, no, no. I told you before. You cannot take the bus. It’s absolutely out of the question. You could get caught on something or worse, you could fall.”

“Hm, that’s... she’s an adult, Danica, if she wanted to--”

“Andrew, you don’t know the risks. I do.”

He opens his mouth then shuts it. His lips thin as he holds back his retort. He saws into the steak.

“Well,” he looks at you, “if you’d like to come along, I can always drive you.”

“I can just do it myself,” your mom insists sharply.

“Relax,” he warns. “She wants to do it herself, she can. She’s not entirely helpless, is she?”

You chew your lip. Your mother has that look. The dangerous one. Andy’s never seen what it can truly lead to.

“Whatever is less trouble,” you utter and focus on your soup. “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Andy challenges, “you did nothing.”

You nod and take another spoonful. It’s really good but you can’t truly enjoy it. You just want to go home. Away from these strangers. Home where you can be alone. Where you can put some walls between you and your mom. You know you’ve already ruined her night just by being there.

🩷

Your mother almost finishes the bottle. That’s not unusual but since she met Andy, it’s less frequent. As you leave the restaurant, she’s leaning heavily on him, her heels click unevenly as one shoe keeps slipping loose. You follow, clutching tight the handle of your tank.

You stop by the SUV as your mother purrs and wraps her arm around Andy. She squeezes his butt and you look away, slowing as you try not to intrude. He flinches and pushes her away, clearing his throat.

“Danica,” he girds quietly, “please, not here. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not, I feel good,” she slurs.

Embarrassment scalds across your chest and down your spine. You never wanted anyone else to see her like this. You know it’s not her fault. It’s yours. She’s stressed from taking care of you and gets a little carried away trying to unwind.

“You’re all over,” Andy gets her to the passenger door as she staggers clumsily, “come on.”

He angles her around with one arm around her back and opens the door. He gets her into the seat as she giggles and her hand flutters down his shirt. He pulls away as he catches her hand before she can get any lower. You linger by the back of the car and act like you’re not watching.

He mutters but you can’t make out his words. He clicks the seat belt around your mom and slams the door. You wince and the wheel of your tank squeaks. He sighs and his shadow turns to you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he opens the backdoor, “come on. I’ll get you two home.”

You nod and come forward, head and shoulders down. “Thanks,” you drag your tank with you, “sorry.”

“Sorry, for?” He wonders.

You sniff and shake your head. You don’t know how to answer. How do you explain the truth to him?

“Here,” he reaches for your tank as you say nothing. “Let me help.”

You have to keep from crying out and reach to shove him away. You’re overly protective. You have to be. That’s what keeps you going and you’re just not used to other people touching it. He lifts it as he nudges you gently.

You grab the side of the door and haul yourself up. You heave as you fall into the seat, light-head and he fits the tank in in front of you. He reluctantly lets it go and tickles your knee.

“You okay?” He asks.

You watch his hand. You nod and grab the seat belt, “fine.”

“Hmm, I should probably look into some more accessible, huh?”

“No, no,” you protest weakly. “I manage.”

“Well, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have to just manage. You should be comfortable. That’s why I took your case.” He brings his hand up and surprises you as he brushes your cheek. You twitch. “You like dinner?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer and flatten yourself to the seat. “Thank you.”

He hums and tickles your skin before he recoils. He draws back and grabs the door. He gently shuts it as his eyes cling to you. Your heart is racing. You’re breathless yet that isn’t so unusual.

He gets in the front seat and your mother babbles and reaches for him again. He swats her back and starts the car. She mutters and slumps into the door.

“Danica,” he says. She doesn’t respond. He repeats it louder. She snorts. He curses under his breath. You’re happy she passed out, it’s worse when she doesn’t.

You sit in silence as Andy backs out of the space. He looms rigidly as you shrink as small as you can. Usually, he’s nice. He has this way about him that you assume comes from being a lawyer. He makes himself approachable. But not right now. He’s agitated. You can feel it fuming off of him.

“I’m sorry,” you eke out as the tension strangles you.

“You don’t need to apologise for her,” he insists with another sigh.

“But... she drinks because of me. I know.” You say. “Because I’m sick.”

He clucks and squeezes the wheel tighter. “No, that’s a bad excuse. She’s an adult.”

You don’t argue. There’s no reason too. For once, someone isn’t blaming you. Besides, how far did it ever get you.

He drives on and you turn to watch the dark buildings pass outside the window. The moon is a sliver above and the stars a speckle around the wisps of clouds. You stare up into the expanse, admiring the streaks of dark blue, black, and grey.

As the car slows, you tear your eyes from the sky. You blink in confusion. You’re not at your house, but Andy’s. You’ve been there once before.

He shuts the engine off then sits back and spreads his hand across his forehead, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I just realised I’m at the wrong house.”

You stay silent. You thought your mom was asleep. He turns to look at you as he flicks on the compartment light. You squint at the sudden brightness. He means you.

“Do you need anything at your house?” He asks. “Medicine or...”

“It’s... in my pack,” you touch the belt bag across your stomach. “Tank’s mostly full.”

He nods and looks you over, “I’m sorry. It’s been a long night. You don’t mind the guest room?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to make his life any harder. And he should apologise to you. No one does that. They don’t owe you that.

“Alright, again, I know it’s not easy for you. Probably a lot cozier at home,” he turns straight and shuts off the light. “Let me get your mom inside.”

He unbuckles his seat belt and his keys jingle as he opens his door. You click the button on your belt and pull the handle. You push outward and the door is pulled from the other side. Andy appears in front of you. He helps get your tank to the ground and offers his hand.

You don’t want to be rude so you let him help you down. You wheel around your tank as he shuts the door, the opens the passenger side. He ducks into the car and drags your mom out. He stands straight and shuts the door with his elbow.

“Sorry to ask but could you unlock the door? Code is...” he gives you the numbers and you blink as you try to keep track of them.

“Okay,” you nod and shuffle past him as he waits. You go up the walk and lift your tank up the low stone steps. You’re overly aware of him behind you.

You get to the door and stare at the keypad. As you enter the numbers, you realise they’re familiar. It must be a coincidence. In a certain format, they would denote your birthday. The pad flashes green and the door clicks.

You push down the lever and step back out of the way.

“Go on,” he nods.

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “Mom needs to lay down.”

He looks down at the woman in his arms then at you. Even in the dark, you see his disappointment. Again, you can’t help but wonder why he puts up with her. You have no choice, as she has no choice in taking care of you, but he does.

“You’re a good daughter,” he says as he slowly steps past you.

You trail after him, your tank bouncing through the door, and you shut it behind you. You stand on the mat and roll your wheels back and forth, trying to get the excess dirty from them. Then you sit to take off your shoes.

“You can turn on a light,” Andy chuckles as his shadow looms over you.

You stare up at his silhouette. He’s close. He must not realise it in the dark. You turn and flip the switch.

He smiles as he keeps a hold of your mom, “I’ll put her on the couch for now,” he says, “then I’ll get you settled.”

You nod and bend to move your shoes onto the rack. You don’t look up again. You’re hot. Very hot, even though cool air flows from the vent just across from you. It’s just because you’re used to being at home. That’s it.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #defending jacob #compos mentis

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unfinishedslurs · 2 years

Text

matchmaking gone wrong (steddie)

“So,” Murray says, smarmy little smirk in place. Steve kind of hates him. “How long have you two been dancing around each other?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, now,” he says. “Everyone can see it. Or, well, maybe they can’t, but I can. Small town boys, both fighting against the odds. Alternate dimensions bring people together in the strangest ways, don’t they?”

“Hey, now,” Steve objects, shooting a panicked glance next to him. Eddie hasn’t moved a muscle since Murray opened his big mouth. His pose reminds Steve of a frightened rabbit, frozen in the eye of a snake.

“Hey, now,” Murray mimics. “Real eloquent, Steve.” He says Steve like he’s saying something else. If he’s not careful, Steve is going to punch his fucking teeth in.“I gotta say, when I met you, you managed to take me by surprise. I really thought you were gonna be different. Small town rich boy, right? Big house, no parents, thought I knew the type. But you’ve managed to turn it on its head, haven’t you? Still, you’re lonely. Must be nice, having all those kids in your house. Less empty with them around. And Eddie here, too. I bet it’s real nice with him around.”

“Dude,” Steve says, prickling. He doesn’t know what eloquent means, or what that has to do with anything, but he really does not like what this guy is putting down. What business does this washed up mess of a conspiracy theorist have digging into Steve’s personal life? He chances another look at Eddie, who has unfrozen in favor of straightening up and glaring at Murray.

“What the fuck do you know?” he spits, vicious in the way he only ever is when he’s defending someone. Steve is touched, really.

“I know a lot,” Murray says, smile growing ever wider. “Like that you sleep in his bed, even though there’s…what, three perfectly good guest rooms here?”

“Two,” Steve corrects automatically. “The other one is Max’s.” Unofficially, of course, but she sleeps here enough that everyone else knows she’s claimed it. Technically it’s one and a half, given that Dustin is slowly taking over the one next to hers, but Ms. Henderson is actually responsible so he only stays the night occasionally. Robin just sleeps in Steve’s bed with them.

He realizes his mistake when Murray’s smile grows even wider. “Two!” He exclaims. “Two guest bedrooms, and yet you sleep in his bed, wake up next to him, end up with his pillow lines on your face. I bet it’s nice, huh? To have him soothe your nightmares, to fall asleep knowing he’s there. We like Steve, indeed. How could a man possibly resist? Tell me, Eddie, is that handkerchief in your pocket just for show? I’d have thought masochism was more your style.”

“Hey!” Steve barks. Eddie jumps next to him, and Steve puts his hand over his unthinkingly. Murray’s eyes track the movement, but Steve speaks before he can open his mouth.

“Not cool, man,” he says firmly. Eddie’s hand is trembling under his, and Steve thinks that Murray is lucky that he cares more about comforting Eddie than he does about punching the smug look off his fucking face.

“What’s not cool?” Murray asks. “Telling you two to get your shit together, for the betterment of us all?”

“You barely fucking know us,” Steve snaps. “There’s no ‘betterment of us all,’ Jesus. You can’t just…you can’t…” he lowers his voice, like he can protect Eddie from hearing it if he tries hard enough. “You can’t just out people, man. You should fucking know better.”

Eddie’s frozen again. Steve doesn’t look at him, instead staring Murray down like a challenge. The man does lose steam with that, wilting like a weed in the heat. “Ah,” he says. “I…ah, hell, I thought you knew.”

“What I know doesn’t mean shit if he’s not the one who told me,” Steve says. Eddie makes a sound, slowly sliding his hand out from under Steve’s. Steve lets him, resisting the urge to grab it back. He knows Eddie won’t run away from him, even if he wants to. “And what if you’d been wrong about me being cool, huh? Seriously man, aren’t you supposed to be smart or something? Act like it.”

Murray opens his mouth again, but Eddie interjects. “As fascinating and eye opening as this has been,” he says, clapping his shaking hands together, “I need to be gone, like, before this conversation ever happened. I appreciate your attempt to get me into golden boy’s pants over here, really, but, uh, yeah. I think the whole being straight thing kind of puts a damper on that, don’t you?”

“You’re straight?” Steve blurts out, hurt and embarrassed all at once. Well, shit, there goes whatever Steve thought they were hurtling towards. And after Steve just confessed he thought Eddie was gay. Is that discrimination? He’s going to kill Robin, dammit, she’s the one who pointed out Eddie’s hanky in the first place.

“What?” Eddie asks. “No, you are.”

“I am?”

“Yes!”

“Uh,” Steve says, extremely confused. Is Eddie coming out as straight for him? He’s pretty sure this is supposed to go, like, the opposite way. “Since when?”

“Since—“ Eddie’s mouth drops open. “I thought since always, Harrington, what the fuck?”

“Me what the fuck?” Steve sputters. “You what the fuck! You thought I was straight?”

“Of course I did!” Eddie throws his hands up. “You’re, like, the epitome of straight jock!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says. “Because my painted nails and affinity for sucking cock scream heterosexual man.”

Affinity might be a stretch given that he’s only ever sucked one dick in his entire life, but hey, a little embellishment never hurts. He wasn’t awful at it. The painted nails weren’t actually his choice, either, thanks to El’s killer puppy eyes, but still. He’s been blatantly flirting with Eddie for months now. Would it kill him to notice?

Eddie doesn’t seem to have a response for this, mouth opening and closing without sound.

“Well,” Murray says at last. Steve and Eddie both jump, having completely forgotten about him. “I guess you needed my help after all.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says, rounding on him. “I don’t need your help for jack-fucking-shit, alright? I am a grown-ass man. I am not repressed, I am not in denial, and I am not thanking you for this. You messed up my plan!”

“Your plan?” Eddie asks.

“Your plan,” Murray repeats, amused.

“Yes, my plan,” he hisses. “You’re not smarter than everyone else just because you don’t like the government, asshole. None of us like the fucking government, we’re just not about to go off the rails and become total shut-ins about it. We fucking get it, you’re lonely and have no friends. We don’t need you to tell us our own business for us, okay? You want to talk about getting help? Go to a fucking AA meeting and leave us alone.”

The skin around Murray’s eyes tightens. Steve might feel bad, if it weren’t for the fact that he’d fucking outed Eddie. Mistake or not, it doesn’t matter that Steve already knew if Eddie wasn’t ready to fucking tell him.

Eddie’s hand on his arm stops him from saying much worse.

He doesn’t turn around, just stares Murray down like a warning. Murray looks back at him, seemingly unimpressed, but Steve can see shame in the line of his shoulders. There’s apology in his eyes when he breaks Steve’s gaze to glance at Eddie.

He’s not a bad guy, Steve knows. Joyce tells them fondly about how he helped her and Hopper get their shit together. How they’d both be Russian chow ten times over if it wasn’t for him. Nancy, too, has some good things to say about the guy. He was the one who helped her get word out about Barb’s death. He helped her get with Jonathan too, even if that didn’t exactly work out.

And it’s not like he blames Murray for Nancy cheating on him. She’s her own person, and makes her own decisions, even if they’re shitty, hurtful ones that he’s still not sure he’ll ever fully get over.

Jonathan said it best, once. He’s weird, and nosy, and annoying, and I don’t really like him. But I think he really just wants to help, in any way he can. Plus he’s a really good cook.

Steve breaks.

“Just get out of my house, man,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Joyce will be happy to host you for the night, they’ve got a spare room there. Tell her my house was too ‘rich kid’ for you, or something. But you’re not staying here anymore.”

Murray nods, accepting this at face value. He gets up from the table, pausing to snag the vodka. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” he offers, and disappears before either of them can reply.

“So,” Eddie says, after a considerable length of silence. His voice shakes slightly. “That was, uh, enlightening.”

He huffs a tired laugh. “That’s one word for it,” he says, finally turning to look Eddie in the eye. He’s shifty, eyes flitting around the room, hands playing out guitar chords against the counter. Steve takes one in hand.

Eddie stills, finally looking at his face. Steve won’t force eye contact, but he needs to know Eddie’s focusing on him and not whatever shitty thoughts are flying across his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he offers quietly. “I didn’t know he’d try that shit with us, when I told Hopper he could stay here.”

Eddie resumes his finger chords. “It’s not your fault he’s an asshole.”

“I know,” he says. “Still, that wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“Go? ‘Go’ what? What’s going?”

Steve shuts his eyes. “Us. I wasn’t going to say anything yet. Not until after you told me you were…”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “Right.”

“Yeah.”

“I can get out of your hair, man, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“What?” Steve‘s eyes fly open. “No! I’m not kicking you out, what the fuck?”

“You’re not?”

“Literally what part of that conversation made you think that’s where this was headed?” He demands.

“I dunno, man,” Eddie confesses. “Good things don’t really happen to people like me.”

“And I’m a good thing?” Steve tries to joke, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie doesn’t take the bait, just briefly meets Steve’s eyes and lowers his voice. “Steve, you’re, uh. You’re kind of one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“Oh,” falls weakly from his lips.

“Shit, was that too much? That was totally too much, sorry, I’m not good at this. You can totally kick me out now, fuck, that’s so embarrassing—“

Steve kisses him.

“Honestly, I’m not that worried about it,” Eddie says, laying with his feet on Steve’s pillow and head hanging off the bed.

“Really?”

