#I love these fuckin idiots i hope they get a happy ending

[orcboxer]

Olrox: I'm not in love with you, Mizrak.

Mizrak: [chooses his ideals over staying with Olrox]

Olrox:

[biolumien]

Hi!! Your rooftop smoke fic with Hoshina was just superb. 😭💖

Was wondering If could request a scenario where they had been mutually pining for one another. And they'd, on more than one occasion catch each other's eyes across the room. And a handful of people from the Defense Force notices. Cause could they be more obvious?

Whether that would end up angsty or with a happy ending is up to you! I love the way you write for Hoshina. You capture him pretty perfectly haha

Stay safe and healthy!!

notes: omg... thank you for your compliments... it means smsm! uhh... well. this kinda took on a life of its own, i'm sorry. i hope you don't mind ;-;;

say it! come on, say it!

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader alternatively: romcom except then i smacked it so hard with angst at the end. sorry. word count: 2400

“you need to close your mouth when you’re staring.” you feel the ice-cold touch of a can press against your cheek, and you shriek as you stare up at–

“ah, fuck. i’m not staring, narumi,” you mutter, taking the soda can from him. narumi seemed less than convinced, his eyes barely visible from underneath his bangs. 

“o-kay. and you’re totally not ogling hoshina with googly eyes.” narumi cracks open his own soda, taking a long sip from the can. “why don’t you just date already? i’m gonna be honest, i’m sick of you looking at him like that. it’s boring, bland, predictable… fuckin’ hate that will they won’t they bullshit.” 

“i can’t,” you complain dramatically. 

hoshina, from the other side of the room, was talking to captain ashiro while examining some paperwork. occasionally, okonogi would come over, point out some new development, and there’d seem to be another heated debate between the three. you always liked seeing hoshina in his element—whether it be instructing other officers, training with his blades, or awkwardly not making eye contact with him when he spoke to you. 

“like hell you can’t!” narumi hissed, reaching out to put you in a headlock. “stop looking at him like that!” 

“like hell what? who’s looking at who?” 

hoshina had come over, staring at the two of you, right as narumi’s arm was beginning to wrap around your neck. narumi immediately flew back from you as you laughed nervously. 

“uhh, like hell i, umm…” you fumbled for an answer, staring up at hoshina nervously. why had he just come over? why was he looking at you like that? your lips quiver for a moment.

“oh, relax!” hoshina clapped you across the back, laughing. “you look so nervous! like you’ve just confessed you had some very, very personal feelings or something! that’s adorable…” 

let me die, you think furtively as hoshina’s hand brushes your shoulder. narumi’s face was pinched. 

“don’t let narumi bully you too much; he’s just a little lowlife, after all,” hoshina said with teasing venom in his voice. 

“you bitch,” narumi growled. “i have no idea how they see anything in y—” his face paled as the words left his lips, and you think you almost see god for a minute. you hide your face with your hands, waiting for hoshina’s verdict, and you swear that the next moment you get, you were going to make narumi very sorry for spilling your metaphorical, hell, call them literal at this point, guts out in the open. 

“hmm?” hoshina hums. the world fell silent—at least silent to you, in any case, your eardrums pounding in time with your heartbeat. “well—”

“vice captain hoshina!” mina ashiro’s voice was sharp and piercing. “time to go.” 

“huh?” hoshina cocks his head. “ah, of course, captain. be right there!” 

he turned to you and narumi with a small smile, one of his fangs peeking out for a moment before waving his fingers. 

“see you.” he nods his head to you specifically before he turns away. 

you wait until you are absolutely, absolutely sure he’s out of earshot before turning on narumi, throwing your soda can at his head. 

“fuck!” narumi swore. “what the fuck was that for?” 

“you idiot! why did you basically confess to him for me?!” you hiss. “i’m trying to count on you to not run your damn mouth!” 

“hoshina’s an idiot,” narumi says sullenly. “i bet he didn’t even notice.” 

[…]

the walk through the hallway was silent, up until—

“you’re red,” mina says, her hand reaching for her skirt pocket to pull out her phone. 

“stop,” hoshina’s voice is strangled, far more strangled than he’d like it to be. “no, i’m serious. no photos. you’ll need to talk to my PR agent about that.” hoshina’s ears were tinged pink, and he raised his hands to try and hide the flush. 

“hoshina,” okonogi sounded disapproving, “why don’t you just confess already? i’m getting tired watching you get so concerned over them…” 

“ha! confess,” hoshina laughs. “and what good would that do? i’m not exactly peak romance material, you know this…” 

“the only one not noticing that is you, hoshina,” mina mutters. “you get all sullen when they leave and happy when they come back, but you have to act like a… hmm… what does he act like, okonogi?” 

hoshina’s eyes went wide as okonogi hummed. 

“a cat!” okonogi declares emphatically. 

“yes. you’re right,” mina says decisively. “that’s a good fit. you act like a cat about it. you try to—”

“stop. stop it, stop it, i don’t want to hear it. stop analyzing my personality. this isn’t some kind of joke,” hoshina says, his voice sounding more flustered as he went on. “they’re never gonna say yes. it’s stupid. confessing like this… it would only be a burden on all of us.” 

mina and okonogi exchanged a look.

“besides, i’m a bad boyfriend. remember that last girl, from operations,” hoshina laughed. “broke her heart in three seconds flat.” 

“… if i remember correctly, you liked her quite a lot, though,” okonogi said hesitantly. 

“ha! so what if i did?” hoshina asked. “she only just left when i… hm.” his smile seemed to falter somewhat, but he laughed. “it’s fine. it’s fine. i’m fine.” 

behind his back, mina and okonogi exchanged another look. 

but his mind flickered back to his hand on your back, and wondered if you leaning into his touch was a fluke. 

[…]

you stare at hoshina from across the room. he’s eating by himself, half a piece of melon bread in his mouth as he stared down at some papers in his hand. you’d have asked to sit next to him, if only you were braver. but you were a coward, so here you were. you stare down at your own food, tearing off a corner of the red bean bun you were eating, popping it in your mouth. 

your crush on hoshina was about as subtle as a freight train. which is to say, you felt it coming on, and then by the time you’d fully reconciled it, you were already being run over repeatedly. it was just grappling, mostly, with how cool he was, endlessly. 

you wondered what it would be like to live under the intensity of his stare, as it enveloped you whole. 

would it be like a benevolent fire? or would he raze you so wholly that there’d be nothing left? 

you wanted to find out. you wanted to find out, but you were so scared he’d burn you before you could even get close. but what was important was that hoshina, for sure, didn’t even bother to reciprocate your feelings. that’s what you were so sure of—because why would someone like him give you the pleasure of his time? surely his time was more valuable than wasting it on a nobody like you. 

his intensity, sharpened to a fine point, was better spent figuring out how to permanently eradicate the kaiju threat altogether. 

right?

you sighed miserably. 

“now that sounds like a miserable sound to me,” hoshina’s voice rang out right next to your ear. 

you nearly jumped out of your skin as soon as you heard his voice, too focused for a second on the soft, tickling sensation of his breath against the shell of your ear. your face bloomed bright red, and you immediately backed away from him, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. 

“hoshina!” you stammer. “what—what are you doing?” 

“eating?” hoshina raises his eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his lips. “noticed you were staring. take a picture, by the way, if you want. they do last longer than the momentary glances.” he sat down next to you, continuing to eat.

so he had noticed you staring. 

“s-sorry. for staring,” you say. 

“huh? why are you sorry?” hoshina asks, cocking his head at you, one of his eyes opening a bit wider. “i don’t mind. if i minded, i woulda said something.” your face flushed a little more at his words, and you looked away as he laughed. 

“you really are cute,” he says fondly, reaching out a hand to pat your head.

… huh?

“what?” you ask weakly. 

“huh? did i say something weird?” hoshina asks, the picture perfect image of innocence—or so you’d say, if his eyes weren’t narrowed at you, and the smile on his face a little too much like a smirk, waiting for how you’d react. 

“no…? i guess? it’s just not something i thought you’d say. to me,” you say falteringly, looking away for a moment. 

“mm. i guess i should make a habit of saying it more, huh?” hoshina teases, removing his hand from your head. 

and as you fluster a little more, you curse god for your crush on soshiro hoshina. 

[…]

“you need to quit fucking around,” narumi says, pointing a dumbbell at hoshina in the training room. 

“fucking around? i’m doing nothing of the sort,” hoshina says, that mask of innocence still on his face. narumi’s brow furrows. 

“sure, and you don’t also ogle… you need to get your shit together and confess, or swear to god, i’ll kill one of you. or, hell, why don’t we just kill both of you so i don’t have to fucking look at you?” narumi scoffs, anger spiking in his voice. 

“ha, yeah, maybe if you do that i’ll finally be free from hearing your annoying, grating voice,” hoshina says, prodding narumi in the chest.

“yeah, but then you won’t confess your feelings and then i’ll have to die knowing i broke up a couple that hadn’t even gotten together,” narumi grumbles. “i’m not a monster.”

“huh?” hoshina asks.

narumi looked like he was about to blow a gasket.

“wait, so you didn’t know they reciprocate?”