“I mean, like, it was a dick thing to do, but what’s he gonna do? Tell the whole town? They all know about me anyway.”

Steve kind of shrugs at this, because as much as he wishes it weren’t true he’s right. He’s walked past fag sharpied on Eddie’s locker enough times to know that unlike Steve, he never really had the luxury of hiding it.

“People always just knew,” he tells Steve. “Don’t know how, don't know why. I’m not sure I‘ve ever actually come out to anyone except Wayne, and that was more of a bitter, self-loathing explosion than anything. It backfired, obviously. Instead of kicking me out, he told me he loved me and I cried so hard I threw up. Totally embarrassing. But even with Wayne…I didn’t have to. It’s like it was tattooed on my forehead, or something. Too soft, too close with other boys, too obvious. So I leaned into it. Learned to fight, ‘cause getting beat up might end in something worse. Let my freak flag fly, let ‘em focus on the DND and the devil worshiping because somehow that was better than being queer.”

Steve, who’d also known about Eddie long before Eddie had told him, bites his tongue.

“I think he’s safe,” Eddie finishes with a nod. “He really did seem like he wouldn’t have said anything, if he’d known I hadn’t told you. Which is hilarious to me, by the way, because I’d just kind of assumed I didn’t have to so you might have just waited forever. Plus I think he and Hopper have, like, a vibe.”

Steve chokes. “A vibe?”

“They’re not fucking,” he clarifies, “but they have fucked, yanno?”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Nah, man. I bet that’s why Hopper asked us to host him, instead of offering up his spare room immediately. Your ex and your new squeeze living together?” He whistles lowly. “Awkward.” “I don’t want to know this,” Steve declares, flipping face first into his pillow. He pushes Eddie’s stinky feet away from his face, ignoring his squawk. “Why would you give me information? Now I have to look Hopper in the eye knowing that his taste in men is Murray.”

#stranger things fanfic #murray bauman #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #implied past murray/hopper because i think it's funny #accidental outing #i like murray matchmaking steddie as much as the rest of them #but occasionally i wonder how it would fit in the time period as two queers instead of 'straight' couples #and my immediate thought was that it would Not Go Well #murray IS obnoxious and i love him for it #matchmaking gone wrong au

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1u11ablues · 2 months

Text

❝ good morning. no, don’t get up, it’s raining, let’s stay in bed a little longer… ❞ (Company Boss Simon 'Ghost Riley' x Reader)

Warning: Implied nsfw.

Petrichor scented the room. Outside, the wind lilted, enticing you to ignore the cold air running in from the window. A siren tempting her victim to freeze to death.

You wouldn’t care, typically, but the rain slanted in a way that aimed straight into the little room you’ve found yourself in.

You got up to gray. As is the typical colour pallette for the English, with their rain and their clouds and their rare sighting of sun. One could get sick of such things, eventually…

Strong arms slithered up around your waist.

Oh, right. You forgot why you were in this unfamiliar room to begin with.

A night out with your colleagues. Mr. Riley, your boss, making a surprise appearance. You, trying your best not to make it too obvious that you were crushing on him. Even going as far as to pick a seating as far away from the head of the table, but-

How were you to know that he likes to sit with his employees more?

Flashes of images greeted you as you remembered. Him never letting you pour your own drinks out. Making sure your water is always refilled. Him eating with one hand because his big arms made it hard for you to fit both of yours on the table to eat comfortably—and he insisted that you used both of yours.

God, maybe he’d noticed you stealing glances at the way his free hand rests on his thighs, how his fingers almost dipped in and pointing down where his trousers seemed to have trouble hiding a gift.

When your mind started heading towards sinful territories, you excused yourself. Said you were coming down with something. You decided to stop by the washroom to cool your overheated skin off before calling for a ride, but when you exited, was greeted by your boss with a first-aid pack that seemed tiny for his hands.

“Need anything from here?”

You should’ve just said no and dashed right out. But the people pleasing tendencies won that night.

“Paracetamol,” you simply said, reaching a palm out, expecting him to pop open two pills and send you home. Well, you didn’t expect him to actually stepped forward and placed the back of his knuckles against your temple, gauging your temperature.

Thank god you were actually feeling a little warm.

“There’s a clinic down the road. Let me,” and before you know it, your purse was in his hands, and he urged you with only his presence on your back.

When the clinic came into view, you finally admitted that you weren’t really that sick.

“We should check, just in case,” he spoke, the sight of your purse trapped underneath his arm and torso the only thing keeping you distracted from total humiliation right then and there.

“It’s fine, sir. A good night’s sleep is all I need,” you assured. Funny how life decided to laugh and throw in a heavy storm as extra.

“We can’t drive home in this weather,” he complained, hair wet from the downpour, and his arms on grand display. What is it with men and their habits of rolling the sleeves of their shirts up?

“There’s a motel right across,” your idiot mouth suggested, thinking it will only be a while to wait the rain out.

Well, now you’re wet and shivering and it’s almost midnight with no signs of the storm passing. In a one bed motel room with its fluffy duvet and warmer sheets than the death fabric clinging to you.

“I think you should get in bed, love,” he suggested when he noticed you looking at it longingly. Also a wet and shivering mess, stood guard, looking outside the window. “Hang your wet clothes to dry and get warm under the blanket. I’ll leave soon as the rain stops.”

Neither of you seemed to be having the best of luck that night.

“Sir, I think you should do the same. It doesn’t seem like it’ll stop soon.”

“Fuck,” he cursed just as his lips began to pale, stripping down hurriedly before jumping into the bed beside you.

It took a while for him to warm up. Perhaps too long for your comfort.

“Are you still cold, sir?”

He nodded with a twitch of his jaw.

Worried, you pull the covers up until his head is covered. Having no other ideas on how to warm up a man that doesn’t involve touching him.

Eventually, you had to put that suggestion forward, anyway. You called down and requested for warm tea to be sent up, and after he’d downed a cup, braced yourself for your question.

“I’m plenty warm, sir. I’d like to share some of it with you, sir.” I’m not trying to take advantage of you, sir.

In hindsight, you should’ve expected the difficulty that comes with cuddling someone you’re attracted to, skin to skin.

So something twitched. Jerked. Leaked and stained.

By then, the elephant is the room.

“I’m not known to keep a warmed woman wanting,” he joked with his arms under his head, “but there’s always a first time for everything.”

You scoffed.

“You say that as if your dick isn’t trying to lift the covers off me.”

“I never said I’m not. Wanting.”

“What happens in this room stays in this room?”

Neither of you couldn’t believe the words that naturally tumbled out of you. But it was too late to reel in the rampant thoughts that should’ve been spoken with your inside voice.

What happened next was a flash. It took all but seconds before he pulled you into a crashing kiss. Hovered over you as his lips trailed kisses down your body, stopping just before the apex of your thighs.

Foreplay was too intimate when you know this moment was stolen.

“You’re all but ready,” he echoed your thoughts before pushing in.

That did the trick of stoking the furnace in him right up. He was no longer shivering from the cold, but from the high of his orgasm as it painted your stomach—both of you trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum. Everyone knows how thin motel walls are.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, settling into a sleepy embrace behind you after he’d cleaned you up.

Fatigue and bliss kept you from overthinking. But now, in the wee hours of the morning—storm still somehow going strong—your worry blossomed.

Thoughts keep you from falling back into comfortable slumber until the arm pulls you up close to the body behind you. An ongoing heater now that he was able to warm himself up.

“Good morning,” a sleepy murmur came out of him.

Your shiver had nothing to do with the cold blasting into the room. You got up to try to close the windows back up, but stopped by his hold.

“No, don’t get up.”

“It’s raining, sir. I need to close the window before the room gets wet.”

He pressed you firm onto the bed. Sat up and jogged straight to the window to shut it close tight.

“Please, call me Simon,” he said, gazing straight into your eyes. “And please, let’s stay in bed a little longer. We’ll think about the consequences of this later.”

When life throws you a storm…

#fanfic #simon riley x reader #call of duty #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #lullatriesprompts

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dancingtotuyo · 6 months

Text

8. a cry of my heart to see

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Tragedy strikes Jackson

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: blood, medical care (probably bad I'm not a doctor tried to keep it brief and vague), Character Death, loss, grief, funeral, smut, P I V, cream pie, Oral sex (F receiving)

Notes: Shout out to my girl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for the beta read!

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3273

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND IS INTENDED FOR READERS 18 YEARS AND OLDER. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT OR READ.

One Year Later

He’s been out on patrol for days. They’re widening the perimeter and he’s on the initial team to do so. It’s nerve-wracking. You’re losing sleep.

Maria tries to assure you they’re fine. No news is good news, but it falls on deaf ears. Her husband isn’t out there in unexplored areas. Joel is. Tommy tries to hide his worry. Despite both their assurances, you know they’re concerned. It’s risky.

For the most part, life goes on. Ellie has been staying in your guest room since Joel left. You thought she would look forward to having the house to herself, not that Joel doesn’t already spend the majority of nights at your house. You wonder if she fears the same thing you do.

They’re supposed to be back in a week, but day 8 passes without sign of them.

On the ninth day, one of the gate watchmen barrels into the clinic, causing you to knock over an entire bin of instruments you had just boiled. His eyes are wide, skin pale causing your stomach to drop.

“What is it?”

“We just spotted them about a mile out. They’re down a rider. Another looks pretty banged up, can barely sit up in the saddle.”

"Who?” You fight the urge to vomit.

“We don’t know.”

“Go get Pooley.” The panic is setting in. You can’t do this. You can’t go into concerned girlfriend mode. Is that what you are? It doesn’t sound quite right. No, you need to be the medical professional you were taught to be. Calm, cool, collected like the professional you were on the UT Trauma team.

The man nods, rushing out of the clinic. You look around, pulling out everything you might need for easy access. You don’t know if he was mulled or shot or something else. This is hardly the first time something like this happened, but it’s the first time you haven’t been able to focus.

It’s silly in hindsight, but you never worried quite like this over Gabe. He always promised to come back. He seemed so confident that he would that you’d bought into his confidence, and he always did until he didn’t.

Once you’re convinced you’re set up enough to take care of the incoming injured, your feet carry you out toward the gate. It’s beautiful out today. The sun shines. Birds chirp and bees buzz. The kids play tag in the apple orchard, but it all feels like a bad dream like the world is moving in slow motion. There’s a ringing in your ears.

The gate is just opening as the group draws closer. A small crowd has already formed, mostly the families of those sent out. You’re too far away to see out of the gate so you have to wait for them to file in.

The first rider comes in. It’s not Joel. You can feel your grip on reality fading. You’re trying to stay. You have a job to do. Maria appears next to you as the second rider crosses in. She tugs you closer to the chaos, through the families waiting with bated breath. Two more. Not Joel. She brings you next to Dr. Pooley who waits ready to spring into action. People make room around you so you can tend to the injured as soon as they come in.

Another pair cross into safety. John Lacy holds the reins of Adam Perkin’s horse as Adam hunches over in the saddle looking closer to death than life. John has them next to you within seconds, spewing the story of his injury to you and the doctor. You can’t pay attention, going on your tiptoes to catch sight of the last rider, but the horses block your view. The gate is closing now.

“Maria?” You look at her in desperation, pulled between the need to help and get status on Joel.

She gives you a nod and dashes off to investigate further.

Adam half rolls out of the saddle, in and out of consciousness before several strong sets of arms aid him to the ground.

“Someone get the gurney!” A voice calls out as you fall to your knees beside the man. It’s your voice. Your body is taking over, but your brain is still elsewhere. The ringing in your ears grows louder. “Someone tell me what we’re looking at!” Your shaking hands rip the stained flannel and undershirt. They're already rags anyway.

“Took a knife to the gut two days ago. Closed it up but it got infected and reopened on the way back,” John reports.

“And you didn’t stop to close it back up?” You yell.

“We had to drop the med bag.”

You groan in frustration. Dr. Pooley takes vital signs. Even in the haze you notice the signs that he’s over concentrating. His lips move to count Adams BPM and then he stops and starts over.

“What do you have for me, Doc?” You’re desperate for help. Desperate for the old man to be able to do his job, but you see it in his face. He’s about to admit what you’ve assumed for months.

“I don’t know,” he looks as lost as you feel right now, drowning in the panic of his own mortality. His own brain ceasing to work. You’ve seen the signs of dementia for months, and now the moment you need his help the most, he can’t think straight. You need his brain. You need to talk through this.

“Gurney!” Someone yells, pushing toward you with the homemade gurney. It’s more of a litter you’d find in a medieval era movie, but it does the trick.

They slam it to the ground, you don’t even have to let out the instructions before someone is counting and Adam is moved onto the stretcher. “Carefully!” You keep pressure on his wound, it’s definitely bleeding again. They must’ve missed something or it’s been bleeding internally all this time. Damnit!

You’re almost to the clinic when you hear it, a life preserver in the raging ocean, Ellie’s voice. “JOEL!”

You turn to see her arms wrapped around his midsection, holding her as tight as she does to him. His eyes flicker to yours, and it’s like you snap back into your body with a thud, your mind crisp and clear. He smiles weakly your way and you can breathe again.

You’re not sure how long it takes you. You’re pretty sure you’ve technically just performed a surgery you were in the room for once as a nurse 22 years ago. You probably missed most of the steps, but you know it was Adam’s only hope. Joyce Dobbins comes in with a poultice that’s supposed to help fight infection and “doctors him right up” as she likes to say. You don’t know enough to have an opinion. She’s the herbalist.

You shower at the clinic, bones weary and eyelids drooping. Joyce knows enough to monitor him over night as does Rachel, Adam’s wife.

You stumble home, the days events replaying on repeat in your head. The multiple times you thought you were going to lose Adam yet he somehow never faded. Lindsey’s never ending sobs from the backroom as she mourned Paul, you delivered their baby three years ago. Joel standing there giving you exactly what you needed so you could save a friend.

Most of the time, it’s easy to ignore the dangers of the outside world while tucked within the walls of Jackson, your slice of normal in the world. Tonight is not one of them.

You stumble up the porch stairs, anything but graceful as you cross the threshold. The house is quiet- no, peaceful. It’s an odd feeling compared to your raging mind. The house is clean, spotless. The orange glow of your living room lamp and the kitchen light warm you. Rumours spins in the corner, halfway through Songbird. You catch Joel in the kitchen wiping down the countertops. Your tea kettle whistles softly as he turns off the gas stove.

“Joel…” your voice is hoarse. He spins around. He doesn’t smile, only walks toward you, pulling your limp frame into his as soon as he can. “I missed you,” you whisper.

“I missed you too, Sweetheart.” His face burrows into the crook of your neck.

“I thought…” you can’t finish the sentence without tears falling down your cheeks. He rocks you both softly.

“Shhh, I know. I know.”

He kisses your head softly and then your lips. As much as you want to fall into bed, he forces you to eat something, drink the tea he’s brewed for you. You can barely sit upright, but you eat and drink and finally, he guides you upstairs, tucks you into bed, and curls up behind you. You fall asleep before he starts whispering sweet reassurances in your ear.

You pull yourself out of bed earlier than you should. You have to go check in on Adam at the clinic. No news is good news. Anytime you’re not dragged out of bed after a day like yesterday, it’s a good thing.

He’s not conscious but his fever is lower than it was when you left and that eases your worries some. Rachel doesn’t leave his bedside.

Lindsey is in the backroom as they re- wrap Paul’s body. They’ll bury him today. He’s already been dead for three days. You take Lindsey’s hand without a word, standing solemn next to her.

A hot tear marks your cheek as you watch Maria and Joyce diligently work. You were never awarded this luxury, could never gaze upon Gabe’s face one last time. Didn’t get to say goodbye.

He has a tombstone in the cemetery. You don’t visit it often. He’s not there, his ashes spread to the wind now, rolling over the earth like invisible tumbleweeds. He probably likes that better anyway.

The funeral is short, but all of Jackson crowds around for the service, to bury their fallen friend. Joel holds you close, arm wrapped around your waist. You lean heavy against him, gaining all your support from his frame. Carter and Ellie sit on the ground in front of you.

When it’s time to lower Paul into the ground, Joel makes sure you’re steady on your feet before joining the rest of the patrol group. Adam is still unconscious in the clinic. They lower his body to the ground with precision that is too practiced. You wonder if he’s thinking of her, how he had to leave her body behind. He calls out her name at night sometimes. You know he’s reliving the night Sarah died.

Lindsey’s cries start to pick up again. You slide onto the bench beside her, squeezing her hand tightly. Grace sits opposite you and Elaine stands behind. You don’t know Lindsey that well, but she’s joined your ranks now. Other women who have lost spouses close in around the grieving woman, a moment of solidarity. It’s a group that’s too large for your liking, too many lives taken.

Joel holds your hand on the walk home. You keep walking, taking your path earlier than normal. You don’t speak, too many memories in your mind, too many emotions flooding your heart.

You stop in at the clinic. Adam is in and out of consciousness. Joyce is giving him something for the pain.

You cut your walk short, just one lap tonight. There’s a note on the door. Carter is at Maria and Tommy’s for a sleepover. You sigh in relief, thankful to not have to worry about another human being tonight.

Joel helps you out of your shoes. He helps you upstairs. His hands move slowly over you, half roaming, half massaging your weary muscles. He follows your collarbone and shucks the cardigan from your shoulders, frees you from your jeans leaving you in nothing but a tank top. It’s one of the few times his eyes don’t immediately land on your exposed crotch. He can’t help but chuckle at your commitment to not wearing underwear.

Fingers delve into your tight calves. You let out a soft moan as you fall back into the mattress, sheets cool against your skin.

Your eyes close, relishing in the feeling of him. This is the first real chance you’ve had to spend together since he got back. There’s nothing inherently sensual to his movements and the way he touches you, but your body heats in response, craving the connection, the assurance.

The air shifts as your breath hitches. His fingers crawl up your legs leaving tiny trails of fire as he presses a kiss to each of your calves. Desire begins to burn in your body, slow and hot. “Joel…” You moan, legs falling open.

“I know, Sweetheart,” He feels it too, voice low and thick as his eyes darken. “I know.”

Your hands tangle in his curls as he takes his time covering your thighs in kisses, swiping his tongue over your skin from time to time. “I’m here,” he says again. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

There’s no rush to the finish line, neither of you have the energy for that tonight. It’s slow, languid like a hike up a steep cliff as his mouth slowly greets your slick cunt, his tongue runs through your folds at a steady pace over and over and over and over. He’s pulling you closer to the edge, taking his time until finally, you cry out arching into his mouth, spilling more of yourself onto his tongue.

He pulls away, chin glistening in your soft bedroom light, proud smile on his lips. “That’s my girl.”

You whimper in response, hands traveling up his forearms. His calloused palms roam over your thighs and hip, fingers drawing soft patterns across your skin.

Leading with his lips, he makes his way up your sternum. Not a drop of urgency in his body, he eases up your tank top. It’s like he has all the time in the world. You wish for all the time in the world as long as you get to spend it with him.

Finally, his lips meet yours. You taste yourself on his lips as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your hands wander his shoulder and neck, your fingers glide through his hair again. Nails rake down his back. At some point he shed his shirt and pants, leaving him bare against you.

“Lay on your back,” you say.

He pulls back slowly, eyebrows raised. “What are you thinking about?”

“Having you on your back.”

He chuckles, warm arms wrapping around your middle as he rolls over. You brace yourself on your knees. His hard cock presses against your thigh. You run it through your folds. Joel lets out a soft moan as his eyes glaze with lust. “Fuck, Sweetheart. Let me in there.”

“Patience,” you chide, but have no intention of keeping him waiting for long.

You nudge his dick against your clit, sending sparks through your veins until you center your opening over him. He holds your hips as you slowly sink onto him. You stretch around him, filling you so completely. Once you’ve taken him to the hilt, you sit there, eyes focused on each other exchanging soft pants.

Your cunt clenches around him, pulling moans from both of you, but you don’t move, hands finding purchase against his soft stomach, thumb running through his dark happy trail. The two of you bask in the feeling of your skin against the other’s, desperate for the certainty that you’re alive and breathing, that the blur you’re living in is reality and you still have each other.

He cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Your teeth scrape against it. Then you lift up just a little bit, keeping him mostly inside you before you sink back down. You keep the slow pace as you ease up and down, increasing the distance a little more each time.

Joel’s eyes never move from you, sometimes meeting yours and other times appreciating your naked form above him. His hand trails down your torso, finding the wet heat of your core. He finds your clit with the precision only granted by his familiarity with your body. He has you memorized, every single inch of you.

You let out a sharp gasp when he touches you. He holds his thumb steady against you, letting your movements drag his thumb across your clit. You clench around him and he groans. Up and down, your hands perched on his hairy chest, nails biting into his pecs.

As you draw nearer to the peak, Joel starts to meet you, hitting a different angle inside of you. You let out a long moan, head tipping backward. Then you reach the crest, cunt milking his cock, coming undone on top of him.

Sweat beads along Joel's forehead as your dripping pussy flutters around him. He’s not far behind you, filling you with his spend. The feel of him inside you, coating you, causes another breathy moan to leave your lips.

“Fuck, Sweetheart.” He pants, pulling you down beside him, sweaty skin flush against his.

You smile softly at him, brushing the curl in front of his forehead back. He kisses your palm. You should feel guilty for enjoying Joel’s comforts, his warm skin against yours when Lindsey lays in an empty bed across the way, but all you feel is relief. You’re grateful to be spared heartache for once.

Eventually, Joel rolls out of bed, returning with a warm washcloth to clean up the mess he left behind. You’ve pulled on his white tshirt. You don’t say a word, just stare at him in the lamp light. He’s beautiful, a gentle giant, and he’s yours.

When he crawls back beside you, he looks at you like he reads every thought in your mind, kisses your forehead, and turns out the lamp. You turn on your side. He spoons you, arm thrown over your waist.

His soft snores start to play in your ears. The crease in his forehead is nonexistent with sleep as you look over your shoulder. Then, it hits you. You’re happy here with him despite the last 48 hours. It feels wrong, like you cheated death. You just hope it doesn’t come back to collect double, but you’re so damn happy. Joel Miller has permeated every single fiber of your being.

You’ve known this, but now, you accept it. Your muscles tense with it. It’s not enough to send you spiraling by any means, but you fought it for so long, you’re not sure how to proceed. You could tell him now, wake him up and finally let the words slip off your tongue. More tension gathers between your shoulders.

Joel mumbles, tightening his grip around you as he pulls you flush against him. He kisses your shoulder.

“Don’t start with that.” Sleep coats his voice. You wonder how he’s so in tune with you even in sleep he can feel the tension.

“Don’t think it works like that.”

He hums, squeezing you again. His lips press between your shoulder blades, beard brushing against your skin sweeping the tension away, pulling the thoughts from your head.

He chuckles as you sink into him. “You sure about that.”

You reach behind you. Your nails rake over his thigh, just above his knee until you find your target. You pluck one of his leg hairs with a practiced precision.

“Ow! Not nice!”

You laugh, burrowing into your pillow. “Go to sleep, old man.”

“Goodnight, Sweetheart.” He kisses your cheek, holding you so close your brain can’t think of anything but his solid frame at your back.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller hbo #tlou #pedro stories #pedrostories #woman (joel's version)#woman (joel miller)

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skalfy · 8 months

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A Poorly Planned Escape

Misa x Reader, ~2k words, part 1/?

hey so I wrote this and I thought why not post it. I've started writing the next part already, so I'll probably post that as well if there is any interest. It didn't start out as being about Misa, but I got partway in and thought "yeah that's definitely about Misa" so here we are. Don't be confused by María, it should become clear that it's misa, not one of the other marías lol. Also my spanish is limited to two semesters several years ago in college, so all dialogue is written in english, but in my mind they are speaking spanish.

I've written things before, but not like this and not posted, so apologies in advance for things like messed up formatting. Also not proofread, but such is life. Enjoy!

no smut, but some general descriptions of people hooking up

You weren’t sure what you had been expecting as shouldered your way into your flat, hands full of leftovers your mum had insisted you take back for Alma, your girlfriend. Probably her form on the sofa, tv bright with one of the Spanish reality shows she preferred. Maybe even a dark, quiet room if Alma was out with her friends, something she seemed increasingly inclined toward the last few months. You certainly weren’t prepared for the sight that did greet you.

Your girlfriend was draped rather artfully across the plush sofa, head thrown back and eyes shut, a position not unfamiliar to you. In fact, the only thing really unfamiliar at all was the stranger who knelt between your girlfriend’s legs. Her smooth, broad shoulders and bowed head obscured the rather intimate details of what was taking place, but between the sounds and the way Alma’s fingers were gripping the stranger’s dark hair, it wasn’t hard to guess. You were frozen in the doorway, watching the ripple of muscle under tan skin as she slid her palms up to your girlfriend’s hips to hold her down, pressing her firmly into the couch. You wondered for a moment what hands that big might feel like against your own hips, shaking your head suddenly when you realized the absurdity of that thought.

After a deep breath to compose yourself, you kicked your heel firmly back into the door, slamming it shut behind you. Both bodies stilled, but it only took a moment before Alma’s head snapped up and her eyes met yours. You turned away, willing your shoulders to stay down and relaxed as you walked to the refrigerator.

“Sorry to interrupt, but my parents say hello. I’m putting the leftovers from dinner in the fridge, please have some. I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite.” You said, back still turned and only a slight waver in your voice. “I think I’ll head out and stay with one of the girls tonight, just need to grab a few things.” Alma didn’t reply.

As you walked into your shared bedroom, you heard a soft voice ask “your roommate?” Alma didn’t reply to that either.

When you emerged a few minutes later, overnight bag over your shoulder, only Alma sat on the sofa. She had clothes on now, shorts she must have been wearing before and a hoodie of yours that had been across the back of one of the sitting room chairs. You resisted the urge to snap at her to take it off.

“I just don’t understand, Alma. I know things haven’t been great, but why didn’t you just say something?” Even as you spoke you knew it didn’t really matter. There was no going back from this and you didn’t need your feelings hurt by whatever reasons she gave. You sighed and turned toward the door again. “I’ll call you to sort things out once I’ve calmed down.”

You thought she wouldn’t say anything at all, but as your hand grasped the doorknob, she finally spoke, “Are we done?”

“Yeah, Alma, I think we are.” You pulled the door open and left.

When the elevator doors opened at the ground floor of your building, you were surprised to see a familiar figure. She was fully clothed now, but the broad shoulders and thick, wavy hair were unmistakable to you. She half turned as you stepped into the lobby, dark eyes meeting yours. You expected her to look away, but instead she held the eye contact. She was striking--beautiful, but intimidating, all heavy eyebrows and unreadable expression.

“I’m sorry.” She said, still not looking away.

“Did you know she had a girlfriend?” You asked.

“No.” She shook her head.

“Then it wasn’t your fault.” You gave a half smile. “I thought you might be trying to escape my wrath, but it looks like you didn’t get far.”

At this she finally looked away, shrugging a little uncomfortably as she answered, “My phone is dead, and I-- well, I’m still figuring the escape out.”

“I can give you a ride home.” You spoke without thinking, regretting it when the silence stretched afterwards. “I’m leaving anyway, and I promise I won’t try to kill you or anything.”

“If you’re sure, I’d really appreciate it.” She said, a smile breaking across her face, “I wouldn’t blame you if you tried to kill me just a little bit, though.”

For a moment, all you could do was stare at her face. The bright smile had turned it from intimidating to adorable, and you were having a difficult time collecting your thoughts with those particularly lethal dimples shining at you. You flashed her a soft smile of your own and gestured to the door.

“Come on then, follow me.”

Once the two of you were seated in your car, you plugged her address into the nav, then scrounged up a charging cable and passed that over to her. Fortunately, her home was near the friend you intended to crash with, so your extra passenger hardly took you out of your way at all. You sent a quick text to your friend letting her know you’d be at her place in around 30 minutes, then put your phone down and backed out of your spot.

The first couple minutes on the road were quiet, just the muffled sound from the city around you mixed with the playlist you’d started and turned down to play quietly. As you sat at a traffic light, you turned for a moment to the woman sitting next to you.

“You know, we haven’t actually introduced ourselves.” You told her your name, then held out your hand for a handshake with mock seriousness. She grasped your hand firmly, mirroring your serious expression and replied,

“I’m María, it’s nice to meet you.”

That opened up the conversation, and the two of you began to chat. It was mostly surface level, but you found yourself actually enjoying it. María was witty and interesting, but most of all she seemed to truly want to listen what you had to say. She was impressed when you described how you had moved to Madrid from London for work right out of uni, explaining that she had at times considered leaving Spain for her own job, but had worried about unfamiliar places and languages. She understood what it was like to live a plane ride away from family, with her parents back in Tenerife. You were happy to ply her with questions about her beautiful homeland, mentally planning a trip there after hearing about the gorgeous beaches and scenery. It wasn’t until María asked her next question that you realized there was a new predicament you were in.

“I think you mentioned dinner with your parents, are they visiting?”

“Yeah,” you replied, “they are here for a week, along with my sister and her husband and their daughter. They aren’t really here to visit me, but it’s a nice bonus. I’m actually taking my niece to-- oh fuck!” You cut yourself off with the exclamation.

“What, what’s wrong?” María asked, startled.

“I was supposed to take my niece to a football game this weekend, she is a huge Real Madrid fan, loves women’s footy. Except I’m now realizing this is a mess, because the only way I could get tickets was a favor from Alma. Her company has a box, and I begged her to get two seats for Luisa and I, but now even if she still lets me use them there’s no way we can sit with all my ex-girlfriend’s coworkers. If I know her at all then at least half of them will have heard all about this by lunch tomorrow, and I don’t think I want my eleven year old niece there to find out how much of the truth she tells.” Your eyes suddenly stung as you tried to take a deep breath. “Sorry, I just realized I’m not sure I can take getting cheated on and being a shitty aunt all in one week.”

“Please don’t apologise for being upset, clearly the only person in this car who should be allowed to say sorry is me.” You managed a sniffle and a small smile at her words. “Also, I definitely can’t fix the first part,” this caught you off guard and you couldn’t stifle a surprised snort, “but I think I can help with the second.”

“María it’s okay, you don’t owe me anything. Plus the game has been sold out for weeks, it’s El Clásico, I already tried to buy tickets before I asked Alma in the first place.” You could feel your voice wavering and fought against the tears. María was quiet in the seat next to you as you pulled up outside her building. You shifted into first and turned the car off, then felt a hesitant hand cover yours on the gearstick.

“I can get you two tickets if you want them, I promise. I work for Real Madrid and there are tickets set aside for us.” She sounded almost desperate.

“I can’t ask you to do that--” you started, then she cut you off.

“I wouldn’t have used them anyway! Please let me do this.” You looked at the big hand on yours, then up at her face. “Not for you, but for an eleven year old girl who loves women’s football.” She had you there and she knew it.

“Yes. Yes, fine!” You smiled at her. “Thank you, María.”

She smiled back at you, then lifted her hand from yours, reaching it up to thumb away the rebellious tear that had made it onto your cheek. You acted on instinct and reached both of your arms out to her shoulders, pulling her into an awkward hug across the car’s center console. She didn’t seem to mind the uncoordinated attempt, accepting it with grace and tucking your head neatly into her shoulder. As she held you there, the most ridiculous thought of the night crossed your mind. Why had Alma cheated on you with María? She wasn’t Alma’s type at all, she was yours.

The two of you separated after another moment, and María pulled her phone out.

“Can you text yourself so I have your number? That way I can let you know where to go to pick the tickets up.” You nodded and did as instructed, sending yourself her name, then replying with yours so neither of you would have any trouble identifying the new number.

“Please let me know if I owe you anything. I know you said the tickets are set aside, but if they cost you then please let me at least cover that.” You got the sense that she would be the type to not mention that if it were the case.

“They normally don’t charge me anything, but I promise I’ll tell you if they do.” She met your eyes and winked-- whether that meant she was trying to reassure you or just that she wasn’t going to make you pay either way you weren’t sure, but you let it go. “One more thing, does Luisa have a favorite player? No guarantees, but I might be able to leave something for her with the ticket agent. The players are usually happy to do something like that.”

“Only if it’s no trouble.” You leveled her with a glare. “She’s always on about Hayley Raso and Linda Caicedo, so either of them’s probably a safe bet.”

“Only if it’s no trouble.” She agreed, with what she must have thought was an innocent expression on her face.

“Please get out of my car before you offer to do anything else for Luisa that will leave me severely in your debt.” You pointed out toward her flat then made a shooing motion with your hand. She huffed out a chuckle then opened her door.