“i–well, i… hoped?” hoshina says, realizing how stupid he must sound. his mind flit back to your reactions the past few days–hell, the past few weeks? maybe the past few months? “oh. shit.”

“oh. shit. indeed,” narumi mocks. “so, are you going to tell them?”

“i…” hoshina suddenly realized how terrified he was. his face paled, his hand coming up to his mouth. “i… shit. wait. this is–fuck. i…” he ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs up past his face, a shaking sigh passing his lips. “no. this is… how would i even begin to explain it? i’m not… i can’t. i’m not–i can’t be a good partner. not in this line of work. my judgement could be compromised! that wouldn’t–”

“your judgement is already compromised,” narumi says, a bared snarl-turned-smile on his lips. “you know, hoshina. this is probably the most interesting you’ve ever been. you’re always facades, niceties. pretended you were untouchable, swimming in that sea of self-loathing and ineptitude. but maybe you’re beginning to live a little, aren’t you?”

hoshina’s eyes widened.

living?

[...]

it’d always come to the worst, you thought. you coughed up a mouthful of blood as another round of rubble began to creak overhead. you tried to force your body to move, and your suit pulsed in response to your movements, attempting to close the bloody gashes across your body from the kaiju attack. 

“command, come in,” you gasped out, holding up a shaking hand to your in-ear. you winced as there was only a clicking static in response–was no one coming? were you all alone? were you going to die like this, your limbs barely even able to hold up their own weight even with most of your combat power unleashed? is this all you were good for? your knees buckled as you collapsed onto the ground, coughing out a mouthful of blood.

were you going to die like this?

you couldn’t.

you didn’t want to.

your vision swam a bit as you coughed out another mouthful of blood, your mind lingering.

hoshina had touched your back right before you’d left, a small smile crossing his face.

“don’t die,” he’d said. 

and here you were, stumbling through the rubble, hurting so badly that you might as well be dead. 

it was utterly and painfully cliche to think about letting hoshina down. you didn’t want to, and yet there was a horrifying possibility that you would. and as you buckled again, collapsing onto your knees, you coughed out another mouthful of blood.

fuck.

“command,” you repeated, in a weaker voice. “please. if someone–if anyone can hear me–i need help. suit damage is–” you cough again, wiping blood from your mouth. “--critical. please.” 

and as your vision swam, you felt a hand press against your shoulder.

“there you are.”

you blinked hard, staring up at the face of soshiro hoshina, who’d pulled his mask off, leaning down to pull you into his arms.

“hoshina,” you whisper. “i’m sorry–i shouldn’t have… i got…”

“why are you apologizing?” hoshina asks, his voice sounding more choked than you’d like it to be.

“i didn’t mean to–i didn’t mean for this to happen.” you think you’re bleeding across hoshina’s suit, across his gloves as you press your head against his shoulder. 

hoshina laughs desperately, wetly.

“you didn’t mean to–of course you didn’t mean to!” hoshina protests. “the attack was more than any of us could have predicted–of course you didn’t mean for any of this happen–i don’t want you to apologize for that.” his hand reaches up to swipe some blood away from your brow. “come on, love. i have to tell you how i feel–that bastard was right, after all. my judgement was compromised from the beginning, around you.” 

“that bastard? narumi?” you ask, coughing a bit. why did it feel so cold? your eyes fluttered for a moment,  “what does he have to do with any of this–”

“i love you,” hoshina says. “i’m sorry it took me this long to tell you. and i’m selfish, for waiting until you’re bloodied, like this, to tell you.” you didn’t like the desperate look in his eyes like he was convinced you were going to die. you leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“you bastard,” you muttered. “couldn’t you have thought up a better time and place for all of this?” 

“no,” hoshina admits. “because i’m selfish, after all.” he smiles at you, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. “come on. let’s get you to the medbay. i’m not letting you die on me yet.”

“okay,” you whispered weakly. “okay.”

[theplumsoldier]

loverboy

summary: carmen makes a move on you while you think he's still got a girlfriend. could've gone smoother but you end up inviting him

pairing: carmy berzatto x afab!reader

word count: 4,2k

warnings: insecurities, self-doubt, small lies (carm makes you believe he lives closer to you than he does), vulgar language, mention of "setting boundaries" of a not-yet-existing-fwb-relationship, 18+ MDNI; smut, unprotected sex, semi-public grinding, oral (f&m receiving) soft!carm, idiots in love, friends to lovers!!

"You know, I don't think I've said this." He hadn't. "But I'm-I'm really—we're all really glad to have you here."

He was nodding to himself as he said it, and he hoped you didn't notice the hesitation. Carmy wasn't for a second doubtful that they were happy—he was certainly happy that you had joined the crew during the hectic weeks prior to The Bear's opening.

It was just that now, here, sitting alone with you in the back alley of the restaurant, sharing one of the bottles of expensive-as-shit Coup Beaujolais, he was getting unsure of himself. On whether he had completely misread your banter. He wasn't very good with that, flirting—never knew when someone was hitting on him and always double-checking whether he himself was, in fact, hitting on someone. Richie had said the chemistry between you guys was more dangerous than Fak recalibrating. Fucking stupid, he thought, but it made him think.

And then Carmy realized he had been flirting with you, in his own stupid fucking way which he worried you hadn't picked up on. Shit, he hadn't noticed it before Richie told him. Now that he sat there, with you, alone, he wondered if Richie had been fucking with him again.

Carmy wanted to know how you felt about him, but he didn't want to fuck up as was his specialty lately—didn't wanna make you uncomfortable, didn't wanna make anything weird.

"Yeah, uh. Thanks, chef," said you, chewing at your bottom lip to ease the tension. Carmy had a real habit of making situations awkward. "I'm glad you'll have me."

Phrasing.

Carm nodded, the persistent way he does whenever he's turning words in his head. You could almost hear the gears scraping.

"You always seem so cool—about everything. Like, even though we're jumpin' off the fuckin' walls, screaming n'shit, you'll just—you're collected. S'a real good quality, you know?"

You grinned, thinking of those exact memories, some just a couple of hours old. "Yeah, well—I'm sure it's more hectic n'the kitchen, right? Like there's, open fire, sharp knives and shit. Gotta be jumpin', like, all the time, yeah? To avoid the obstacles n'stuff."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Peter Parker-type shit."

"Yeah."

You held the plastic cup out and he poured you another one.

"Anyway, keeps me sane, you know? I think—I think at some point you made me realize that—that, you know, it's not normal to fuckin' scream all day. Like I didn't even realize I got fuckin' migraines 'til it was quiet, you feel me?"

It made you bubbly, to hear that Carmen did in fact appreciate having you be a part of the team.

You just sat there, quietly watching him. His bicep popped when he poured a slob into his own cup. You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips before taking a sip.

You sat like that, speaking mindlessly for a while, sharing experiences and goofing around. You loved this, getting to know him better, but when you suddenly found that he had sought closer to you, you felt your heart leap.

His body was so close you could feel the heat of his body radiate. It was intoxicating, more than the wine and though your subconscious reminded you it was wrong to lean into his welcoming touch, you couldn't help but forget what was right and wrong.

His crystal blue eyes caught the light from the street lamp, and you were mesmerized as he looked into your soul. You felt vulnerable but safe in his company.

Though there had been much lead-up, it seemed to come out of the blue. Carmy leaned in, and his eyes were fixated on your lips. Before your lips touched, your senses returned and you moved back against the fence.

"Yo, what the fuck are you doing?"

Fuck.

"Wait—I'm sorry! I'm sorry."

"You have a girlfriend!"

Oh.

"Wha—no, no—shit, that's not—" he stumbled back, running a hand over his dazed face, dragging the expression down with it.

Fuck—fuck! Carmen thought he must look like a fucking jagoff.

He stood with his back to you, but you could see the way his broad shoulders heaved with every.

You pushed, not appreciating the silence. "Yeah, no—her name is Claire. You've been dating her a couple months now and known her, for like, forever. That ring any bells?"

When Carmen turned around to face you, he looked defeated. He then crouched down beside you again.

"We broke up."

What?

Carmen told you how he had had an existential crisis during opening night, how he had thought he vented to Tina while stuck in the walk-in, and Claire had heard everything he had said. You could sense the sadness in his voice, but there was no regret. It spread a warm feeling in your chest, and you immediately felt a pang of guilt. When you had first met Carm, he had been with Claire and so the immediate attraction you had felt—well, you had obviously tried to suppress that.

"—I guess I just... I realized I can't both manage a—a restaurant and a relationship. I—I don't know, it don't come natural to me."

Your brows were furrowed, mixed feeling prickling at your skin. "So... why'd you try to kiss me just now?"

Again, he looked despondent.

"I—fuck, I don't know, I've—I guess I've just been feeling this for a while now, with—with you and I dunno. Richie's been getting in my head and I had a stupid thought and figured fuck it, you know?"

It wasn't a question but he was looking for an answer on your expression. Carmen feared you had stopped him from kissing you, not because you thought he had a girlfriend, but because you didn't want to kiss him.

Carmy watched as you looked thoughtfully at the ground, his hands fidgeting as you did the same.

Fuck.

It's over, he thought to himself.

Battling the voices in your head telling you not to, you said: "You know, it's not that the thought of kissing you, like, disgusts me."

His head tilted upward, hope in his sorry eyes.

"No?" he quizzed sheepishly.

"No," you chuckled. "I mean, I've thought about it before."

Carm lit up. "Ye—yeah?"

"Yeah," nodded you, wetting your lips as you recalled your fantasies. "It'd probably be stupid though, right?"

"So stupid," he agreed, nodding vigorously as if trying to shake the thought. It would be fucking stupid. He knew it. But it didn't deter him. Carm wanted to take the chance. He shouldn't, after all, he broke it off with Claire because he "wasn't ready". Why would he be ready now? "Still want to, though."

So badly. It felt more like an urge; a need rather than a want.

"So do it," you finally tested.

If you didn't, you were sure you'd back out, run into the kitchen with your tail between your legs. But you would regret that, you knew it. You tried to convince yourself you shouldn't back away. You wanted this—had for a while. Carm was the one who should second-guess himself, not you. He had ended a relationship because he couldn't dedicate himself and now he wanted to give it another shot. With you. It made you desperate, knowing he wanted you like you wanted him. Still, you worried he would kiss you and regret it immediately, confirmed in his suspicions—he didn't have time for romance. Keep your eye on the price.

"Fuck it," breathed he, putting aside an internal battle and leaned closer, knocking aside the bottle of wine as he pressed his hungry lips to you.

Your lips felt plump against his, chewed with anticipation and soft with spit. You tasted like a perfect dessert.

Lost in the growing heat, you cradled his face, swiping your warm tongue over his needy lips and Carmen did not hesitate to grant you entrance. A desperate although soft whine escaped him and you swallowed it down, living for the way he desired you.

Without interrupting the dance your tongues twirled, Carmen's large palm grasped your hip and pulled you into his lap. Automatically you ground down on him and moaned at the sensation of what you did to him.

You'd thought about how he would feel against you. From behind the bar, you always had a perfect view of his station and often got distracted by the way he moved—the way his mouth curled when he would scream commands, the way his arms would flex as he worked. It was a surprise nobody had filed a complaint against you. On more than one occasion you had mixed the wrong drink or spilled liquor because you just couldn't keep your eyes off of him. It was unprofessional, but he was mesmerizing like a starry sky; the longer you looked, the deeper you fell into the abyss.

Carmen mumbled a curse under his breath as he broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he ground up into your clothes sex.

"Do—doesn't feel so stupid, huh?"

You grinned and shook your head lightly, pressing your forehead against his.

"If we're gonna fuck we should probably talk about it," you said blatantly. "Set some ground rules."

Carmen was caught off guard for a second. He knew what he wanted but when you said it so casually it made something twitch in him.

His eyes were attached to your lips. They looked so delicious, kissed rough and he pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb before he even registered it.

"Probably," he breathed even though he wasn't quite sure what your words actually meant. He was quite literally thinking with his cock.

Carmen clashed his insatiable lips to yours again, but the second he did so, the back door to The Bear clicked open and Marcus appeared, garbage bags in hand. By the time you looked up at him, you had clumsily shuffled off of Carmen, sitting awkwardly with your legs to your chest. You weren't sure what he'd seen nor what he made of it.

"Hey," he hummed, moving to sling the plastic bags into the container.

"Sup, bro," acknowledged Carm, putting his hands on his hips, suddenly standing up, playing it cool.

"Imma call it a night," Marcus said. "See y'all tomorrow."

"Yeah, uh—good job t'day."

Marcus disappeared and Carmen looked back down at you, holding out a hand to help you to your feet. The interruption had broken the spell.

"Can I walk you home?" he offered. It made more sense to him, taking you home. He wasn't about to violate health code on the kitchen floor of his own restaurant.

"You live close to Maygrey?"

No.

"Yeah."

The walk might do him some good, he figured. Perhaps the chivalrous gesture would help him get lucky tonight, and even if you decided you were not about to fool around with him, he could at least say he had done a good deed today.

Carm hadn't realized you made a twenty-minute walk every night, and although he often did the same, it bothered him a great deal. He hadn't had any uncomfortable encounters himself, but he knew Sugar had. One time when she had been late to dinner at his place because of some creep bothering her on the street, and he had asked her why she hadn't called him (he would have picked her up), she told him it was not a first nor was it a last. It angered him, knowing it was not unusual for a woman to feel afraid when walking alone.

Carmen recalled your mention of ground rules, but you didn't once embark on the topic. Instead of talking about sex, you joked as if you were friends and nothing more. It made him wonder if you regretted kissing him.

Of course you invited him up. How could you not?

Carm looked dubious suddenly and you raised a brow, giving him a soft smile.

"I won't be mad if you turn me down now. No hard feelings."

He realized you were just a pair of self-doubting idiots—none of you wanting to pressure the other into something you might regret. And Carmen knew he might just do that—not because he was unsure whether he wanted this with you (he hadn't wanted something this much in a long time), no—he feared he would find himself in the same emotional clusterfuck he had with Claire.

Something about you made him want to throw caution to the wind and become the loverboy he so pathetically wanted to be for you.

How could he ever turn you down? A simple kiss in a back alley had dragged him in too deep.

You stood atop the staircase and watched curiously as Carmen closed the space. His hand cradled your face and he planted a soft kiss on your lips, not as vigorous a kiss as earlier that night, but just as hungry, just as passionate.

He then gave you a reassuring look and you knew you had it bad cause you could've sworn you fell in love with him just then.

Grabbing his hand you dragged him along with you, eagerly pulling him up the steps to your apartment, not wasting a goddamn second in connecting your lips again.

Carm chuckled against your lips as you pushed him into the door, closing it with him as if locking you away from the outside world. It was just the two of you.

Carmen was too far away to realize you had undone his belt until the familiar clinking sounded. He was so fucking hard by now, aroused by your eagerness. It was almost mortifying.

He composed himself. "Where's the bedroom?"

You gave him a look. "It's a one-room apartment, Carm."

For the first time, he looked around and got the message. The kitchen was awkwardly lodged into a small corner of the living room and the living room was also the bedroom. There was a door three feet ahead but he was unsure whether it was a closet or a bathroom.

"So when I fuck you on the couch I'll also be fucking you in the dining room?"

You looped your arms around his front from behind, pointing to the corner of the room. "Yeah, n'the trashcan over there's the bathroom."

He spun around, placing his large hands on your hips to keep you close. "Cozy."

There was a glimmering to his eyes, and his contagious charm infected you with an enticing smirk. You leaned in, cradling your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

"So you gonna fuck me Carmy? Or are ya just all talk?" teased you, planting wet kisses against his throat, sucking the place below his ear. That's the spot.

In a flash, he hooked your legs around his waist and you would've been embarrassed by the stupid fucking giggle escaping you if a low moan hadn't interrupted you. His restrained cock felt even bigger now, pressing up into your clothed crotch.

You could hardly wait to see his weeping head.

Carmen straddled you on the couch, breaking your lips apart to shift his focus. Peppering kisses down your neck, your chest heaved with a shaky breath, whining for him. You wondered if he would flip you over and fuck you roughly if you asked nicely.

Another time you told yourself. Tonight, you were too ecstatic as he worshipped your body like the prettiest fucking tenderloin he'd ever seen. The thought made you smile into your arm, gasping as his hot breath swept over your belly.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he murmured against your skin, tongue poking out to taste the flesh.

Writhing beneath him, you tugged at his curls, and he swore he was about to bust right there, with your glossy and dazed eyes blinking down at him. Fuck, Carm wanted to hear you beg for him.

"What is it, baby girl?" he taunted, looking curiously at you while he peppered kisses across the skin he exposed by lifting up your shirt.

When you ground up your hips to show him where you wanted him, he kept you pressed against the cushion. You cried out.

"Carmy!" you mewled, helplessly thrashing.

After removing your shirt, he praised your patience: "you're so good for me," he said and unbuttoned your jeans. "Tell me what you want, sweet girl."

You threw your head back into a pillow with a thud, wanting to both strangle and fuck him (which you had wanted many times already since you started bartending at The Bear) as he pressed teasing, open-mouthed kisses by the seams of your panty line.

"Just—mpff! Fuck me already, Carm," you whined.

His face tilted up and you wanted to slap the smirk right off of his sly face. "In a minute, baby."

As he moved back a little, you thought he was finally going to give you what you wanted, but when you arched your back with need he used your movements to flip you onto your stomach. He roughly placed you as he pleased, propping you on your knees, and slid in under you.

"Just a quick taste, baby," he drawled.

Realizing he was gonna eat you out, you melted completely, seated perfectly on his face as was his wish. You barely managed to get comfortable before he hooked a finger through the leg of your underwear, the cold of his ring making you shiver and he dug in like a man starved.

A sound bordering on a thirsty moan and a dry cry escaped you. Carmen looped his arms around your thighs. His tongue explored the nooks of your lips, lapping slick from your folds and into your pussy.

A string of curses left your lips as he relished your juices, groaning into your cunt. He couldn't help but relieve some of the pressure on his impossibly hard cock by palming himself through his jeans.

He had lost himself for a moment there and when he looked up, he became doe-eyed with adoration. You had removed your bra.

His hand left his cock and slid up your curves, palming your breast instead and the other went to deftly work your clit. He elicited a muffled shriek from you, obviously surprised by the sudden added sensation to the delicate bud.