“Thank you for the ride… and for not killing me when you had the chance. Look out for my text!”

With that she hopped out and shut the car door. You watched as she walked up to the building entrance, turned and waved, then stepped inside. After a deep breath, you turned your car back on and drove the last few minutes to your friend’s house.

#woso x reader #misa rodriguez x reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso community #woso imagine

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corroded-hellfire · 2 years

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Where The Heart Is, Part 2 - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: After meeting Eddie over Thanksgiving break, the two of you only want to become closer with one another. You can read part one here.

Note: The response I got to the first part of this truly blew me away. I never expected so many people to leave comments or send me messages, and I just want you all to know how much it means to me. I wasn’t sure if I would continue it or not, because part of me liked where I ended it, but after so many requests, I decided to go further with these two. I have to thank @munson-blurbs for helping me the many times I got writer’s block!

Warnings: phone sex, smut, p in v, oral f! receiving, mentions of trauma, mentions of bad family life, general upside down-related unpleasantness

Words: 17.9k (Whoa.)

[Part 3 | Where The Heart Is masterlist]

The first thing you do when you see your roommate walk into your dorm after returning from Thanksgiving break is tell her to not ignore the phone if it rings. She gives you a funny look, like you’re weird for assuming she’d ignore it at all. But you know her, and if she doesn’t feel like doing something, she won’t. That includes answering the phone.

“Who’s calling you?” she asks. Shelby has a talent for making basic questions sound like insults. Though you have to concede that it is true that no one has ever called you before.

“His name is Eddie.”

Suddenly, she’s interested.

“A boy?” she asks, yet again making it sound like an offensive question.

“Yeah, a boy,” you say. You’re putting the last of your clothes away that you’d brought with you to Hawkins and with each piece you touch, a memory of what you did in it comes to mind. A smile grows on your lips as you pick up the blue sweater you wore when you met Eddie. The soft material gets a small squeeze in your hand before you hang it up.

“You met a guy in Iowa?” Shelby asks as she tosses her suitcase on her bed.

“Indiana,” you correct her. “Yeah, one of Nancy’s friends.”

“And he’s going to call you?”

“Yes,” you say as you roll your eyes, head in your closet. “We really hit it off.”

“Huh,” Shelby muses and you have the urge to strangle her with the pair of tights you just picked up.

Luckily, Shelby decides to stay with her boyfriend in his room for the night, so you can rest from your trip in peace. When the night passes by without Eddie calling, you’re a little disappointed, but also understand because you just saw him this morning. Maybe you were becoming a little obsessed. You sprawl out flat on your back on your bed and stare up at the ceiling. Why is this how it goes? You don’t have feelings for a guy in what feels like forever, then you get hit harder than you could’ve ever possibly imagined you could fall for someone. Thoughts start spinning around your head too loudly for you to possibly get some sleep, so you grab your Walkman from your desk and settle in under your blankets. When you press play, the sound of Queen fills your ears, and you end up falling asleep with an easy smile on your lips.

Alarm startling you awake, noise no longer coming from your headphones since the tape had finished during the night, you jump and clutch at your sheets. Letting the adrenaline that’s surging through your veins abate, you lay back and throw an arm over your eyes. Afraid of falling back to sleep, you push yourself up and start to get ready. You take care to layer up, knowing the biting cold waiting for you once you step outside. Though your black coat looks good when you inspect yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but think Eddie’s leather jacket would look even better.

A gentle snow falls down as you step out of your dorm building, but the harsh wind blows the flakes so fast they sting as they hit your face. You pull your scarf up over your mouth and nose as you make the trek to the English building. As far as early morning Monday classes go, there were far worse ones to have than English.

You’ve finished reading the book you were assigned for the class far ahead of schedule, so the discussion doesn’t hold your attention since everyone is behind you and discussing plot points you already know the resolutions to. Your mind drifts and starts with pleasant thoughts of Eddie, but eventually your own insecurities chime in and make you wonder if he meant it at all when he said he’d call you. Were you dumb for believing him? Did he just want to have a girl to make out with over Thanksgiving and you’d fit the bill?

It’s still going through your mind when you join Nancy for lunch before your last class of the day, which you share with your friend.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask as you sit down across from her in the dining hall.

“You know you can.” She shoots you a smile before taking a bite of her sandwich.

You scratch your nail across your napkin, watching your finger leave holes in its wake. It’s easier for you not to meet her eyes as you speak.

“Did Eddie really like me? Or was I being dumb?”

Nancy stops chewing and lets her sandwich fall back to the plate.

“What? Are you kidding me?”

Your eyes glance up at her before looking into your cup of soda.

“I mean, like, does he treat all girls like this? Am I stupid for thinking I’m special?”

“Look at me.” When you don’t, she reaches over and taps your wrist. “Look. At. Me.” You tilt your head up and meet her eyes. She looks like she wants to throttle you and it makes you shrink under her gaze. “You really think I’d play a part in something that wasn’t real? You think I’d just let him come over in the middle of the night or that I wouldn’t stop him from flirting with you so much if I knew he was just treating you like he treats other girls?”

Shame fills you as you drop your eyes and shake your head. You hadn’t thought about it that way, caught up in your own head and your own insecurities. But Nancy was nothing if not a good friend and she deserved better than to be thought of like that.

“I’m sorry, Nancy, it’s not what I meant,” you say. “You’re right, you would never do anything like that. Ever. I guess I’m just second guessing myself now that I’m back in reality. It kind of feels like Eddie was just some dream I came up with.”

Nancy sighs and picks her sandwich up again. She takes another bite and swallows it before she speaks.

“I get it,” she says. “When I first came here and left Steve back home, I had a hundred negative thoughts running through my mind. And we’ve got years of history and I know you and Eddie only had a few days. Look, I know I told you that I’ve never seen you the way I saw you with Eddie. But I guess I didn’t tell you that I’ve never seen him like that either. Now, to be fair, I haven’t known him well for very long. But when you go through the kind of shit we went through together you do get to know someone well quickly. And as for other girls? I’ve never even heard him talk about a girl before.”

“Oh, come on,” you say with a little laugh. “Look at him. Like he’s never had a girl before?”

“I never said he never had a girl,” Nancy says, shaking her head. “But I’ve never heard him talk about one before. And Eddie is not the kind of guy to play girls. If he tells you he cares about you, he means it. He’s very sincere. Too honest sometimes, if I'm being truthful.”

The smile that comes to your face is involuntary and you try to hide it by taking a sip of your drink. Nancy sees it anyway, but decides not to comment on it, but smiles to herself. You go to take a bite of your mashed potatoes but have to ask one more question first.

“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you? Getting so attached so quickly?”

Nancy shakes her head as she swallows the bite of food currently in her mouth.

“You’re not crazy at all. If you two were talking about going off to Vegas and eloping, I’d be worried. But giving him your phone number? Hardly something drastic to do when you like a guy.”

“I feel crazy,” you admit with a laugh. You drop your fork and rub your hands over your face.

“It is kind of fun for me.” Your friend smirks at you and raises an eyebrow. “Seeing you all riled up like this. So unlike you.”

“It’s why I feel crazy!”

Nancy laughs. “Oh, you’re fine.”

The first day back to classes wears you out. You drag yourself back to your dorm after dinner and collapse on your bed. The winter sun setting earlier in the day makes you want to curl up in bed and call it a night. But your clock tells you it’s only a little after seven.

“I don’t want to be productive,” you mumble into your pillow.

You kick your boots off and force yourself up to switch your things out of your backpack for your classes tomorrow. If you went to bed without doing it, you know you’d end up forgetting in the morning. Luckily, Shelby hasn’t come back to your room so far, but you know it’s only a matter of time.

The phone rings and your textbook slips out of your hand, landing on the tile floor with a loud thud. You trip over it on the way to the shelf between your and Shelby’s beds, snatching the phone up.

“Hello?” you ask.

“Hey.”

Your body practically drops to the floor in relief, grinning to yourself as you sit with your back against the wall and tuck your legs up against your body.

“You sound scared,” you say with a giggle.

Eddie laughs and the sound sends butterflies throughout your body.

“I was scared I was going to get the bitchy roommate!”

“Just me, unfortunately.”

“Bite your tongue,” he says. “You’re the only person I’ve wanted to talk to since we said goodbye at the airport.”

If Shelby were there, she would make fun of you for the rest of the semester for the dopey grin on your face.

“Actually,” Eddie admits, and his voice has gotten quieter. “I wanted to call you last night, but I thought that’d be kind of clingy of me.”

“Honestly? When I was lying in bed last night, I wished you would call.”

“Aw shit, sweetheart,” Eddie says. “You sound just about as lovesick as I am.”

“Lovesick,” you repeat. “That’s a good word for it.”

You hear a breath of laughter on the other end of the line, and you close your eyes to picture what him laughing looks like. His eyes crinkle in the corners and all his bright teeth gleam in happiness.

“How was your first day back?” he asks.

“Exhausting,” you say. “But it’s much better now.”

Eddie groans and the sound should worry you, but it sends heat running south in your body instead.

“You talk all sweet like that and I’m gonna miss you even more,” he says.

Your socked feet tap up and down on the floor in glee and you wrap your arm around your knees.

“Harder to miss me if you’re talking to me,” you say.

“I’m closing my eyes and pretending you’re here next to me.”

“Eddie,” you say with a dreamy sigh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Me? Be the death of you?” He sounds exasperated by the very idea.

“I said what I said.”

Eddie laughs and it solidifies itself as your official favorite sound in the world.

“Do I sound too desperate if I say I want to call you every night?” Eddie asks.

“No more desperate than me,” you say. “But you should go out and have fun with your friends, too.”

“Yeah, I s’pose the Hellfire guys would be kind of pissed if I just stopped showing up,” he says.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “As much as I want to steal you, I don’t think that’d be very fair.”

“Oh princess, you have my full permission to steal me anytime you want to.”

The nickname quickens your heart rate and a buzz tingles down your limbs.

The doorknob to your room turns and you must let out a groan because Eddie asks you what’s wrong.

“Bitch incoming,” you whisper just before the door opens.

Shelby strolls in and gives you a dirty look for sitting on the floor. You choose to ignore her and close your eyes to focus on your conversation.

“Tell her I said she better be nice to you,” Eddie says.

“I don’t think that would work,” you answer.

“Have Nancy kick her ass.”

You laugh and rest your forehead down on your knees.

“She’s tiny but she definitely could,” you say.

“I have homework to do,” Shelby says as she slams a textbook down on her desk.

Eddie must be able to hear her because he scoffs in your ear.

“What crawled up her ass and died?” he asks.

“I can think of a lot of things,” you mumble, and it makes him laugh.

“I don’t want to cause any problems,” Eddie says. “How about I call you tomorrow night, hmm? I get off work at six - uh, that’s seven there. So, I’ll call when I get home?”

“Promise?” you ask.

“Cross my heart, gorgeous.”

“Okay,” you say. “I guess I’ll talk to you then.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

During the next phone call, you make sure to get Eddie’s number so the burden doesn’t always fall on him to call. But no matter who is calling who, you manage to talk to each other at least four days a week. It’s usually more, but sometimes it’s not as often as you’d both like because Eddie has Hellfire or you have a meeting with your baking club, which Nancy had encouraged you to join earlier in the semester. You’d always enjoyed baking, but never got a chance to properly try it out, but with her encouragement, you signed up.

A week to go before Christmas break, Shelby has thankfully gone to spend the night with her boyfriend again, so you have the room to yourself the whole night to talk with Eddie. There hasn’t been a Friday night you’ve both been able to stay up late together since Eddie’s had to work Saturday mornings the last few weeks. Most students from your floor were out at bars, clubs, or somewhere else you wouldn’t want to be caught dead at, but you knew for a fact that Nancy was in the same position as you - curled up in your bed, wearing your comfiest clothes - and talking to her boyfriend at the other end of the hall.

“Okay,” Eddie says once you’ve been on the phone for a little over two hours. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Alright,” you say, tugging your blanket up to your chin in the cool dorm. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Eddie starts. There’s a hitch in his voice and you realize this is the first time you’ve heard him sound a little nervous. “You can totally say no. I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you or trying to make you feel like you have to, o-or…”

“Eddie,” you cut him off with a laugh. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath and your tummy buzzes in anticipation.

“I was wondering if you’d want to come visit for Christmas, maybe?” His voice kept getting higher the further along in the question he got.

“Oh, Eddie, I’d love to,” you say. The smile on your face is so wide it’s hurting your cheeks. “But I don’t want to just assume I’m welcome back at Nancy’s house.”

“Oh, no, no!” Eddie says. “I meant like…do you want to come stay with me?”

The breath catches in your chest and your mouth freezes, unable to form words. Somehow, the breath dislodges itself and you huff what sounds like between a sigh and a laugh.

“You want me to come stay with you?” you ask.

“I sure do.” He says it with such confidence that it makes your eyes water. “Wayne wants to meet you real bad. He said he’s heard enough about you that he feels like he knows you already.”

“Aww, do you talk about me?” you can’t help but tease him despite the strong stinging blush on your cheeks.

“Every chance I get,” Eddie says.

“You really are the sweetest,” you say with a content sigh.

“Does that mean you’ll come?” he asks, voice hiking up in hopefulness.

“Well, I have to go home to see my niece, but I’m seeing her next week,” you say.

“You’re leaving on Friday, right?” Eddie double checks. “Right after your last exam?”

“I am,” you say. Your eyes scan around your dorm room, half packed up with things you’re taking back with you to New Hampshire next week. “And I’m seeing my sister and niece on Tuesday and Wednesday. But after that? If you really want me to, I’d love to come for Christmas.”

“Oh, thank God,” Eddie lets out in a rush. “Because I miss you so much.”

You grin to yourself and curl up on your side.

“I miss you too,” you tell him quietly.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, and there’s an edge to his voice that sends a shiver up your spine.

“Yeah,” you say, voice going lower.

“Mmm,” Eddie hums and your thighs clench together at the sound. “How much?”

“So much,” you tell him as you roll onto your back. “So much it hurts.”

“Hurts where, baby?” The pitch of his voice lowering makes you bite your lip and slide a hand down your chest. God, you hope this is going where you think it’s going.

“My heart,” you start off. “And…other places.”

Eddie’s groan gives you the last hint of motivation you need to slip your hand down your sweatpants.

“What places, baby?”

The nickname has you slipping your hand into your panties as well.

“Gonna make me say it?” you ask, breath becoming labored. There’s material rustling on the other end of the phone and the thought of Eddie in the same position as you has you arching your back.

“Mhmm,” Eddie hums, his own breaths coming quicker. “Wanna hear you.”

“Fuck,” you moan out softly as you start to slide your fingers through your folds. You’d touched yourself countless times since coming home from Indiana, but never while talking to Eddie.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” Eddie asks. His voice is rough and ragged, and it only makes you wetter.

“Got my hand down my panties,” you tell him, cheeks burning at the admission.

He lets out a moan as your middle finger rubs right over your clit, the combination leading you to moan out as well.

“What’re y-you doing?” you ask once you’ve slightly recovered.

“Dick in my hand,” Eddie stutters out.

“Wish I was there to see,” you tell him, and he chokes on a laugh.

“Fuck, me too, baby,” he says. “What else would you do if you were here?”

The nastiest thoughts flash through your mind and, surprisingly, you don’t feel the need to hide them from Eddie. He makes you feel at ease, even stepping out of your comfort zone like this.

“Shit, I’d lick you from base to tip.” The small noises coming from the back of Eddie’s throat encourage you. “I’m not sure how good of a gag reflex I have but I’d let you test that out on me as much as you’d like. Over and over. And I’d swallow every last drop you gave me. Fuck, bet you have a pretty dick.”

“Not as pretty as your pussy must be, baby,” he answers.

You bite your lip and let out a whimper. The sound of Eddie’s slick hand working over himself comes through the phone and you slip a finger inside of yourself.

“Bet you taste fucking perfect, too,” Eddie adds, and your hips canter off the mattress.

“What would you do if I was there?” you ask. “Taste me?”

“Oh, fuck, yes. Shit, I’d devour you like you were my last meal. How would you want me to touch you, baby? Tell me.”

“Everywhere,” you whine out with a pathetic moan. “I want your hands all over my body. Maybe squeeze at my tits as you go down on me. Would you like that?”

The growl you get in response tells you that he would.

“Hell yes, baby. Shit. Bet you’re so tight. First, so tight around my tongue and fingers. Then my cock. Squeezing me so well. Like a good fucking girl.”

“God, you’re killing me,” you say with a breathy laugh, working your middle finger in and out of your pussy.

“Feeling’s mutual, princess,” Eddie groans out. “Rub your clit for me, baby?”

You don’t need to be told twice. You slip your finger out of your drenched core and run it over your clit, applying the perfect pressure as you rub back and forth.

“I-I am,” you whimper.

The sounds of Eddie’s heavy breaths and fist gliding over his cock keep you company as you work yourself closer to the edge. Sweat is making your sweatshirt stick to your stomach and rub against your sensitive nipples, but you can’t bring yourself to take your other hand off the phone to take it off. Eddie’s sounds are addicting, and you don’t want to miss a second of them.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so close,” Eddie whines.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh,” he says. “Was half hard the moment I heard your voice.”

His words make you moan and rub tighter circles over your throbbing clit.

“Eddie,” you whine.

“Gonna make me cum even faster, gorgeous,” he says.

“Do it,” you sigh out. “Want to cum with you.”

“Close, princess?”

“Uh huh.”

“Come on, baby,” Eddie says. “Fuck, can’t wait to do this in person.”

“Shit, Eddie,” you cry out at his words. “M’gonna cum.”

“Let go, sweetheart,” he moans.

You cry out as your back arches off the bed, orgasm overtaking you. Eddie’s groan and whimper from the other end of the phone lets you know he’s cumming too, and the image has you rubbing your clit even quicker to milk your orgasm out.

Breaths coming out in heavy pants, your body collapses back against the bed. You giggle to yourself when you hear Eddie breathing the same way that you are.

“Still with me?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Eddie says between breaths. “Fuck, that was good.”

“Oh yeah,” you agree. Using the back of your wrist, you wipe some sweat off your forehead as you cuddle back against your pillow. “Now, what was that about doing this in person?”

“Huh?” Eddie asks, breath and voice slowly returning to normal. “Shit, I didn’t mean to-.”

“Eddie!” You laugh as he starts to ramble. “I was going to say I was looking forward to it.”

“Oh.” Relief is evident in his voice. He lets out an awkward chuckle and you can hear fabric rustling from his end. You imagine him tucking himself back in his pants and you lick over your lips. “Well, I mean, we don’t have a guest room. So, if you’re gonna be staying here you’ve only got the one option.”

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and you close your eyes to picture it. His hair is probably all messy over his pillow with sweat making a few pieces stick to his forehead.

“Slumber party, huh?”

“Only if you want, baby,” Eddie says. “I wouldn’t force you to do anything.”

“I know that,” you assure him. “I guess I should tell you something, though.”

“Anything, sweetheart. You know that.”

After what the two of you just did together you should not be feeling nervous with him. But you can’t help it as your thumb comes up to your mouth and you gnash your teeth against the corner of your nail.

“What we just did is the farthest I’ve ever gone,” you tell him. “I’m a virgin, Eddie.”

“Oh, is that all?” Eddie says and you feel your heart relax.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you get out in a rush. “Just can be a weird topic to talk about.”

“That’s true,” Eddie says. “So, it’s good you brought it up, because now I can tell you that I’m a virgin too.”

“Really?” you say before thinking better of it. You squeeze your eyes closed because you can’t imagine how that must’ve sounded. “I-I just mean I’m surprised because you’re like…ridiculously hot. And I have a hard time believing girls wouldn’t throw themselves at you. Especially at your shows.”

Eddie laughs and it’s both genuine and self-deprecating.

“You flatter me, baby,” he says. “But our shows usually consisted of an audience of half a dozen barflies until I met Nancy and the crew.”

“No groupies?” you ask.

“Not a one.”

“Well,” you say with a shrug, even though Eddie can’t see you. “I’d be happy to be a Corroded Coffin groupie.”

“Is that so?” he muses.

“Please, sir?” You bite your lip at the blush clinging to your face as you utter the words.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans and it turns into a chuckle. “You say shit like that we’re going to have to go another round.”

“Isn’t my job as a groupie to tease you?” The innocent tone of your voice isn’t lost on you nor Eddie.

“You’re really good at it already.”

Giggling, you sit up in your bed and hug your knees to your chest.

“Not to change the subject, but I’m going to before I get distracted too,” you say. “If I’m going to be there for Christmas, I’m going to have to get on buying a present for my secret Santa. Think you could give me a few ideas?”

“Sure thing, princess,” Eddie says. “Who’d you get?”

“Max,” you tell him.

“Oh, Red’s pretty easy. She likes comics, especially Wonder Woman. She skateboards. Uh, what else? Big Kate Bush fan.”

“What about clothes?” you ask. “Jewelry?”

“Shit, I wouldn’t be able to help you out with those. She doesn’t really wear jewelry and I couldn’t even tell you what kind of clothes she wears, really. Never paid attention.”

“Hmm, okay,” you hum as you slip your feet further under your blankets. “I’ll keep all that in mind. Now, who’d you get?”

“Robin,” Eddie says with a sigh. “I have no clue what to get her.”

“If you’re still stuck when I get there, we could always go shopping together?”

“I am the worst shopper in the history of the world,” Eddie groans. “I’d love to have you with me. I’ll hold your hand and buy you hot chocolate.”

You duck your head with a bashful laugh.

“Sold.”

Finals week was always hell, but you had to admit, the thought of seeing Eddie soon helped ease the pain a bit. You and Nancy spent most evenings held up in whoever’s room was free of its roommate, pouring over notes, shuffling flash cards, and quizzing each other back and forth. It pays off, the both of you feeling pretty confident once all tests are said and done.

Nancy gives you a hug and tells you she’ll see you in a week before she catches her ride to the airport. Unfortunately, Shelby wasn’t leaving for break until the day after you, so you were forced to share the room until you’re able to get in your car and go.

Once you do though, you realize it wasn’t really anything to look forward to. You’d either be arriving at an empty apartment, or one where your mother was. You’re not sure which is worse. Just as you’re about to pull your car onto the highway and out of Boston though, a store catches your eye, and you make a U-turn to get a closer look.

You park your car and smile to yourself as you see the custom skateboards on display in the windows. Inside the store, the boards are even nicer. The decks are all hand painted, the clerk tells you, and you’re amazed at the talent as you take in all the vibrant and beautiful works. One in particular catches your eye and you know you’ve found the right present.

The apartment is silent when you arrive home. The only noises are from the surrounding tenant’s homes. There’s Christmas music playing somewhere a few doors down and someone on the floor above you has their shower running. The smell of stale air wafts through the rooms and you wonder when the last time your mom cracked a window was.

You drag your suitcase to your small room in the corner of the apartment and flop down on your twin-sized bed. It smells just as stale as the air, so you get up and decide to throw your blankets and some clothes from your closet into the laundry.

It’s well after dark when your mom arrives home, and if you were expecting to be greeted with excitement, you were wrong. Luckily, experience had taught you not to hold your breath on that. A hug hello, some vague questions about school, then she’s off to bed. Not that you mind at all. In fact, you decide to get comfortable in your bed of clean sheets and try to get some sleep yourself. Burying your face in your pillow, you inhale the clean scent of the detergent you used. It’s a nice smell, but it gives you an even better idea. You roll onto your back and smile to yourself as you stare up at the ceiling. Eddie may not be your boyfriend, but you doubt he’d care if you borrowed a t-shirt or sweatshirt to bring back with you when school starts again. The thought of having something you could hold in your dorm bed that belongs to Eddie, his scent all over it, makes you giddy, and you let out a short giggle into the dark room.

The day you get to spend with your niece is by far the best day you have at home in New Hampshire. She’s the sweetest seven-year-old you’ve ever met in your life and the fact that she adores you warms your heart. Chloe is by far your favorite relative, even though that wasn’t a very high bar to begin with. The princess dress you gave her lit up her face in a way that brought tears to your eyes. Her hug was bone-crushing for such a small child, and you took advantage of every second of it. The only reason you don’t cry as you say goodbye to her and your sister is because you know you’re seeing Eddie very soon.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Chloe had asked you as you tossed your bag into your car. You sat down sideways in the driver’s seat and pulled her over to hold her tiny hands in your own.

“I’m going to see a friend for Christmas,” you told her.

“Who?”

“His name is Eddie.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Her face wrinkled up in an adorable and excited seven-year-old fashion. It made you laugh, and you pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Maybe.” He wasn’t technically, but you weren’t about to explain the complexities to her. Plus, after your upcoming trip, he might be.

The escalator leading down to the baggage claim level in the Indianapolis airport moves far too slowly for your liking. Everyone else seems content with the pace, but you’re practically buzzing with nervous energy. The family in front of you can’t move fast enough out of your way as they step off, leaving you irritated as you try to navigate your way around them. You manage to get clear of the crowd without smacking anyone with your backpack and make your way over to where Eddie will be waiting.

“Excuse me, miss,” you hear from behind you. “But I can’t help but notice how devastatingly gorgeous you are.” The smile on your face as you turn around at the familiar voice is so wide it feels like it’s going to fall off your face. “Do you think I could interest you in spending Christmas with me?”

Eddie’s grin matches your own and you fling yourself in his arms. He catches you with a joyful laugh, managing to slip his hands under your backpack so he can lift you up. A squeal leaves your lips as you wrap your legs around his adorably tiny waist, and the two of you squeeze one another so hard you’re surprised you don’t meld into one body.

“I missed you so much,” Eddie mumbles into your hair.

“I missed you, too,” you say. You pull back to look at him, infectious grin still on his face as he holds you. Taking his face between your hands, you press a firm kiss on his lips. He chuckles against your mouth, and you press a few more quick pecks to his lips before you unwrap your legs from his body. He sets you down and you bounce up and down on the balls of your feet.

“How are you even more beautiful than I remember?” Eddie asks as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I guess the same way that you’re even more handsome than I remember,” you answer.

Eddie rests his forehead against yours and gives your lips one more peck. He slips his hand into yours and you lace your fingers together.

“Let's go get your bag,” Eddie says.

Gentlemanly as ever, Eddie carries your bags to his van and loads them in the back. Before he lets you get in though, he takes advantage of the empty parking garage around you and gently presses you up against the passenger door. The devilish smirk he sends you makes your tummy buzz and your toes curl in your boots. He leans in and presses his lips against yours in a searing kiss, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your arms come up to wind around his neck, fingers coming up to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. His tongue licks across your top lip and you gladly open them to him. The van is cold against your back, but Eddie’s warming you up plenty. His hands rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing up against the soft material of your coat. You never knew a gray concrete parking garage could be so romantic.

On the ride to Eddie’s, neither of you shuts up. If someone had told you that you’d meet someone who you would talk to on the phone for hours at a time multiple days a week, but still find things to talk about all the time, you wouldn’t have believed them. But there were never silences, let alone awkward ones, with Eddie. As you got closer to his place you actually had a twenty-minute conversation about the shoes Eddie was wearing.

“Shit, I forgot to ask you,” Eddie says, suddenly seeming a little nervous. “Nancy and Steve want to have lunch with us tomorrow afternoon. That okay with you?”

“Of course,” you tell him. He doesn’t seem relaxed by your answer, so you reach over and put your hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a nod, but you’re not convinced.

“What, are you nervous to go on a double date?” you ask with a chuckle.

He smiles over at you and reaches up to grab the hand you placed on him. He gives it a squeeze before putting it back on the wheel.

“Never nervous to spend time with you, baby. Oh, I should tell you,” Eddie says as you drive past the sign welcoming you to Hawkins. “Wayne took the night off from work tonight. He wants to have dinner with you, it being your first day here and all.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” you say, smiling over at him.

“It’ll probably be pizza, nothing fancy,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Pizza is better than fancy every time, Eddie. Duh,” you say. “I’m kind of nervous to meet your uncle though, to be honest.”

Eddie lets out a laugh and shakes his head.

“Nervous to meet Wayne? Oh sweetheart, trust me, nothing to be nervous about. He likes to act like a hardass with me, but he’s a teddy bear deep down.”

“Okay,” you say, and take a deep breath.

Eddie’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“It does mean though…” he trails off and you look at him in concern.

“What? What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I mean, with Wayne there I don’t really think we should, ya know-.”

You cut him off with a laugh and shake your head.

“Eddie, baby,” you say, and you notice him flush at the nickname. “I’m going to be here for a while. We have plenty of time for all that fun stuff. A lot of it.”

Eddie groans and gently bangs his head against his headrest.

“Fuck, you’re killing me,” he says through a chuckle.

“Oh yeah?” Your voice hikes up at the end and Eddie clocks the way you adjust your crossed legs, thighs squeezing closer together.

“Been half hard since I saw you,” he admits, cheeks turning even darker.

“I mean, I could help you with that,” you say, cheeks flaming red yourself.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” You blush even redder at how quickly you replied. “You’ll need to tell me what to do, though. Like, h-how you like it. I’ve never done this before.”

“Shit, baby,” Eddie says, and you squeeze your legs together even tighter at the endearment. “I doubt you could do anything I wouldn’t like. But yeah, I’ll talk you through it.”

Eddie pulls the van up to a red light and you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over closer to him. Your hand goes to reach for his zipper when the van is jerked from behind. Eddie immediately reaches out to grab you since you’re not wearing your seatbelt, and he curses under his breath as the vehicle gently rocks back and forth from the hit.

“Someone hit the van?” You’re almost positive that’s what happened, but your head was a bit dazed from thoughts of what you were about to do.

“Yeah,” Eddie says as he puts the van in park. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say as you get back in your seat. “Are you?”

“Fine. Just pissed.” Eddie sighs before he opens the driver’s door. “I’ll be right back. You stay nice and warm in here, princess.”

Eddie slams the door behind him and after a few moments you hear him yell, “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You open the passenger side door and hop out, closing it behind you and heading to the back of the van to see what was wrong. You’re expecting horrible damage, injured people, or Eddie getting ready to kick someone’s ass. But what you see makes you laugh, and you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the sound.

The curly-haired boy you met last month, Dustin, is getting out of the car behind the van, a grimace on his face, looking paler than you remember. An older man gets out of the passenger side with a clipboard and your eyes trail to the top of the car where there’s a red sign that says, “Student Driver.”

“Shit, Eddie,” Dustin says. “I’m so sorry. I got excited when I saw your van and then I forgot which pedal was which and I just…oh!”

Dustin sees you and grins. You chuckle and send him a small wave, but Eddie is still glaring at him.

“Are you okay?” the driving instructor asks.

“Fine,” Eddie says, eyes not leaving Dustin. The boy shrinks under his gaze.

“Are you okay, Dustin?” you ask.

“I’m fine.”

“For now,” Eddie growls out.

You inspect the back of the van, but you don’t see a single scratch. Dustin’s lucky. Whoever pays his bills is lucky too because you doubt the driving school would have taken any damage lightly.

“Should we call the police?” the instructor asks but Eddie waves him off.

“It’s fine,” Eddie says. He puts his hands on his hips and sighs. You walk over to him and put your hand on his back, rubbing gently, and it seems to calm him.

“I’m so sorry,” Dustin says but Eddie shakes his head at the boy.

“He’ll forgive you,” you assure Dustin. “He’s just a little worked up.”

How you manage not to smirk at your double entendre, you don’t know. Eddie huffs out a chuckle though and nods his head.

“Everyone’s okay,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Plus, I know you’ll make it up to me, Henderson.”

“How?” Dustin asks.

“That’s up to you,” Eddie calls to him as he turns back towards the van, slinging his arm over your shoulders. You giggle and bury your head in Eddie’s neck as he walks you back to your door.

“Bye, Dustin!” you shout as Eddie opens the passenger door for you.

The echo of Dustin’s responding goodbye is cut off when Eddie shuts the door. He climbs in the driver’s side and lets out a mixture of a groan and a sigh as he puts the car in drive.

“I love him,” you tell Eddie as he continues down the road.

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Eddie says, but there’s a fond smile on his face.

There’s a sign that comes into view that announces Forest Hills trailer park is half a mile up the road. Despite Eddie’s reassurance earlier, you start to feel the knot of anxiety in your stomach again. The only family in Eddie’s life is Wayne, so what would happen if he didn’t like you? A large hand comes over to cover yours and you realize you have been fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. Eddie’s thumb rubs over your hand and you shoot him a grateful smile.