"Carmy," you panted, grinding your hips against his mouth, all of it seeming both too much and not enough. He was going to ruin you and you would let him. "Fu—fuck! M'gonna come, Carm."

Your confession merely made him more eager, more hungry and he concentrated on bringing you closer, encouraging each wave of your hips with a low moan. Carmen let you fuck his face, rolling and grinding on him to persuade your release closer. You grabbed at his curls to steady yourself as it came in euphoric waves, moaning, crying, whimpering, and grinning as he lapped your cum, savoring every last drop. It quickly became too much though, and as his nose tickled your sensitive clit, you fell apart, tilting over and crashing above him.

"Ho—holy fuck," you panted and he stood up from the couch, ridding himself of his clothes until there was nothing but a gold chain gleaming at his chest.

Still recovering from your orgasm, you gaped at his size. The head was red and strained, pre-cum beading the slit making it look like it was crying. The shaft was long with protruding veins drawing purple along the length and he was thick, too thick to fit in the circle created when you connect the tip of your index with that of your thumb.

He was perfect.

Carmen looked a bit flustered from your shameless gawking but you couldn't help it. "You're beautiful, Carm."

He grinned sheepishly down at you, grasping your legs, pulling you to the edge of the couch, resting your calves on his shoulders.

"You are," he insisted, pressing his lips to yours in a feverishly soft kiss as he aligned his head with your folds.

Gasping, you took a second to relax around his head, knowing it would sting painfully if you didn't. You wouldn't let anything ruin this moment. Not with his eyes gazing so intensely down at you; not with saliva connecting your mouths with a string, not with him before you like this, looking like he was carved by fucking Donatello, nothing hiding an inch of his tantalizingly soft skin bar the gold chain dangling from his neck.

You instinctively edged closer, putting a hand on his shoulder to guide him into you. He eased into you as he kissed you hungrily—insatiable, always needing more of your taste.

Carm held his breath as he bottomed out, finally exhaling a shaky breath. He couldn't believe how good you felt around him, hugging—no squeezing the life out of his cock as you desperately clawed on his back, feeling every cleft and hill, moaning into his mouth. He hoped your nails would leave marks on his skin.

With your forehead pressed against his, you looked down with hooded eyes and watch as he slid in, devastatingly slow, inch by inch. Carm followed your gaze.

"God, look how good you're takin' me, baby. Doin' so well f'me—doin' so good," he groaned, head digging into your neck, licking, sucking, biting.

He commenced a thrusting-grinding pace, reaching every crevice inside you, tickling all the right places. You cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure so delicious as he poked and prodded places untouched. He felt unreal.

Soon Carmen drilled into you like a madman, steadying himself against your hips, rutting into you at a bruising pace. You'd feel him long after he was gone.

You held him close by his neck, securing him by threading your fingers through that damn sexy gold chain and the locks of his hair. His brows were furrowed, concentration and bliss evident in his expression.

You begged him to go faster, harder—before you knew it he granted your wish and his hand had returned to your poor clit, and you grasped whatever you could, the armrest, cushions, him.

You chanted his name, exchanging your vocabulary for his name so that he was all you knew. Carm fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own as you cried his name. The combination of your moans, your begging, and the vulgar sounds of your skin slapping—it made him fucking delirious.

His bicep flexed delectably as he put all his weight on his right arm, making a considerate pause for a sweet but overwhelmingly intense kiss, only to thrust impossibly deeper.

Feeling his consistent pace become erratic, you begged him. "Please, please, Carm—fill me up."

You could feel your frantic pleas going straight to his cock as he twitched inside you, groaning—but fuck it sounded like a frail whimper.

The furrow between his brows deepened, a red blush painting his face and chest.

"You're fuckin' unreal," he manages, shaking his head.

Carmy's pace became sloppier and more desperate, cursing into your mouth as he stuttered, a strangled moan signaling his high.

He filled you up, squirting white ropes of velvety cum into you. You felt his seed trickle out as if there was not enough room for his generous load. Then he collapsed beside you.

You lay still for a minute or so, chests heaving in unison as you came back down to Earth.

"Fuck," he said after some time, pronouncing the cuss as if he had just learned the word.

You chuckled, agreeing. "Yeah."

"Shit, lemme get ya somethin' for the—"

"No, no—don't worry," you stopped him, already getting up before he could do much. He watched you go, admiring your naked body. You reached between your legs, feeling his cum trickle down your thighs. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Carmy laughed when he realized what was going on, a sort of childish grin he couldn't hold back from rumbling in his chest. He hadn't felt this comfortable in a long time.

You disappeared out of sight. He heard water running splash and he figured you were cleaning yourself. Carmen wondered if he would get to fill you up again—preferably sometime soon.

You returned with a damp washcloth, your feet padding softly against the floor as you approached him. Carm couldn't help but smile endearingly as he went to move to free up space for you, but you placed a soft hand on his thigh as if telling him to lie still instead.

"Oh—" he began when he noticed the washcloth, but to his surprise you wrapped your lips around his cock, earning a strangled moan from him. Your warm tongue licked him clean and you hollowed your cheeks around him as if vacuuming his mess.

The pleasure turned into a ticklish feeling and he felt like grinning and kicking his feet suddenly. You looked up through your lashes, and he felt as if his eyes had remolded into heart shapes.

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with such tooth-rotting affection it made him wonder if he loved you. In this situation, it felt natural to say to you—it felt easy and welcome, right on the tip of his tongue.

You offered him an enchanting smile and took his large hand to your mouth, kissing his knuckles, then began cleaning his cock with the washcloth.

Carmen's head dropped back at your touch and he exhaled deeply.

A smile danced across his face and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand; the one you had kissed.

What am I going to do with you?

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— happy home day + eijirou kirishima.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — exactly one a year after adopting from the pound, kirishima plans a special surprise for you, his special little puppy hybrid, on their birthday.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, smut, fluff, hybrids, lingerie, collars, creampies, dumbification, possessiveness, pet-names, body-worship, orgasm-denial, dom-sub, unprotected sex, praise!kink, daddy!kink, breeding!kink, afab!reader, puppy hybrid!reader, pro hero + owner!kirishima.

⭑ words — 4.3K.

⭑ notes — hi !!! i wanted to post something so had you guys vote on what you wanted to see next. the winner ended up being kirishima <3! this was a birthday fic commissioned by my baby @eijirhoe ( who has given me permission to post ) and was beta read by the lovely @vagabondings!! i hope you enjoy !! kiss kiss - m.list ✩

“for fucks sake, kirishima, that is not a fuckin’ guard dog.” 

only katsuki bakugou could be this miserable in an adoption centre for adorable hybrids— kittens, bunnies, mice and puppies alike. the redhead gives the employee standing nearby an apologetic mix between a smile and a grimace, the poor thing shaking in their boots at the proximity of the dynamight.

“katsuki, don’t yell. you’ll scare the ‘lil thing,” he pouts, sticking his fingers through the wire bars on the cage— coaxing the little hybrid inside closer. “and i thought you said german shepherds made great guards!” kirishima wiggles his digits again, pursing his lips to make those kissy sounds that are usually used to call to cats and crouches down to the height of the enclosure. 

bakugou smacks him upside the head but takes a stance beside his rioting hero friend before signing dejectedly. “wrong sound idiot, you’re meant to whistle,” the two strong, and surely intimidating men spare a glance at the cowering hybrid as katsuki whistles in an attempt to gain some trust. “and they usually do, but this one looks like they might shit themselves if someone looks at them funny. not a guard dog.”  

“but bakugou—“ 

“i hate to interrupt, mister riot. mister dynamight.” the employee from earlier steps in, steeling her nerves as she gestures to the cage the puppy hybrid is in. “but if this one doesn’t get adopted soon, i’m afraid they’re going to be put down. we don’t have the space for slightly quieter and apprehensive hybrids like them, no one really wants them if they’re not overly friendly or energetic and…if they do it’s usually for the like…” 

“hybrid farms,” bakugou finishes for the kid, his voice thick with disgust. “just shut one of those down the other day. awful fuckin’ places.” 

kirishima pouts again, peering into your cage— noting the gloss in your big pretty eyes and how you shrink in on yourself, tail pinned to the ground without the happy swish to it that other puppy hybrids in the centre have. “so…” he can’t imagine what you’ve been through, what you’ve seen to have ended up here. “if they don’t get adopted today, they’ll be put down? isn’t there any other way? that hardly seems fair.”