Eddie pulls the van into the trailer park, and you look around, taking in his neighborhood.

“It’s a trailer park,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Not much to look at.”

“This is where you live. What you see every day,” you say. “I’m interested.”

He smiles to himself as you crane your neck to take in everything. Eddie isn’t sure he’s ever had someone interested in his life like this before. Certainly there wasn’t anyone who was ever nervous about meeting his uncle. The thought of someone being nervous to meet Wayne was truly hilarious to him.

The van parks in front of the trailer and Eddie’s stomach drops as he sees you frown at the small dwelling. You’d known all along he lives in a trailer, but is it even worse than you imagined? Is it too small? Too dirty? Eddie licks over his lips and runs his hands over the steering wheel just to do something with his nervous energy.

“You don’t have any Christmas lights up,” you say, turning to face him.

Eddie’s shoulders sag in relief and a smile comes to his face.

“I guess we don’t,” he says. “I don’t think we own any, actually.”

He lets out a laugh at your affronted face and leans over to press a kiss to your cheek.

“You’re so cute,” he says.

“Don’t try to sweet talk your way out of decorations, mister.” But you can’t help but smile at his actions.

“How about we go to the store tomorrow? You can pick out what you think looks best.”

“Wait. Are you telling me you don’t have decorations inside either?”

“We do not.”

“What about a tree?”

Eddie grimaces and your jaw drops open.

“Eddie! No tree?”

“Okay, I was planning on getting one,” he says, holding his hands up in defense. “Just haven’t yet. I usually pick up whatever’s left on the lot a few days before Christmas.”

“So, a Charlie Brown Christmas tree?” you ask.

“Pretty much,” he says. “Now come on. Let’s get inside where I can show you my room.”

You laugh as Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at you. He throws you a wink before he hops out and opens the back door to get your bags. Following him over to the steps, you rub your hands up and down your arms, partially out of coldness and partially out of nerves. Since his hands are full, you reach around and turn the doorknob for him, and he knocks the door all the way open with his hip. Eddie sets your bags down just inside the door and takes your hand in his as you step inside. He closes the door behind you as you look around the living room, taking in the mugs and hats that make up the decor.

“My favorite mug is the Garfield one,” you tell Eddie.

“Got that when I was six,” he says. He lets go of your hand to wrap both of his arms around you from behind. He rests his chin on your shoulder and you lean back in his embrace.

“I bet you were an adorable six-year-old,” you say.

“I looked like little orphan Annie with the curls and all.”

You laugh but it dies in your throat as you hear footsteps coming down the hallway.

“Relax,” Eddie whispers in your ear, giving your waist a squeeze before stepping out from behind you.

A weathered but friendly looking man steps into the living room and the smile he gives you reminds you of Eddie’s. His blue and black flannel makes you wonder if he and Eddie ever steal each other's clothes.

“Well, you must be the young lady I’ve heard so much about.”

Both you and Eddie blush at his words.

“I guess that’s me,” you say with a shrug. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Oh, please doll, no need to be so formal. Wayne is fine. It’s great to meet you too, though.” He steps forward and offers you his hand, which you shake gladly. Eddie wraps an arm around your waist and Wayne turns his gaze on his nephew.

“What took you so long, boy?”

“Had a little fender bender,” Eddie admits with a sigh. Wayne reaches over and smacks Eddie upside the head, making you cough out a laugh. “Ow, what the hell?”

“Her first day here and you’re already getting in a car accident?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Eddie protests.

Wayne huffs and crosses his arms across his chest.

“My apologies then.” He turns to you and leans in conspiratorially. “Boy had to take his driving test three times.”

“Okay, thank you Wayne,” Eddie says, stomping down the hallway, dragging a giggling you behind him. He tugs you into a bedroom at the end of the hall and it’s instantly recognizable as his room.

You let his hand drop from yours as you walk around, taking in the small space.

“Believe it or not, I cleaned up,” Eddie says, scratching the back of his head.

“I believe you,” you say, shooting him a playful smirk that makes him roll his eyes. You stroll over to the Corroded Coffin banner hanging on the wall and Eddie sidles up beside you.

“I want to see your band play,” you say.

“We haven’t played together since Jeff went off to college.” Eddie tugs you against his side and presses a kiss into your hair. You lay your head on his shoulder with a smile, giddy that he keeps his hands on your every chance he gets.

“Is he home for Christmas?” you ask.

He pulls back and looks at you, a grin sliding on his face.

“He is. You’re a genius.” He presses another kiss to your head and your cheeks heat up at this one. “Maybe the guys will want a little reunion.”

“Will you play this?” you ask, nodding to the guitar hanging adjacent to where you’re standing.

“Sure will. She’s my sweetheart.” Your eyebrows pull together in a frown and Eddie coos at you. “Aw, baby. She’s my first sweetheart. You’re my number one sweetheart.”

When you keep frowning Eddie takes his thumb and runs it over the lines on your face.

“What’s the difference?” you ask.

“Well, I loved her first and I -.” His face turns beet red, and you can’t help the smile that lights up your face.

“And you what, Eddie?” you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“And I, uh.” Eddie coughs, avoiding your eyes. “I have you as my sweetheart now. I mean, um.”

As adorable as his scrambling is, you can’t take how uncomfortable he looks so you raise yourself up on your toes and press a kiss to his lips. Eddie sighs in relief against your lips and rests his hands on your hips.

“You’re cute when you ramble,” you mumble against his mouth.

“M’glad,” he mumbles back. “You’re cute all the time.”

The doorbell rings and Eddie rests his forehead against yours.

“That’ll be the pizza,” he says. “On the one hand, I’m hungry. On the other hand, I want our mouths to be busy with different things.”

A flush comes up your body as you pull away from him.

“Eat first, lots of kissing later,” you tell him.

Dinner with Wayne and Eddie is nice, and you’re surprised at how funny Wayne is. He tells stories from his younger days, even making Eddie laugh as well, though he’s probably heard these stories so many times he could tell them himself.

“So,” Wayne says as he wipes his hands off on a napkin. “Eddie tells me you go to college with the Wheeler girl?”

“I do,” you affirm. “Emerson College. I love it, but Boston is very cold right now.”

“I don’t know how much better it is here,” Eddie says, leaning to look out the window, checking for any signs of snow.

“What’re you studying?” Wayne asks.

“Psychology.”

“So, is my nephew your first patient?”

You break out into a fit of giggles and Eddie’s dropped jaw and affronted face makes you laugh even harder. Wayne lets out his own chuckle and shrugs his shoulders.

“I’ve never gotten to embarrass Eddie in front of a girl before. I’m taking full advantage of this,” Wayne says.

“Aww, Eddie,” you coo, while still laughing, and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m going across the street to have dinner with Max,” Eddie says, even as he reaches for another slice of pizza.

“Max lives here?” you ask with a smile.

“Sure does. She’s a good kid,” Wayne says. “Bit of a mouth on her, but she’s a good kid.”

“I’ll have to say hi when you’re at work one day.” You pout up at Eddie, jutting your lower lip out.

“I got a few days off though,” Eddie says, slipping an arm around you as he shoves the pizza into his mouth. “I’ll only be coming back smelling like oil and gasoline a few days.”

“Y’all have any plans while you’re here?” Wayne asks.

“Well, I promised we’d get some decorations to make this place look more festive,” Eddie says. “Getting a tree, of course. Anything else you want to do while you’re here?”

“Nothing specific,” you say with a shrug. “Told Nancy I’d see her, of course.”

“Indiana sure ain’t known for being a tourist destination,” Wayne says.

“But I’m here,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. You know he’s joking, but he’s also right.

“Well, I wouldn’t spend Christmas with just anyone,” you say.

“And we’re glad to have you,” Wayne says.

“Very,” Eddie adds, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Out of all the films that made up Eddie and Wayne’s small collection, not one was a Christmas movie. Luckily, Frosty the Snowman is on television, followed by How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Wayne reclines in his chair, and you curl up next to Eddie on the couch to watch the animated programs. Eddie’s arm is wrapped snugly around you the whole time, and he pays more attention to the fact that he’s holding you than he does to the storylines.

As you’re getting ready for bed in the small bathroom, your tummy erupts in an excited sort of nerves at the fact that you’re sharing a bed with Eddie. A rather small bed, too. Part of you is glad it's winter and you’re wearing warm plaid pajama pants and an oversized Boston Bruins t-shirt, because you know you would’ve put pressure on yourself to wear more suggestive items to bed if it were warmer.

You open the bathroom door, and your socked feet pad down the hall to Eddie’s room, where he’s already lounging, one arm up over his head and the other resting on his stomach. His own plaid pajamas bottoms - black, instead of the pink ones on your bottom half - sitting low on his hips and his gray faded Dio shirt making him look hotter than he had any right to be. He smiles when you walk in and lifts his hips up so he can pull down the blankets for the both of you. There’s a pleasant buzzing sensation in your limbs as you slip into the bed next to him. He automatically wraps his arms around you, and you cuddle into his chest.

“You’re warm,” you mumble against his shirt.

“You’re hot,” he says, and you break into a giggle, burying your face in his neck.

You tilt your head up and press a kiss to the underside of Eddie’s chin.

“What time are we meeting Steve and Nancy tomorrow?” you ask.

Eddie gets that nervous look about him like he did in the van when he originally told you about the plans.

“They’re going to come here, actually,” he says, running his hand up and down your back. “Bringing food from a diner down the road from Steve that he loves, so prepare for him to bring half the menu.”

“Fine with me.” You run your nose up to behind Eddie’s ear and you feel him shiver under your touch. The echoes from the television drift down the hall and you’re pretty sure it’s the only thing keeping the two of you from jumping one another.

Eddie reaches behind him to flip the light off and curls back into you, resting his forehead against yours.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi, you.”

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” you say. “No one I’d rather spend Christmas with.”

“No?” he asks. “Not even your niece?”

“Eh, that means I’d have to spend it with my sister too, though, so no.”

He chuckles and presses his lips against yours.

“No one I’d rather spend it with either,” he says. “But there is something I want to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Well,” he says, and even in the darkness you can tell that his face is getting pink. “I realized that even though we’ve been pretty inseparable since we met, I’ve never even asked you on a date.”

“Eddie,” you giggle his name against his lips. “That is so sweet. But we’ve had phone sex, I came to stay with you for Christmas, and I’m pretty sure we’re losing our virginities to each other real damn soon, so I think we’re a little past that.”

“Okay, fair,” Eddie agrees with a breathy laugh. “What about you being my girlfriend then? Can I ask you about that?”

“You can.” You rub your hands over his chest. “But I’m pretty sure you know what the answer will be.”

“I hope so.” He pecks your lips again. “But I want to ask anyway.”

“Go ahead then.”

“Be my girlfriend? Like, officially?”

“Depends,” you say with a smile. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

He purses his lips and lets out a hum before responding.

“Can I think about it?”

“Fine,” you say with a shrug. You take your hands off him and go to take the covers off of your body. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll just go sleep at Nancy’s until you decide.”

He laughs and wraps his arms around your middle as you go to get up.

“No!” he whines and pulls your body back down against his. Back pressed against his chest, he squeezes you in his arms and presses loud smacking kisses against the back of your neck. “I’ve been yours since I first saw you.”

The grin his words bring to your face makes your cheek muscles ache.

“I could say the same,” you tell him.

“Shit, how’d I get so lucky?” he whispers into your hair.

“By being so cute, I guess.”

He hums a chuckle and tucks the blankets up around the two of you.

“We should probably try to sleep,” he says.

“Probably. But I don’t want to.”

“Me neither.”

The sun is almost up by the time you finally fall asleep in his arms. You’re used to hearing his voice right before you sleep from your regular phone calls, but it’s even better having his voice up close and personal right in your ear. Eddie falls asleep soon after you but still wakes up first.

As consciousness comes drifting back to him, he’s aware there’s something warm in his arms. His brow furrows before the apple scent of your shampoo jogs his memory, and a smile comes to his face as he huddles closer to your warmth. His eyes break open and the smile grows as he sees your sleeping face on the pillow next to his. Your face is so peaceful and calm, and it makes his heart stutter at how beautiful you look. He reaches up and softly strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, his eyes taking in every little detail of your face. There were times that Eddie thought he’d never get a girl to even say yes to going on a date with him, yet here he is, not even a month after meeting you, lying next to the girl he’s positive he’s falling in love with. And he finds it even crazier that you seem to feel the same way about him.

You start to move in his arms and Eddie stays still so he doesn’t disturb you. His hand drops down to your hip as you turn on your side and snuggle closer to him. He can’t help but press a gentle kiss on your forehead, lips pulled up in a grin against your skin. A hum leaves your throat and Eddie looks down at you at the noise. You blink your eyes open, lashes fluttering as your eyes adjust from sleep.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

At the sound of Eddie’s voice your head tips up and you meet his gaze. A smile lights up your face and Eddie presses another kiss to your forehead.

“Morning, handsome,” you reply.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

“Good,” you say with a dreamy sigh. You nuzzle your head into Eddie’s neck, and he wraps you up in his arms. He knows he should get up and get dressed, but he can’t bring himself to get up. It’s partially because he’s dreading the conversation he knows he needs to have with you. If he wants to have sex with you - and Lord knows he does - that means he’s going to have to take his shirt off. You’re the first person Eddie has met whom he’s positive won’t judge him on how gruesome they look. But that doesn’t mean you won’t ask how he got them.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask him and start peppering kisses up his neck.

“Best I ever have, I think,” he says, eyes fluttering closed. A moan slips out his lips and the vibration from the sound travels down his throat and into your lips. “You keep doing that and we’re never getting out of this bed.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” you speak against his skin.

Eddie agrees, but the knot in his stomach is from nerves as opposed to hormones - though there was definitely some of that too. The thought of you seeing his scars without any warning beforehand is the only thing keeping him from stripping the both of you naked in record time.

“Baby,” Eddie says, pulling away from your lips. “We should get up and get ready.”

A whine slips out as you bury your face in Eddie’s chest.

“Don’t wanna,” you say.

“Me neither,” Eddie says as he pushes the blankets off the two of you. “But I don’t want Steve coming in here and seeing you in your sexy pajamas.”

You laugh as you look down at your cozy attire, but your cheeks heat up at his words, nonetheless. Eddie slides out of the bed and tugs the blankets all the way off you. He smirks as his cold hands grab at your ankles and pull you down towards the foot of the bed. A squeal leaves your lips as you squirm, trying to escape his freezing fingers.

“Up, baby, up!”

“I’ll get up if you kiss me,” you offer.

“Ugh, if I have to.” He walks over to your side of the bed and leans down, pressing his lips quickly against yours. “Deals a deal, princess.”

With a huff, you climb out of the warm bed and search through your suitcase for some clothes for the day. Once both you and Eddie get dressed, he leads you into the living room and pulls you into his lap on the couch.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” he says, running one hand up and down your jean clad thigh.

“What’s up?” you ask as you card one of your hands through his hair.

He lets out a sigh and licks over his lips, avoiding your eyes. You frown and press a kiss to the top of his head.

“You can tell me anything, sweetheart,” you tell him.

There are tears in his eyes as he looks up at you, but he gives you a grateful smile.

“Do, um, do you remember the, uh, story Nancy and I told you? About what happened back in March?” He massages his fingers over your thigh, eyes trailing the patterns he’s making.

“Of course.”

“Well, uh, it was all the truth. But there’s even more to it.”

You tilt his chin up so he’s looking you in the eyes.

“Eddie, you can tell me.”

“It’s kind of hard to believe,” he says, hand patting your leg nervously.

“You’ve not lied to me yet,” you say with a shrug.

With a deep breath, Eddie begins to tell you a story that seems like it was ripped from one of the fantasy novels you love, only much more sinister. A tear escapes his eye and makes its way down his cheek as he recalls his near-death experience with the otherworldly creatures.

“And there were these bats—we called them ‘demobats,’ because of the demogorgon,” he explains, anxiously tapping his fingers along your leg. “I tried to fight them off, tried to buy more time, but they…they got me. Pinned me to the ground and tore out chunks of my skin. Hurt like fuckin’ hell.” He gnaws on his lower lip. “I would’ve been dead if Harrington and Henderson didn’t drag me outta there. Sometimes…sometimes, I wonder if I would’ve been better off dead.”