“to us it’s a little more humane than ending up at a hybrid farm or those indecent love hotels exclusively for sex with hybrids…” the employee trails off again, nervously fidgeting with their fingers. in the distance, a bell chimes with the notification of more customers— a mother and her child, probably looking to adopt one of the younger, nosier hybrids for their family. “if you’ll excuse me…” 

“i’ll take ‘em!” red riot blurts without even thinking, the employee not having taken two steps away from him and his angry blonde friend who looks at him like he’s gone bat-shit crazy. “this is their only chance, right? i have to do something, they don’t deserve to go out like this.” the blonde closes his mouth, holding his protests thoughtfully. 

he’s right. kirishima is right, his kind soul always is. “ai’ght, fine. but don’t expect me to train that thing, they ain’t nowhere near close t’bein’ a guard dog.” bakugou grunts, folding his arms across his broad chest with a faux look of dismay— not admitting how impressed he is with eijirou. 

eijirou kirishima has a heart of gold, he’s always been like that— putting others before himself because he believes in them. he takes in strays, builds up their strength and their confidence, letting them know that he’ll always be the sturdy figure they can fall back on in times of need. katsuki was one of those strays, an unwanted dog just like you. he’d bared his fangs to the sweet redhead in fear of letting in someone that would hurt him, but as it turns out, becoming friends with someone as selfless as kirishima was just what katsuki needed.

the employee sighs, shoulders sagging with relief as they glance between the two pro heroes. “should i be getting the adoption papers then?”

with an enthusiastic nod, red riot peers back at you with affectionate eyes and a smile you can trust— one that only widens when you bump your head against his fingers over the bars of your pen and let the tips of them just brush your lush puppy dog ears. “yes please,” he says warmly, his gaze never leaving you. “don’t you worry about a thing little one, it’s you and me now, got it?” 

and for the first time in forever, your tail wags happily, and you don’t feel worried at all.

being adopted by eijirou kirishima most probably saved your life. 

he’d been eager to get you out of that shelter, with the promise of a better life written against his lips and lost under his tongue as he babbled about your new home and how excited he was to have a puppy hybrid of his own. a timid, sweet faced and jumpy german-shepherd hybrid nothing like their breed— with big eyes, a set of pointed and twitchy puppy dog ears and a tail that stays pinned to the ground with nervousness. there’s a lot for him to undo, a lot of trust to build up.

kirishima was patient when introducing you to his home that only big time pro hero money could buy— he let you sniff out the place, scenting areas that made you feel safe even having his comforting, large presence right beside you was enough to make your ears perk up and heightened senses go wild. he let you pick out the biggest spare room in the house and had even felt sad for you when you stated that you’d never had your own before. 

“with me, i’ll make sure you have everything you want ‘n more, kay pup? things will never go back to the way they were for you.” the red head swore to you, crossing his heart — that was the first time you’d ever felt love like that. 

the two of you quickly fall into an easy routine; kirishima would leave for work in the mornings after making sure he’d set out the perfect meal a growing pup, like you, would need— using all sorts of kibble that his explosive friend katsuki had recommended. occasionally he’d spoil you with pieces of turkey bacon that he knew you weren’t allowed to have, but what was the harm in spoiling someone who hadn’t experienced luxury before? plus he liked the way your German shepherd tail would wag and your pupils would dilate at the sight of the meaty meal. 

eijirou made sure you had all the toys possible to play with while he was away for work— you didn’t like sitters and nearly chewed out the last one katsuki had recommended for a nervous puppy such as yourself. you didn’t like her scent and how it had gotten all over your owner. you preferred to be alone, surrounded by the pinewood and musky husk the redhead would leave behind. and, by the time he came home from being red riot, you’d be sitting right by the door with big bambi eyes to welcome him home, the little bell on your store-bought collar jingling as you rush to meet kirishima at eight pm sharp each day.

though you’re pampered with treats and pretty things and ear scratches 24/7– kirishima does have you trained by that awful bakugou. you’re by no means a guard dog, despite what your hybrid breed might indicate— but you’re disciplined with house rules and how to sit and act properly. bakugou is mean and he snarls at you from time to time, but the praise and kisses you get from your darling and sweet red haired owner make the training completely worth it. 

nowadays, katsuki doesn’t even question when you scamper onto the couch or perch yourself on eijirou’s lap whenever they have their boys nights to watch the hero rankings live. “pampered fuckin’ pooch,” is all he grunts from over his can of beer. 

“hey,” eijirou will huff, his hands on the fat of your waist or twirling through your fluffy brown and black tail. “don’t be mean, katsuki. they don’t know any better.” 

even with all that house training— you still sneak into his bed when being on your own gets too much. his warmth calms you, and eijirou doesn’t seem to mind the brush of your thick and soft tail against his thighs in the morning. “pup, you’re not s’pposed to be on the bed,” he’d tried to scold you the first time it happened, he really did, but your ears lay flat against your skull and you gave him those eyes and kirishima was quick to dive in next to you— asking you what was wrong. “nightmares huh? of the pound? well, those can’t be very nice. maybe you should share a bed with me tonight. one night won’t hurt, will it?” 

except one night, becomes every single night.

repeatedly, each night, eijirou scoops you up into his flexing, toned arms and carries you to his room instead of your own— tucks you under his weighted duvets not yours, and swamps you with his body heat. he runs like a furnace during the later hours, not that you mind, it’s nice to be close to him. to feel adored like that.

yourself and kirishima are touchier than most hybrid-owner pairs, you’ve noticed. bakugou thinks it’s because you have a clingy-attachment style, the red head because you’ve been deprived of the affection that most pups deserve. he goes beyond headpats and chin scratches, and the ones that itch right behind your floppy fluffy ears. kirishima keeps a hand on the slope of your waist when he takes you for walks on sunny days, he holds your hand instead of your leash most of the time and his lips linger against your forehead a little longer than normal for a hybrid that’s just a housepet. 

you think it’s normal at least, you’ve never been cared for like this and having eijirou’s attention some, if not all, of the time feels like a dream come true. you know that he loves you when actions of endearment become more passionate— when innocent cheek kisses become sloppier lip-locks and when hugs turn into desperate attempts to grab at your flesh, also when your heat cycles become less about finding a mate and more about begging kirishima to ravage  you against the nearest surface, soothing the instinctual ache in your bones and lower tummy. 

he loved you, and you loved him— and you knew that you owed it all to kirishima for the better life he gave you. taking a chance on a shy little puppy hybrid at risk of being put down.

taking a chance on you.

“angel, ‘m home!”

the rustling of brown paper bags, heavy foot-steps and keys jingling in the front door make your puppy dog ears twitch and you perk up from your place deeper in the house at the sound of kirishima coming home from a long day’s work. you scramble up to meet him half-way into the kitchen, tail swishing a mile a minute behind you, nose wriggling in anticipation. “e-eji!” you breathe, fingers itching to reach out and touch him. “you’re back!”

you’re so cute, so loyal that it warms the pro hero right down to his core. kirishima nods once, giving you the go ahead to latch onto him since you’d waited so patiently and lets out a small chuckle as you tuck yourself into his side. “i always come back, don’t i?” setting the bags on the marble island, he frees up a hand to brush over your head softly, using a knuckle to rub behind your ear. “have you been good, baby?” moving to cup your cheeks next, he presses a gentle smooch to the tip of your nose. “‘course you have, you’re always good f’me…but, i gotta know— did ya miss me?”

“i always miss you,” you say a little too quickly, nuzzling into the palm of red riot’s large hand, tail wagging even faster. “can i…can i have a kiss, eiji? please.”

for a moment, a primal look flashes through the hero’s eyes before being replaced with something softer, something that mirrors the smile he gives you. “only ‘cause you asked so nicely, baby,” he says playfully, sliding his hands from your face down to your waist and tugging you nice and close, your hips flush against one another. “c’mere puppy, gimme some sugar, hm?” your body can’t help but bristle, keening into kirishima’s touch as he subtly lowers his voice and guides you into following his command.

you stand on your tiptoes without even realising it, tilting your head upwards as kirishima coaxes your mouth open with his mellow moving tongue—sighing sweetly against your lips until he’s captured them properly in a slow kiss, not giving you too much but pouring enough words into it to let you know how much he cares for you. he pulls away so things don’t too heated, but still keeps his hands on you before you can whine in protest. 

“what’s that?” you ask softly, cocking your head to the side when you notice the bags behind him.

“oh those? well,” kirishima swoops down to your height, nipping your nose with pointed teeth— only serving to make it scrunch up adorably. “i heard it was a certain pup’s birthday today…and it also happens to be the one year anniversary of their adoption. so i got ‘em a lil’ somethin’ to celebrate.”

he lives for the way you smile, almost dies at how your eyes sparkle. “c-can i open it eji?”

“not all of it, pumpkin,” eijirou briefly lets you go and you really do whimper this time, knowing better than to claw at him to stay when you know he’ll be right back. the burly redhead turns to grab a perfectly wrapped package from within the brown paper bag and passes it to you with an eager grin. “go put this on f’me, will you baby? then meet me in the living room once you’re done, for the rest of your present, kay?”

“okay! i’ll be quick!” you practically squeal, vibrating in your place.

“good pup, i’ll be waitin’,” he turns you around with a grip that's barely there, handling you as if you’ll break with too much force and patting you on the bum softly as you go. 

by the time you return to the living room, it’s been completely transformed. 

the lighting is dimmed, a ruby glow filtering through and the soft hum of your favourite song reverberates against the walls and high ceilings. kirishima seems to be fixing a box on the coffee table by the couch before he notices you, a slick and sexy grin tugging at the corners of his lips as you approach him. “there’s my pretty puppy,” he rasps lowly, sending a shiver from the tips of your ears right down to your toes. “god, i think i made the right choice pickin’ that cute lil’ number out for ya, looks so good on you, hun.”

heat pulses under your skin like buzzing kinetic energy, making you tuck the swell of your cheek into your shoulder bashfully, fluffy ears flattening against your skull. “you think so?” said number is a darling little babydoll dress, made of black silk and red lace lace accents that tickle the backs of your thighs with hearts embroidered at the chest.