The last line is what breaks your heart most of all. Tears were already raining down your face, but at this last admission, you throw your arms around Eddie’s neck and squeeze him so tightly that it has to be uncomfortable for him.

“No,” you gasp against his neck. “No, don’t ever say that.”

You feel the emotion get the better of him as his body starts to shake, his own breath hitching as he begins crying in earnest. He clings to you and the pads of his fingers dig into your back as he buries his face in your neck. The two of you cry together, you try to soothe Eddie by rubbing his back and pressing kisses into his hair while doing so.

“You’re safe now, Eddie,” you whisper to him once your own crying has subsided for the most part. “I’ve got you.”

He nods in recognition of your words, but his tears don’t cease. You just keep holding him, willing to never move from his lap again if it meant you could give him even an ounce of comfort. After a few long minutes, you feel his body relax under your touch. He pulls his head away from your neck and you pull back as well so you can see his face. It’s red and splotchy, his eyes are swollen, and traces of snot are on the end of his nose. He’s still the most beautiful man you’ve seen in your life. Moving slowly, not wanting to scare him or to give him time to pull away if he wants, you lean in and gently press your lips to his. Your hands come to cup his face as you pull away, looking at him through your own teary eyes.

“Eddie, wow.” You shake your head, not even sure where to begin. “Sweetheart,” you say, tilting his head to make sure he’s looking you in the eyes as you say this. “You’re a hero.”

He immediately shakes his head, and it hurts your heart.

“You are,” you insist. “You didn’t have to go back in like you did. It seems you were specifically told not to. But you did because you wanted to help. To give them the best chance. Even if it meant something terrible at your own expense.”

Eddie looks up at you under his thick lashes, big brown eyes even more childlike while shiny from tears.

“Sounds like a hero to me, babe,” you tell him.

He lets out a sigh and rubs the palm of his hand against his eye.

“I didn’t think I’d cry like that,” Eddie admits. “But I’ve also never told the story before, either.”

“What?” You move some hair off his face, stuck there because of the tears. “Not even Wayne.”

Eddie shakes his head.

“I couldn’t do that to him. He was worried enough as it was, I wasn’t about to add to it. He knows plenty, just not every gory detail. But you deserved to know the truth. Because I’m hoping you’ll be around for a while.” It’s the first time you’ve heard him sound shy and unsure of himself. It makes sense his confidence would be a little rattled after telling you that nightmare-come-true.

“I’ll be around as long as you’ll have me,” you assure him. “And Eddie? It really means a lot to me that you’ve trusted me with this. I know it wasn’t easy. And I need you to know I appreciate it.”

He gives you a small smile and you take it as a small victory.

“There’s another reason I wanted to tell you, too,” he says. He’s avoiding your eyes again and it makes the knot in your stomach start tightening again.

“What, baby?” you bring your hand to cup his cheek and press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Well, the, uh, attack. It left some…some fucking nasty scars.”

The way his face blushes in embarrassment makes you want to strangle any creature, native to this dimension or not, who ever caused Eddie a bit of harm.

“So, you wanted to tell me before I see you without your shirt on,” you guess.

He nods his head, cheeks still red.

“Eddie, look at me.” When he does, you continue. “It wouldn’t matter to me if you had scars on every square inch of skin on your body. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and something as trivial as scars could never change that no matter how hard they tried. I may not have seen your body under your clothes yet, but what I have seen?” You lean in to whisper in his ear. “I love.”

Eddie looks up at you questioningly and you move yourself so you’re straddling his lap. Your hands wind behind his head and you interlock your fingers against the back of his neck.

“Your smile was what I noticed first. It’s so genuine and bright, I almost couldn’t believe it was directed at me when we first met. Then, of course, your amazing hair. It’s far nicer than mine and I’m equal parts jealous and turned on by it. And you know what else drives me crazy? This tiny waist.” You dig your fingers into his sides and Eddie chuckles when it tickles him. “It’s so hot. Really. And I’m not sure if you noticed, but I couldn’t stop staring at your bat tattoos all throughout thanksgiving dinner. It’s the sexiest tattoo I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie’s face is still blushing, but by the smile that’s on his face, you’re optimistic that it’s now for a different reason.

“So, I know for a fact that I’m going to love all the parts of you I haven’t seen bare yet. There’s no scar that’s going to keep me away from you. There’s no wound that’s going to make me not want to have your body pressed up against mine. It’s just not possible.”

Tears begin to well in Eddie’s eyes now, but there’s a light in them that wasn’t there when he was telling his story. His face looks hopeful, but the fact that he thought any of this would change the way you feel about him is absolute ludacris.

“This why Steve and Nancy are coming over?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Eddie admits. “They knew about all the insane shit in this town way before I did. Figured they could answer any questions I couldn’t. And maybe provide proof if you didn’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” you tell him truthfully. “And I also want you to know that you don’t have to show me your scars until you’re ready. I know we talked about having sex but -.”

“No, no, I want to,” Eddie cuts you off. His wide eager eyes make you laugh and lean forward to give him a soft kiss.

“So do I.”

The sound of a car pulling up outside has you and Eddie both looking towards the front door. Wayne had left bright and early this morning, Eddie had told you, meeting up with some old friends who were back in town for the holidays. It made the trailer the perfect place to talk about interdimensional incidents over lunch without prying ears.

There’s a soft set of footsteps that approach the front door, followed by a heavier gate. You slip off your boyfriend’s lap as there’s a gentle knock on the door. A knock you’ve heard on your own dorm door a hundred times before.

“They better be up,” you hear Steve say.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he pushes off the couch. He opens the front door and puts on a fake show of yawning and stretching his muscles out.

“Was I loud?” Steve asks Nancy, to which she responds by rolling her eyes. She steps past the two boys to come inside and give you a hug.

“How was the flight?” she asks.

“Not bad. What about yours?”

“Crying baby, but other than that, can’t complain.”

Eddie helps Steve set all of the food he brought down on the kitchen counter.

“Hey!” Steve calls out to you as he steps around the counter to pull you into a hug. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” you say, squeezing him around his middle.

“I take it from the red eyes, Munson, that the conversation’s already started?” Steve asks.

“My part’s done,” Eddie says with a shrug as he struggles to open a takeout box. He manages to get the lid off and takes a sniff at the food inside. “What is this?”

“Some cornbread thing they said I have to try, I don’t know,” Steve answers.

“Are you…okay?” Nancy asks, clearly not knowing how to ask how you’re feeling about the whole Upside Down thing.

“It’s a bit much,” you admit with a sigh. “A lot to wrap my head around. I mean, I totally believe it, it’s just…”

“A lot to take in?” Steve offers, to which you nod. “I know,” he says. “I walked in on it firsthand. Had a gun pointed to my face, almost wet myself, then came back with a bat full of nails and joined the fight.”

“Who the hell held a gun to your face?” you ask, brow furrowing and Eddie laughs from where he’s going through the food.

Steve shoots a pointed look at his girlfriend, who shrugs and gives you a grimace.

“You almost shot your boyfriend?!” you yell.

“He wasn’t my boyfr- oh. Wait. Yeah, he was my boyfriend then. I guess I did do that. But in my defense, I was trying to make him leave so he didn't get caught up in the whole mess. Clearly, it didn’t work.”

“He takes any excuse to tell a story about his precious bat with the nails, I swear,” Eddie says, coming in from the kitchen with half a turkey sandwich. He holds it up to your lips to offer you a bite, which you take.

“And El really has powers?” you ask.

“We should sit down and eat,” Nancy says, gesturing to the food. “This could take a while.”

Nancy and Steve are able to answer all of your questions so well that even if you had thought this was all some sort of joke, you wouldn’t have any more with all the details they’re giving you. It would take your mind a while to accept this all as a reality, but you know you’re the lucky one because they’ve been through this hell while you’re just trying to imagine it.

“Holy shit,” you say when they’re done. “No wonder you’re all bonded so much. You guys can only talk about this with each other.”

“Yep,” Eddie says. “Also part of why I could never tell you over the phone. But I mean, this is kind of a more in person conversation anyway.”

“Wait, they bug your phone?” you ask.

“They used to,” Nancy says. “Not sure if they still do.”

“I hope not.” Your face blooms red, imagining some government people listening in on your phone sex session with Eddie. Steve catches onto the reason for the color on your face.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “If they are still bugging our phones, nothing you guys said could be any worse than what they’ve already heard from me and Nance.”

Eddie smirks while you turn redder and Nancy hits Steve on the arm.

The couple stay with you and Eddie for a few hours. The conversation moves to lighter topics and after hours of laughter and banter later, it’s almost as if the four of you have forgotten the dark note this visit started out on.

After they leave, with Nancy promising you a shopping trip when Eddie goes back to work in a few days, you feel mentally exhausted. It’s obvious Eddie does as well, so you suggest a good old fashioned snowball fight before it gets too dark out. Eddie accepts the challenge and the two of you dodge each other around the sides of the trailer for over an hour. Slinging scooped and formed bits of snow, cheering when you successfully hit one another, or cursing too loud when you missed. Soon, your bodies feel as tired as your minds, and you head back inside the trailer.

Eddie insists you go through the small movie collection and pick out whatever you want while he heats up some leftovers from lunch and makes two mugs of steaming hot cocoa. You pop in the Carrie VHS and snuggle up with Eddie on the couch. There’s a blanket on the other end of the couch and you reach over for it so you can drape it over you both. As Carrie attends her prom on screen, oblivious to the copious amounts of pig’s blood she’s about to be wearing, Eddie taps on your shoulder and points out the window. Snow is coming down in the evening sky and the sight of it makes you smile. Was there a better way to spend the night? Curled up against your boyfriend’s side with delicious food and hot cocoa, watching a horror movie while there’s snow falling outside.

After Carrie’s hand pops out of the ground at the end, not scaring either of you - even though it definitely did the both of you the first time you saw it - you stretch your legs and roll out your ankles.

“Tired?” Eddie asks.

“Only a little,” you say.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you hum at the feeling of his lips on you.

“Wanna go to bed?” There’s another question in there, but the way his voice deepens as he asks it makes your tummy flip.

“Sure,” you tell him. The blanket falls to the couch as you stand up. Offering a hand to Eddie, you help him up, but he doesn’t let go of your hand all the way to the bedroom. Though you’re the only ones home and will be until sometime the next morning, he still shuts the door behind the two of you.

You turn to face Eddie and see him fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Walking over to him, you take each of his hands in your own. He squeezes them and you lean up to peck his lips.

“We don’t have to,” you say quietly.

His smile is aiming for a smirk but looks gleeful instead.

“I want to as long as you do.”

“Of course,” you tell him. He takes a deep breath, and you grab the bottom of his shirt in your hands. “Can I?”

Eddie nods, anxiety clear in his eyes as you’re about to see his scarred chest and abdomen. You raise the fabric up slowly, giving him the opportunity to stop you at any point if he wants to. But he doesn’t, he just lifts his arms to help you get it over his head.

When he’s there bare chested before you, your mind holds a few thoughts. First is how absolutely breathtaking he looks. You weren’t lying before; you really do love his adorable tiny waist. There’s something so sexy about it. The second thought is that the scars looked like they were incredibly painful when he was first inflicted with them. It makes you want to take down all the mythical beings that ever thought of laying a hand on your boyfriend. The third thought is of how heartbroken you are that Eddie had to go through all of this and still doesn’t see himself as a hero. His battle scars are right there, pink and white jagged lines that show off his bravery and strength. How Eddie sees anything other than that is beyond you.

“Eddie, you’re so beautiful,” you say, eyes glued to his chest. He’s watching your face carefully, but you can’t tell because your eyes are tracing the patterns the injured skin created. “Can I…can I touch them? Do they hurt?”

“They don’t hurt anymore,” he assures you. “And yeah, you can touch them if you want.”

You waste no time and start to lightly run your fingers over the healed wounds, mapping out Eddie’s chest. It’s obvious where the demobats took the largest bites of his body, and you ghost your fingertips over those areas as well.

“I don’t know why you were afraid to tell me about these,” you say, eyes never straying from the puckered flesh of his body. “They’re beautiful. Every single bit.”

His chest flushes pink at your words and you’re assuming his face does the same. Your hands keep going further down until they rest at his waistband. His belt buckle makes you smile as you try to figure out how to undo the handcuffs.

“This okay?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you open one of the cuffs.

“S’perfect, baby,” he whines. Already so needy for you. The thought sends a buzz through your body before finally settling between your legs.

You get the belt buckle undone and he helps you push his pants down past his hips. He steps out of them, kicking them behind him somewhere. Eddie’s fingers ghost over the hem of your t-shirt. He searches your face for approval, and when you nod at him, he slides your shirt up and over your head. You’d worn your nicest bra today because you figured Eddie would be seeing it. It’s black lace, the only one you have matching panties of, which you also wore today. The way Eddie’s eyes trail your torso makes you want to cover yourself. Your arms even flinch to do so, but then you remember how vulnerable Eddie is being by letting you see his scars, and you leave your arms where they are.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in the air between you. The flush on your cheeks spreads down to your chest and it makes Eddie grin like a kid in a candy store. He leans in to whisper in your ear. “Now, whenever I make you blush, I’ll know just how far down it’s going.”

The color on your skin only darkens at his words, and you also feel the effect they have down in your core. As Eddie reaches for the button of your jeans, you reach up and cup his face in your hands. He leans in and kisses you softly as he pops the button open and starts to push the material down. You wiggle your hips to help, but that causes him to groan against your lips. You giggle as you pull back.

“I was just trying to help,” you say.

“And it was sexy,” he says. “Oh, and fuck, so are those.” He looks like he’s in pain as he stares at your black lace panties. You step out of your jeans and move backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Eddie follows eagerly, his mouth chasing yours. Lips connected in a tender kiss, Eddie gently lowers you to the bed. You use your elbows to crawl backwards up towards the pillows while never breaking the kiss. Eddie crawls up along your body, hand softly grazing your skin as he goes. You lay back against the pillow and Eddie rests an elbow on either side of your head. He leans in, tilting his head to kiss you at a new angle as he lowers his body gently down on yours. When you feel his clothed erection through his boxers it makes you shiver, causing Eddie to chuckle against your lips.

“What, baby?” he says softly.

“Feels good.” You take his head in your hands to press your mouths together again. “You should take those off.”

He raises a teasing eyebrow at you.

“Want me to be the first one naked, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum with a soft giggle.

“As you wish.”

Eddie reaches down and pushes his boxers down, leaving you to gasp and bite your lip as he kicks them off his legs.

“Well, shit, Eddie,” you say. “It’s official. Every part of you is fucking perfect.”

Eddie ducks his head, cheeks red at your comment, and presses kisses against your shoulder. He trails his lips up your neck, one hand bracing him up, and the other running over the smooth skin of your hip. Two fingers slip under the band of your panties on your hip, then he lets the material snap back against your skin with a smack. You let out a whimper and Eddie keeps up his ministrations on your neck, working his way up to your jaw.

“Wanna touch you, Eddie,” you whine.

He hums a laugh against your skin.

“I should warn you, baby,” he says against your jaw. “You touching me is going to throw me over the edge.”

“That’s fine,” you purr in his ear. “Gives me plenty of time to work you up again.”

“Fuck.” Eddie drops his forehead to your shoulder. He knows he isn’t going to last long, and you haven’t even touched him yet.

The feeling of his precum dripping onto your stomach makes you even wetter as your legs brush up against one another underneath Eddie.

“So, can I?” you ask shyly. “Can I touch you?”

“‘Course you can, sweetheart.” His voice is gravelly and stuttering. It’s almost making you dizzy, this effect you’re having on him. It’s a different sort of high you want to chase again and again.

“You’re going to have to tell me what to do, baby. How you like,” you say.

Again, Eddie huffs a laugh against your neck.

“Princess, I don’t even know if we’ll get that far. Just… spit on your hand, yeah? Good, like that.”

You do as you’re instructed and slowly start to reach for his dick. It’s not that you don’t want to touch it - because you really, really do - but your inexperience is making you a little anxious, even though you know Eddie has the same inexperience. But he knows his body and you’ve never even seen a penis in real life until this moment. You know basic biology and anatomy but being in this situation is a whole lot different than doing a homework assignment on the male reproductive system.

“Baby, you’re not going to hurt me,” Eddie assures you. “Shit, I’m worried about doing that to you.”