“it looks perfect on you baby, you’re breathtakin’,” kirishima tells you earnestly, holding his hand out for you to hold— which you take shyly. “c’mere, twirl f’me? wanna see all of you. show off for me, cutie.” every single one of his compliments has your tail swaying from side to side and blood rushing to your brain, making you dizzier than the cute little spins you do for him while the pro hero sinks into the couch to watch you.

he leans back, thighs spreading wide— and you have to fight the urge to drop your gaze between them. “that’s it pretty thing, my puppy’s such a fuckin’ stunner.” kirishima swallows thickly, ruby glossed eyes darkening with desire. “come t’daddy pup, wanna give you your other gift.” 

you quickly shift to stand between his spread legs, quivering like you’re cold has large and rough hands swallow your waist and bunch your night dress up at your hips. he presses sloppy kisses to the softness of your tummy over the material. 

“sit.” he commands simply, tugging on your hips to pull you down with him

“yes daddy,” your breathing is ragged as you sink into kirishima’s lap, thighs apart so that you can straddle him properly.  you wonder if he can hear your heart racing from its place in your chest— your heightened hybrid senses can already pick up on his, kirishima’s pulse sky-rocketing now that you’re on top of him. “c-can i have my gift now?”

his calloused hand pushes the black silk up and over the curve of your ass, red riot digging into the fat of it to rock you back and forth over is hardening girth. “r’member your manners, puppy. yer s’pposed to ask daddy nicely.” nonetheless, he relents and snatches up the box on the coffee table— handing it to you to unravel. “open it up, baby.”

excitedly, you tear through the daintily wrapped package, revealing a red patent leather collar—decorated with red and black bows, and a heart shaped tag with the letters ‘EK’ inscribed into it. collaring was a big deal in the hybrid community, it meant a permanent mark, belonging to someone, being in love.

“let me put it on you,” eijirou simpers, readily slipping the leather around your neck and sliding two fingers underneath it to tug your lips up to his. “i love you, pup.” he confesses, licking into your mouth hungrily and grinding up into your dripping heat.

it’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten and so fast, dumbly following him to the forest fire of lust, sucking on his tongue like a parched puppy lapping at the first drink it can get. hybrids slick up faster when aroused and kirishima turns you on like no other— somehow finding your panty covered clit between your salacious bump and grind. 

slumping against his beefy chest, your nails dig deep into his shoulders and whistle tone dog squeaks bubble up on the swell of your lips each time eijirou swipes the pad of his thumb over your swelling pleasures nub, encouraging your juices to gush over his hard on—glueing you both together by strings your arousal.

“i love you too…p-please e-eiji!” the air in the room feels heavier, tainted with the lust that clouds your logical thought. in fact, you can’t even think right with the way your owner toys with you.  he drools against your puppy tongue, curses into your heated mouth all while you’re riding his fingers like your life depends on it, kirishima pinching at your sticky clit just to hear more of your needy whines. “p-please daddy,”

the hand that once sat lightly against your neck now trails over each dip and curve of your body, barely brushing over your nipples or digging into the meat of your ass and thighs. “you look so fuckin’ good in the things i buy you, hun, drive me fuckin’ insane,” kirishima fights back a moan, cock twitching against your ass, desperate to be inside of you. “so beautiful in that lil’ dress, with my name around your neck. fuck… ‘m so lucky. my pup, daddy’s sexy fuckin’ puppy.” he rambles and praises you all at once, giving you whiplash, making you clench and ooze sweetly around nothing.

you’re sure that the redhead is almost as brainless and as fucked out as you are just from dry humping his darling little pup… but through his own grunts and groans, hips wildly bucking up to meet yours— kirishima still manages to dominate you, make you feel like you don’t even have to think around him. “you want me, pup, is that it? want me to fuck you?” he hums huskily against the shell of your ear, pinging your collar against your neck when you nod your head yes wordlessly. “gotta—fuck— gotta use your words f’daddy, c’mon now, you know that.”

“y-yes daddy, want you. badly.” you slur, and suddenly, your world tilts on its axis. your back hits the sofa with a bounce and you're pinned against it by the weight of your owner above you, your knees being pushed into your shoulders.

“a-always such a good…obedient lil thing f’me,” eijirou groans at the sight of you beneath him. “so perfect, ‘m so lucky t’have such a beautiful puppy all to myself, shit!” your silk baby doll gathers at your hips, soaked panties tucked to the side and your glistening, pulsing mound on display like an attraction made just for him. he wastes no time in yanking down his sweats and boxers in one go— revealing his bright red and angry dick, covered in a thick layer of gooey white precum. all for you. kirishima slaps the length of himself against your slit once, twice before his forehead falls against yours. 

“p-put it in eiji, c-can’t wait daddy…”

even though your cute little sex makes him a wreck, eijirou still manages to hold control over you— teasing you as he forces his fat tip past your tiny, creamy entrance. “so impatient, cutie, i should make you say please… but fuck, i need you so bad right now. might not last long…”

the pair of you let out strained moans as kirishima pushes in and he reaches the hilt—your sweaty bodies flush against one another, both of you covered in layers of each other’s arousal. your pussy flutters at being filled up so fast, clinging onto the pretty blue veins that spiral around his chubby, swollen cock— a low whine rumbles in your chest as the redhead sets a rough stream to his thrusts, milky cockhead brushing against each pulse point on your sensitive walls. 

it’s almost like you’re being knotted, squelching as kirishima tries to pull out of your snug sex that grips him selfishly. all the while, he pounds you to hell and back. you're so full, you’re a slobbering mess already teetering on the edge of insanity. red riot leans over you, washboard abs pressed against the backs of your thighs to force you down into the creaky couch— each time he withdraws from your messy and wet walls, your ears fall back and your tail thumps hard against the cushions, coated in your viscous nectar.

“fuck, this puppycunt sounds so dirty, gorgeous…feels like fuckin’ heaven,” he whispers to you, words damp on your cupid’s bow. “my perfect puppy, a dumb lil’doggy on my cock…s’such a fuckin’ dream.” your brain empties, becomes a void that’s filled with only eijirou kirishima and the way he fucks you deep, hits every spot, touches your body like a man worshipping a higher power. “‘m so lucky baby, really am.”

your collar jingles, the pendant with his name on it bouncing every time kirishima’s cock bullies its way into your gooey insides until they give into him. you’re the lucky one, you think— lucky to be loved like this, to have been rescued from the pound and pinned down on a dick that aches to be inside you, wrapping around his pulsing length to the point where you’re practically milking him already.

“d-daddy!” you hiccup, big fat tears clumping in your lashes, your face a beautiful mess to the man above you. “i can’t…”

the pro hero reaches down between your bodies, close to cumming just from listening to you howl over the sounds of skin slapping on skin, and tugs at your soft slick tail—stroking it until your pussy quivers and gushes around him, painting your babydoll dress and his half rolled down sweats with a fresh wave of your essence. every time he pets the fluffy appendage, you get wetter and wetter, tighter and tighter and your moans loud enough to wake the neighbours. 

heavy hips rock into you, even heavier balls clap creamily against your fleshy ass and kirishima lets his head drop to your neck—biting and sucking possessively at exposed skin just above where your collar lies. “yes you fuckin’ can, your daddy’s good pup right?” he slurs hungrily, writing his claim against your throat. “when you get close, hold it f’daddy, be obedient ‘n you’ll get your reward.”

you feel like everything’s on fire, every nerve ending in your body buzzing with anticipation— the knot in your stomach seconds away from unwinding. “b-but daddy—!”

“hold it.” eijirou warns sternly, though his breath stutters— every instinct that he has threatening to breed you up full with a load of his hot cum. “h-hold it, hon,” you sob at the pain and pleasure of holding off, thighs twitching, tail hitting the couch hard and puppy ears flopping over your face. you’re so adorable like this, jolting up the piece of furniture as the redhead languidly canters into you. he finally breaks when you let out a weak cry of his name, his first spurts of cum pouring into you. “f-fuck, let go for me puppy, make a mess on daddy’s cock—shit, thats it. so good, all over me, wanna see you cummin’ with me…”

white hot ropes of seed paint your insides just as your eyes roll back into your skull. he feels so warm, coating your insides with a layer of his cum as if to claim you from the inside out. there’s so much of it that oozes out of your entrance thickly, like a running tap of honey  that ruins your pussy lips with opaque white—triggering your own orgasm. kirishima holds you close, whispers sweet nothings into your ear as your release crashes over you, rocking your world while your juices splatter out against his pelvis and all over your cute little gown in clear streams.

“happy birthday, beautiful,” the redhead mumbles to you sweetly, kissing his initials on your pendant and right up to your lips. “i love you.”

“t-thank you eiji,” you whisper back— a sleepy, full and content puppy. “i love you too.”

[janeyseymour]

Won't You Be... My Neighbor?- pt 1

@schemmentis threw out the idea of a reversal of LTN, so... here it is. I hope it delivers.

WC: ~3.3k

When Melissa Schemmenti had said “for better or for worse, til death do us part,” she had wholeheartedly meant it and believed it. She had seen the way that her parents had fallen out of love and divorced, and she swore that she would learn from their mistakes and find a real and true love- that she would fight for her love and her life, and that she would never end up the bitter divorcée like her mother, cursing the father of her child in front of said child. 

But here she was doing everything she promised herself she wouldn’t and packing her bags along with her son’s after she caught Joe in bed with his babysitter. And then he had the audacity to tell her that they needed to divorce- that he was in love with Alyssa and couldn’t keep this charade going.

“Fuckin’ asshole,” Melissa grumbles as she hold her son on her hip. “Sleeping with the nanny… fuckin’ babysitter fucker.”

“Momma.”

“I’m sorry Joey,” the redhead mumbles as she presses a kiss to the little boy’s head. She curses the day she let her idiot of a husband convince her to name their son after him. “I’m sorry… Momma’s just… mad.”

“Really mad?” the newly four year old asks.

Melissa just nods once before continuing to pack their bags.

“Momma?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re getting out of here,” the teacher sighs. “Daddy decided that we aren’t good enough for him anymore, and you know what? We’re better than him… so we’re leaving, and we’re goin’ to be real happy.”

The last thing that she packs before they leave for the night is the divorce papers. She shows up at Kristen Marie’s doorstep praying that her sister will be kind enough to let the two Schemmenti’s stay on her couch.

“Melissa? Joey?”

“Please don’t say his name,” Melissa groans as she rubs at her temple with the hand not holding her four year old. “I- I can’t right now without wanting to take my bat to that rat bastard’s car.”

“Rat bastard?” Joey echoes through a yawn. He reaches over for his aunt.

“Don’t repeat what Momma just said,” the blonde Schemmenti sister sighs as she takes the little boy into her arms. “What happened, Mel?”

“Asshole slept with the nanny, and then even after I forgave him for the sake of our son handed me divorce papers at dinner,” the redhead huffs. “Can we crash here on the couch for the night? If I have to look at him one more time tonight…”

“Stay as long as you need,” Kristen tells her sister as she roams further into her townhouse. “And you damn well know I ain’t letting you sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly good guest room.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Melissa sighs softly. “Thank you.”

That was three months ago. In those three months, Joe had promised to give Melissa absolute hell when it came to the divorce and settling everything, claiming that Joe Jr. needed to be with his father. The redhead was adamant that their son, who she now called strictly “JJ”, would be staying with her. This divorce was getting intense and messy, and everything that the second grade teacher had hoped it wouldn’t be- but when there’s a small child involved, of course it would get messy.

In those three months though, the Schemmenti sisters had used their powers of knowing many different guys who were able to help throw together a decently sized apartment for cheap, and she was able to get a steal in terms of rent.

The two had just finished setting up JJ’s bedroom when Kristen Marie finally called it a day. And that leaves Melissa and her son. Her son who is absolutely starving and exhausted and not yet used to this new place that he was supposed to call home.

“Love,” the redhead sighs as she tries to soothe his wailing. The second grade teacher is positive that this place had thin walls, and her neighbors are going to hate her if he continued to cry like this.

“I want to go home!” JJ cries into his mother’s shoulder.

Melissa lets out a shaky breath. “This is home now.”

“No!” his little balled up fist collides with his mother’s shoulder blade. It takes everything in the redhead to not groan out in pain.

“JJ,” Melissa warns. “We do not hit Momma.”

“I don’t care!” he shouts as he does it again.

“Joseph Alexander,” the mother says sternly. She hates that her son shares a first name with his father, even more so now that they’re in the midst of a dirvorce.

The redhead closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Maybe we need to go on a walk. What do you think? I think that sounds like a great idea,” she thinks aloud. The woman knows that walking around with him while humming softly is almost a sure fire way to get him to fall asleep and stay asleep for at least thirty minutes while she makes dinner, and it has been the perfect way to lull him to sleep since he was born.

She steps out into the hallway and begins to bounce him gently as she walks up and down the hallway, mindlessly singing her favorite tunes softly. When she starts to sing “You Are My Sunshine” though, something else takes over in her body, and she can’t help the tears that form in her eyes. They fall down her cheeks so delicately, and with her son in her arms, she is unable wipe them away. There’s something different about the song now that her marriage had turned into a failed one, and Joe is truly trying to take her little boy, her sunshine, away.

And that’s when you just so happen to be making your way out of your own apartment from down the hall. You immediately hear the soft and sad tune that you’ve had memorized since you were little, and your gaze follows the voice. Your eyes land on a stunning redhead that you’ve never seen before who is holding a now sleeping little boy- and then you see that her eyes are sparkling with tears. Deciding not to overstep and say anything when it looks like this woman is clearly in distress, you simply wave at her gently with an encouraging smile before heading for the elevator.

Once Melissa is sure that JJ is out for at least a little bit, she heads back into the apartment and sets him on the couch. The mother drapes a blanket over her dozing son before pressing a soft kiss to his chubby little cheek and making her way into the kitchen.

It’s much later when you return back from the gym and freshen up in the shower. As you go to sit on the couch with a glass of wine to unwind for the night, you frown. Maybe you should check on that neighbor of yours. You’re familiar with everyone else who lives on your floor, so you know which door to knock on in order to find that beautiful emerald-eyed woman from earlier in the evening with a second glass of wine in hand to offer to the woman that you don’t know the name of.

Inside the apartment, Melissa is sitting on her new couch with a bowl of popcorn and a rather heavy pour of red wine as she watches her reality television show that she hasn’t had time to watch in the midst of the move. 

Your knock startles her. It’s loud enough to get her attention, and she grabs the bat that sits next to her for protection. She approaches the door with her bat in hand.

“Who is it?” the redhead yells just loud enough for you to hear, but not loud enough to wake the little boy in the other room.

“You the woman that just moved in?” you call back.

“What’s it to you?!” she asks, and her grip on the bat just gets tighter, although she knows it’s probably nothing worth worrying about. Your voice was light and sweet, even at the volume you were using.

“Saw you had a kid. Was wondering if you needed help with anything. You looked real stressed.”

At that, she opens the door just a crack, and she recognizes you as the woman she saw a few hours earlier. Her bat lowers, and she opens it a bit more.

“The help would’ve been nice while I was moving in,” she retorts.

“Trust me, if I were around this last week, I would’ve offered to help,” you sigh softly. “Away for work… but it’s nice to meet you now.” You offer her the glass of rosé wine that you had brought from down the hall.

“I’m already ahead of you there,” she sighs with a bitter chuckle. “Thank you though.”

“Yeah,” you laugh softly as you tuck a hair behind your ear. Now that you can see her up close and personal, you see that she really is stunning- beautiful red hair, sparkling jade colored eyes, straight teeth, and you would be lying if you hadn’t stolen a glance at her figure. “I thought it might be a nice way to introduce myself and welcome you to the second floor. If I- If I had anything for your little boy, I would’ve brought it over too, but I wasn’t aware that the new neighbor had a little boy.”

She purses her lips. “You don’t gotta act like you care about the new neighbors.”

“I don’t,” you give her that. “But I always go out of my way to try to make the newbies feel welcome- especially when I see that the new neighbor is upset in the hallway with her little boy on my way to the gym.”

That gets Melissa’s false bravado to break just slightly. “Sorry if that disturbed you. It’s the only way I can get him to go down for a nap when he’s like this- all riled up from the move.” 

You just raise a hand and shake your head gently. “No need to apologize. Your singing is a lot less disturbing than the sex I can hear my other neighbors having.”

The redhead can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous comment you just made. “I more meant his crying.”

“Little kids cry- my sister’s kid cries all the time. I’m used to it,” you chuckle softly. “Now seriously, do you need anything? How can I help?”

“I think I’m okay,” she tells you. “But I do appreciate the check in… Sorry I approached the door with a bat.”

You wave a hand in dismissal. “I get it. Being in West Philly by yourself as a woman can be scary- I have to admit I would’ve done the same thing.”

She just smirks at you.

“Well,” you sigh. “Have a good rest of your night, neighbor. Welcome to the second floor.”

You turn on your heel and start to head back down to your own apartment when her voice stops you. “Wait!” You turn back to face her. “I- I never got your name.”

“Y/N,” you smile at her.

“M- Melissa,” is all the redhead can stammer out as she takes a moment to memorize the name to the face. “And my son is JJ.”

“Well, it was really nice to meet you, Melissa. If you need me, I’m just two doors down at 208. Don’t be a stranger,” you wink at her before heading back into your own apartment.

The redhead stands there for a second, not quite knowing how to feel about you. You’re odd- the only Philadelphian who has given her the time of day, and then you wink at her? It’s different, and entirely the opposite of how most Philadelphians are, and somehow, she’s intrigued by you.

It’s the next day when you’re heading back from work that you stop at the Target on your way home to pick up groceries. When you pass the children’s section, you pause before turning your cart down that way. You throw a thing of Play-doh in before continuing down. If you run into Melissa today, you’ll give it to her for her son.

You do end up running into her as she’s trying to unlock her door. She has her son on her hip again, but she’s on the phone this time. She’s shouting into the phone as you pass her with the bags you’ve brought up. You dig through your bags before you hand her the little container filled with the clay for JJ, and she gives you an odd look. You just nod and smile before making your way into your apartment and unloading your groceries. 