“Guide me?” you ask in a small voice.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead, nose, then lips. He takes the wrist of your slick hand and brings it down to his cock. He wraps your hand right where he wants it and the moan that comes out of him when your fingers touch him is enough to make you cum yourself.

His skin is surprisingly soft as you finally leave the anxiety behind and now focus on the feeling of him in your hand. Eddie’s hand adjusts your grip, and he shows you how he likes to be stroked. He does it once, twice, three times with you, then lets you go so you can do it on your own.

“S’good?” you ask, your eyes glued to your hand working over his dick.

“Mhm. Fuck.” He had been watching your hand work as well but needed to close his eyes because the sight of you touching him was about to bring him over the edge. “Shit babe, I’m sorry, not gonna last.”

“Good, I want to make you cum,” you say.

Eddie grits his teeth, the muscles of his abdomen tighten underneath his scarred skin, and his fist clenches the pillowcase your head is resting on.

“I-I’m cumming. Holy shit, I’m cumming.”

He barely gets the warning out in time before he’s releasing all over your hand. You stroke him through it, keeping the same consistent pace you were doing before. The thought that you’d get lots and lots of practice with this makes your head spin.

Eddie’s white seed coats both his and your stomach by the time he’s spent, every last drop milked from him.

Watching Eddie come apart on top of you was hands down the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. His face contorted in pleasure, a thin sheen of sweat making his body glisten. He’s never looked more perfect.

With a dopey grin on his face, Eddie tries to get his breathing back to normal as he comes down from his high. He needs to lay down, so he flops down next to you.

“Oh baby, that was…fuck. Perfect, is what it was. Thank you.”

He turns his head towards you to give you a kiss. You smile against his lips, pecking them a few times. Then you look down at your stomach, lines of white looking like a Jackson Pollock painting. You swipe two fingers through it and pop them in your mouth. Eddie moans as he watches you suck his cum off yourself.

“You’re going to get me harder again faster than I thought,” Eddie says with a breathless laugh. “But first, it’s your turn.”

He sits up and scoots down to the foot of the bed. This time when he grabs your ankles his hands aren’t freezing. You giggle as he tugs you down, but the laughter turns into a whine as he begins to slip your panties off. You lift your hips to help him, and he gets them off and tosses them on his nightstand. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he just smirks.

“If I had a back pocket, they’d be put there. But that’ll have to do for now.”

You expect him to spread your legs, but he leans up over your body to kiss your lips. His hand cups your neck, then slides down your shoulder and over your breast. He palms it over the lace and that feeling alone has you closing your eyes and arching your back. His thick fingers trail down the side of the bra until he reaches your back. You sit up just enough for him to reach behind and unclip the bra. You smile to yourself, wondering how long it would take him. He gets it fairly quickly, a triumphant sigh spilling from his lips as he does. The lace straps of the bra feel nice against your heated skin as you slide them down your shoulders and toss the bra off the side of the bed. Eddie’s gaze is hungry, and it sends a jolt of pleasure down your spine.

Eddie gently lowers you back down to the pillows. He starts by kissing your lips, then moves down to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, then up the swell of your breast until he reaches your nipple. His tongue works over it before he takes it into his mouth and lets it go with a satisfying pop. Never one to half ass something, Eddie moves to your other breast to give it the same attention. Once he’s satisfied there - even though he makes a mental note that he wants to put as many hickeys as he can there asap - he kisses down your tummy, hands coming to massage your thighs. The further he slides down your body, he eases himself off the bed until he’s kneeling on the floor. One gentle hand on each knee, he spreads your legs in front of him and a moan comes out at the sight.

“Well shit,” Eddie says, echoing your statement from before. “It’s official. Every part of you is fucking perfect.”

You try your best not to be self-conscious, but it’s hard as no one has ever been down there before. When Eddie starts to press kisses on the inside of your thighs, you feel yourself calm down. You let your eyes slip closed and just try to be in the moment and not in your own head. Just feel Eddie’s lips on your skin, inching closer to the place you want them to be.

“You okay?”

“M’fine,” you say, voice in a dreamy haze. The fact that he’s checking in with you eases your nerves as well.

Kisses go higher and higher, coming to the apex of your thigh. Your body jumps, startled as Eddie’s fingers glide along the outside of your folds.

“Sorry, princess,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You hold up your arm to give him a thumbs up and he chuckles again. You’re glad you’re both able to laugh and be silly with one another with this. It makes it feel more real, more intimate, more you.

Eddie uses his fingers to part your folds and the moan that emanates from his throat is purely pornographic.

“Shit, baby,” he says. “Your pussy is so pretty. Fuck, I bet it tastes as good as it looks.”

Between his words and your anticipation for what’s coming next, you feel the urge to buck your hips up, but manage to hold them still.

Eddie’s thumb ghosts over your clit and your hand immediately fists the sheet below you. Your boyfriend smirks to himself, loving making you squirm like this. It blows his mind that he gets to be with you like this. That he’s going to be able to learn your body. What makes you moan, what makes you scream, how to touch you and kiss you just right to make sure you feel as good as you make him feel.

He wants to take it slow since this is both of your first times, but the urge to just dive into your pussy is so strong. He needs to know how you taste. If it’s as sweet as he’s imagined since he jerked off to the thought of you when he went home after meeting you for the first time.

He runs his thick fingers through your slick folds and lets out a hiss when he feels how wet you are.

“This is all for me, baby? Does me touching you work you up this bad?”

“Yes,” you whine out. “Love it when you touch me. Makes me so wet.”

A growl rattles in Eddie’s chest and he experimentally runs a finger around your hole, but never breaching it.

“How’s it feel when you put your fingers in yourself?” he asks.

“Not enough,” you say, breathing becoming more rapid by the second. “Not big enough. Can't reach deep enough.”

“Think my fingers would be better then, princess?”

“Yes!” The way you practically shout it gives Eddie all the encouragement he needs to slide a finger into your right hole. You barely have time to get used to that before his tongue is assaulting your clit. “Fuck! Oh fuck, Eddie.”

The way you say his name has his cock stirring again. He slips a second finger in with the first and the way you move your hips lets him know you’re starting to feel the stretch. Eddie knows the first time can be painful for girls, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He wants this to be perfect for you.

As he starts to slowly pump the two fingers in and out of you, Eddie attaches his lips to your clit, sucking on it as he listens to your little whimpers and moans coming from above.

“Like it, baby?” he pulls his mouth away to ask. “God, you’re so fucking tight around my fingers.”

“So much.” You sound like you’re about to cry, but not in a sad way. Overwhelmed, more likely. When Eddie crooks his fingers in a “come hither” motion and hits that sweet, sweet spot inside of you, your hips buck up and you moan a string of eddie-eddie-eddie-eddie’s. Eddie pumps his fingers a few more times before pulling them out. He doesn’t hesitate, his thick fingers covered in your slick go right from your pussy into his mouth. The garbled noise that comes from the back of your throat is part desperation since your hole feels empty now, and partly at how hot it was to watch Eddie lick you off of himself.

“God, you’re even sweeter than I thought,” he says. “So fucking perfect.”

Eddie lifts the back of your knees over his shoulders so he can be up close and personal with your cute little button and pretty little hole. He dives in immediately, licking into your hole, his fingers keeping you open wide as possible for him. He hardens his tongue as he thrusts it inside you and your hand searches for something to grip onto. You settle for another pillow, but that’s fine. You just need something to squeeze as Eddie brings you pure bliss.

Eddie’s tongue moves up to your clit, licking and sucking, and putting just the right amount of pressure on it. The fact that Eddie was only going to get better at this over time blows your mind. This is his first time and he’s already making you feel euphoric.

His mouth moves down again, but he takes a position where every lick he gives to your hole, his nose nudges against your clit, sending shockwaves up your body.

“Eddie, fuck,” you whine. “Gonna cum, baby.”

“Good girl,” Eddie says against your mound. He slides his hands up to cup at your breasts. “Cum for me, princess.”

It only takes a few more swipes of his tongue until your buildup can’t take anymore. White flashes behind your eyelids as your orgasm gets its hooks in you. The arching of your back was involuntary, and the whimpers and moans you’re making are sounds you didn’t know you were capable of producing. Head thrown back in the pillow, thighs closing around Eddie’s head, you feel ecstasy in this moment. It washes over your body, wading and cresting like waves on a beach.

Letting out a deep breath, you relax all the muscles that have tightened up, including the ones holding your boyfriend’s head between your legs, and melt into the sheets of the bed.

Eddie’s smirk is triumphant as he crawls up the bed, hovering over you as you try to catch your breath.

“So, how was that?”

“Holy shit,” is your only answer and it seems to satisfy him.

Eddie leans down and presses a loving kiss to your lips.

“I can’t wait until I can get a better view of your face when you cum. I bet it’s breathtaking. Your sounds alone are enough for me to get off to for years. But I must say, the view I had was pretty fucking amazing. Damn, baby. The way your pretty little hole kept sucking my fingers in. And your adorable little clit that I could play with all day.”

His words turn you scarlet red and you try to turn your head to hide it in the pillow. Eddie’s not having it though and uses one hand to tilt your chin back towards him.

“You better get used to me giving you compliments, sweet thing. It’s only going to get worse now that you’re officially my girlfriend.”

“How do you always make me feel so warm and fuzzy inside?” you ask.

“Because I’m basically a metal teddy bear,” he says, drinking up his nose in the most adorable fashion.

“You are!” The title fits him so well that you can’t help but laugh.

Eddie chuckles and leans in for another kiss. It starts off tender and innocent enough, but quickly evolves to all tongues and teeth, and Eddie starts pawing at your breasts. Your hips raise off the bed and rub against Eddie’s, where you can feel his cock, hard again now.

“Eddie,” you whine as he moves his kisses to your neck.

“Yeah, baby?” He’s leaving a hickey that will definitely show, even if you wear a turtleneck.

“Need you.”

He hums against your skin as his hands roam the expanses of bare skin before him.

“How, sweetheart? Tell me how.”

“Need you in me,” you whimper. “Need you so close.”

Eddie leans over your body, and it places one of his most gruesome scars right in front of your face. Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you place a soft kiss against the patch of pink and white skin. There’s a smile on Eddie’s face as he comes back with a condom and small tube of lube in hand.

You watch as Eddie slips the condom on. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but you can’t take your eyes off his long, thick cock. If just two of his fingers made you feel the stretch, you can’t imagine how full you’ll feel with all of Eddie buried inside you.

He grabs the lube and shrugs as he pours some into his hand. The smell of cherries floods the air.

“Just wanna be extra careful,” he explains as he fists the lube over his cock. “I want to make it as painless for you as I can.”

“You are the absolute sweetest,” you tell him.

Once the lube is sufficiently applied, you lay back against the pillows and watch Eddie settle between your legs. He grabs a spare pillow and taps the side of your hip. You raise them so he can slide the pillow under.

Eddie leans up and presses a slow and loving kiss against your lips.

“Ready, princess?”

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Kiss me while you go in?”

He did not need to be told twice. Eddie lines himself up with your entrance, and barely breaches you. You hardly feel a thing as Eddie comes up and kisses you, pouring all his devotion and heart into it. His hand snakes between your bodies as well to start rubbing your clit. Maybe between the kissing and the attention on your clit will help ease any discomfort you might have. The sting and burn are still there though, but it’s more bearable with the world's best kisses.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you, sweetheart,” Eddie says against your lips.

“N-Not hurting,” you say, hand coming up to grip at his shoulder.

Eddie nods, kissing your neck. “Let me know what you need. I’ll give you whatever you n-need.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, baby.” You wrap your legs around his, helping to guide him in.

Eddie groans and the sound makes you tremble with pleasure. “Shit, you feel s’fucking perfect. Like we were made for each other.”

“Uh huh,” you pant out, one hand sliding up to tangle in Eddie’s hair. There’s a pinch and you feel a sting between your legs as Eddie bottoms out, but you don’t say anything as you feel his hot kisses on your skin. It doesn’t hurt for long, and you know Eddie would pause his motions, but that’s the last thing you want.

“F-Faster, Eddie,” you say. “Want more.”

His kisses trail up to your lips and his hips pick up speed.

“This good, baby?” he asks.

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

His hand moves from your clit to squeeze your hip. He holds it in his tight grip as his hips start to piston in and out of you, his pace becoming more irregular. It gives you a warm feeling in your limbs as you realize you can already recognize when Eddie is close to cumming. You clench around him, and he gasps, hand sliding from your hip to cup your breast.

“I can’t believe how fucking tight you are, baby,” he groans. “Such a perfect pussy.”

With a moan, you arch your back, forcing your breast even more into your boyfriend’s hand.

“Eddie, you’re so big. Love how you fill me up.”

“M’close. Wanna hold out but you feel too good around me.” His lips capture yours and you’re instantly licking into his mouth. Your hand tugs gently on his hair and his hips snap forward, the mattress creaking in protest at the ferocity. You pull back and rest your forehead against Eddie’s.

“Want you to feel good,” you say. “Want you to cum.”

A guttural moan comes from his throat and it’s enough to make you orgasm on the spot. His sounds are music to your ears, and you’d listen to him make them for the rest of your lives if he let you.

“Gonna, baby. Gonna cum.”

You nod at him, encouraging him as your fingers scratch at his scalp. He goes to bury his face in your neck, but you stop him.

“Wanna see your face,” you tell him. “Wanna watch you.”

Eddie nods, sweat beading on his forehead as his face scrunches in pleasure. He looks so beautiful you can’t help but steal a few more kisses.

“Cum for me, Eddie.”

The words are all he needs, his hips thrusting once, twice, before a whine leaves his lips as he spills inside the condom. The feeling of his cock twitching inside of you sends a flutter through you and a smile spreads on your face. Eddie’s eyes focus on your face as he rides out his high, and a matching smile grows on his face as he takes in your flushed and grinning face.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Eddie says between ragged breaths.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands and bring his lips down to yours. Never taking his mouth off of yours, he slips out of you and lays down next to you on the bed.

You reluctantly pull away when you need air, but you rest your hands on Eddie’s chest so you’re still touching him in some way. He slips out of the condom, ties it off, and tosses it in the trash can next to his bed. When he rolls back over to face you, you wrap your arms around his neck, and he pulls your body against his.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says.

“Good, baby?”

“Good? Good? Try fucking amazing,” Eddie says. He peppers kisses all over your face, making you giggle. “I’m sorry you didn’t cum though, baby.”

“Sweetie, I did,” you tell him. “Because of your sinful mouth.”

Eddie ducks his head bashfully, a red tint coming to his cheeks.

“Yeah, but not while I was in you.”

“That’s okay,” you say honestly. You push some of the damp hair from his forehead and kiss his cheek. “Most girls don’t the first time like that. But my boyfriend is generous and made sure I was taken care of beforehand.”

His hand trails up and down your back as he smiles down at you.

“Was my pleasure, baby. Trust me.”

With a giggle, you slip from his arms and off the bed. He pouts but you assure him you’ll be right back before slipping into the bathroom. Your sister never taught you much in life, but once piece of advice she’d given you is to pee after sex. When you walk back into Eddie’s room, his face is still blissed out as he stares up at the ceiling. He lifts his head when he sees you in the doorway and raises an eyebrow at you.

“All good?”

“Mhmm,” you say, making your way back to the bed. “There was only a little bit of blood.”

Eddie sits up quickly, frown coming to his face.

“What? Blood? Are you okay? Was I too rough?”

The concern on his face melts your heart and you shake your head as you sit down next to him.

“Oh, baby, no.” He pulls you into his lap and you rest your hands on his shoulders. “It’s just something that happens the first time. You were perfect. Thank you for being so careful with me.”

Eddie nods and rests his forehead against yours.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Sleepy?” you ask.

His responding yawn makes you chuckle, and you slide from his lap. You grab your panties from the nightstand and Eddie’s shirt from the floor and slip them on.

“You’re not gonna stay naked?” Eddie asks with a pout.

“It’s freezing!” you say.

“I’ll keep you warm.” Eddie lays down and opens his arms for you. You scoop his boxers up from the floor and toss them at his chest before slipping under the covers. He pulls them up his hips and situates himself back against the pillows.

Blankets pulled up to your neck, you sling your arm over Eddie’s middle and lay your head on his shoulder. Wrapped up in his embrace, you’ve never felt happier. The two of you whisper back and forth in the dark room for a few moments before you drift off to sleep, warm and cozy in each other’s arms.

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