When there’s a knock on your door, you jump just slightly as you pull the handmade pizza out of the oven. You set the dinner on the stove before making your way over to the front door. You glance out of your peephole, and there is Melissa with JJ on her hip and giggling with glee as he plays with the Playdoh you bought for him.

“Hey,” you open the door with a smile.

“We thought we would just stop by and say thank you,” the woman bounces the little boy on her hip gently. He giggles, but his eyes don’t leave his hands. “JJ, say thank you to Miss Y/N.”

“Thank you!” he grins as his eyes finally leave the dough in his hands.

Your smile only gets softer as you see how adorable the little guy is. “You’re so welcome. I’m glad you like it!”

“Like it?! I love it!” JJ squeals and kicks his legs with glee. “It’s my favorite color too! How did you know I loved blue?!”

“Thank you,” Melissa tells you gently. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t have to,” you shrug. “But I wanted to.”

The emerald-eyed woman doesn’t quite know what else to say, so there’s a bit of an awkward silence that washes over the two of you.

“Would you two like to come in for dinner? I made homemade pizza,” you offer, hoping to cut the tension and perhaps get to spend a bit of time with your new neighbors from down the hall.

“Pizza?!” JJ’s eyes light up at the word.

Melissa looks down at her son. “Baby, I thought you wanted pasta.”

“But Momma, pizza!” he shouts with enthusiasm.

Green eyes meet yours, as if she’s trying to find whatever game your playing. But you look genuine with your invite. “Are you sure we wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Positive,” you tell her softly. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

Dinner is nice. Melissa is guarded at first, but her walls slowly come down as she truly sees that you have no malicious intention inviting her and her son in. JJ adores you immediately, telling his mother that he’s never had such good pizza. She has to admit too, your pizza is one of the best she’s had. She doesn’t know that your cousin owns a shop down the street, and you’ve tweaked his recipe to be better than the pies he sells.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you chuckle softly as you start to clean up the meal. Then you glance to his mother. “Care for another glass of wine?”

“As much as I would love to,” she sighs. “I’ve gotta get my little man to get bed.”

“Ah, yes,” you smile. “I totally understand. Well, thanks for coming over.”

“Thank you for having us,” the redhead says genuinely as she wipes the four year old’s face clean of the sauce that’s spread all over. She wipes his hands, and then holds out her own for him to take.

He doesn’t take her hand though, and he instead runs over to you and hugs your leg. Your hand immediately goes to his back and pats it gently with the softest smile on your face.

“Thank you, Miss Y/N.” JJ looks up with you, and his eyes sparkle the way his mother’s do.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you tell him gently, voice warm and smooth like butter. You crouch down to his height and hug him properly.

Melissa watches the two of you with a bit of a twinkle in her eye. She’s in awe of how well you handle him. You’re definitely younger than her, but you have such a way with JJ- maybe it’s because you have a niece or a nephew, she remembers.

You give him one last gentle squeeze before letting him go. “I think your momma’s waitin’ for you, hun.”

He giggles before running over to the redhead and lifting his arms up with a soft request for, “Uppy.” Of course, the mother settles him on her hip with ease, and she tosses a thank you over her shoulder as she makes her way towards your front door. Something stops her though, and she turns back around into the kitchen where you’re washing dishes.

“If you want, you can pop over any time after 7:30 for a glass of wine,” she tells you. “JJ will be down for the night by then.”

“I’ll see you at eight,” you tell her softly, and you wink at her again. 

As Melissa tucks her son in for the night, she can’t help but wonder if you’ll show. There’s a big part of her that hopes that you’ll make your way down the hall, although she can’t quite place why she’s taken such an interest in you. She indeed has taken up an interest in you- you’re meek and mild, a sweet lady who has nothing but the best intentions from what she can see (and that’s quite hard for her to not be pessimistic about you, but you’ve managed to make her believe that you might just be good at the root of it all). You’re completely the opposite of her ex-husband and entirely not her type.

And at eight o’clock sharp, you show up at her door, a bottle of wine in hand.

“Hey,” you sigh softly when she opens the door for you. “I brought wine.”

“Wine’s on me, hun,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “You make dinner on a night where I really didn’t want to cook, so I provide the drinks after. What do you like?”

You shrug. “I’ll drink whatever.”

She pours a glass of red- and while you aren’t necessarily a fan of any type of red blend, you take it and sip on it. It tastes much better when it comes from someone as beautiful as her. 

“So,” you start as you settle on her couch. “Do you wanna talk about that rather heated phone call I caught you in the middle of earlier today?”

She closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath.

“Hey,” you say gently, and you reach a hand out to lay over hers. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, we don’t gotta.”

“Shit soon-to-be ex-husband,” is all she says, and you immediately understand. The frown that washes over your face is one that you can’t hide.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her immediately.

She shrugs. “Caught him fucking the babysitter. He handed me the divorce papers three months ago, and now I’m in a damn custody battle over my son… like hell is he going to get JJ.”

“Custody battle?”

“Yeah,” the redhead groans. “And my lawyer is taking his sweet ol’ time, so right now, I’m shit out of luck.”

“I- I may be able to help you with that one,” you tell her. Her brows raise, and that’s when you reveal what you do for a profession. “I’m a lawyer… specifically in family court.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

[msgexymunson]

Forbidden Fruit Part 5

Description: the situation has come to a head, and you prepare to run off into the sunset with Eddie. But, will you be able to come back? 

A/N: so, this 'one shot' turned into a 5 part freakin' torrid romance! Thank you guys for the support! This is the final part, I hope you enjoy it. Remember, I live for your reblogs and comments, I need them like Tinkerbell needs claps. 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Minors DNI this ain't for you! Dom Eddie, Fem reader, age gap, reader 21 Eddie early 40s, fingering, p in v unprotected sex (that's how you make babies) anal (that's NOT how you make babies), eloping, spit play, like one spank, parental confrontations, angst with happy ending.

7.5k words

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Is this even happening right now? 

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the figure in front of you. He looks frantic, eyes wide and a little wild, hairs flying free from the low bun on his head. The mark your father gifted him has blossomed on his eye; it's a little swollen, glowing with a flesh flower of purple and yellow.

"How did you even get in-" 

"Oh, your Dad forgot he gave me a spare key. I saw your mom leave. I've been waiting for days, your house has been like fuckin' Alcatraz." 

You nod, fully aware of how crazy it's gotten.

"Eddie… Vegas?" You say, reaching for his face with a soft touch. Wincing, he holds your hand with his, enveloping it as he brushes his lips against your fingers sending a shiver up your spine. 

"Listen. The weekend we had, all I could think was that I wanted it to be real. Every time I heard Mr and Mrs Munson, it fucking hurt." He looks away briefly; it's like this is difficult to admit. You wait patiently, hand still in his. 

"I- I love you sweetheart." Gaze back on yours, his eyes are soft and glassy. 

"I love you too, so much. But Eddie, you still haven't said. Vegas?" Prompting again, your heart in your throat, airway constricted with feelings. You know what he's saying, but you want him to say it. You need him to say it. 

"I wanna marry you sweetheart. I want… no, I need to wake up with you every day, in my arms. If you'll have me?" Large hands find your waist, holding you in front of him as you look into his bourbon whiskey eyes. 

"Yes. I'll have you." Grinning like an idiot, you wrap your arms around his neck, the gesture so natural and right it brings tears to your eyes. The kiss you share is soft, but brief. 

"As much as I want to just hold you right now, we need to go, in case you're widowed before we even get hitched." He's chuckling, but the edge of nerves is prominent in his voice. 

"OK, gimme like five minutes." 

Never has a duffel bag been filled so fast. Clothes, underwear, shoes, toothbrush; you're not even sure what you've packed, but the bag is full, so that will have to do. Eddie grabs the bag as if it's weightless and throws it on his shoulder, ushering you out with his hand on the small of your back. 

"Wait, I need to leave a note at least, otherwise he might call the police or something."

He might anyway, he's lost it. 

You scribble down that you've gone on a trip and you'll be back, so you can all talk about this like adults. That last part is underlined. Signing your name, you both hustle out of your house and into Eddie's waiting truck. 

As he drives away, the magnitude of what you're doing truly hits you. Is this what you want? You and Eddie, Mr and Mrs Munson, until death do you part? 

You steal a glance at Eddie whilst he's driving. His strong jaw, the spackling of day old stubble, his serious concentration face he wears when he's driving. Any doubts you have melt, disintegrating into those beautiful eyes. He's the one. He's always been the one. 

********************

Sunlight is dwindling, fading over the horizon slowly as you pull into a motel car park for the night. The room is… well, it's there. A bed and a bathroom, fitted with outdated decor that would look more at home in the 70's, including the lumpy mattress. It will do for now, merely a pit stop on the road. 

Flumping down onto the ancient mattress, a dust cloud fluffing up, you stretch your arms towards Eddie, making grabby hands at him. 

He laughs, dumping your bags before dramatically falling on top of you with all his weight. 

"Eddie, I'm dying…" you croak out in a feigned weak voice, shutting your eyes and allowing your tongue to loll out of your mouth. 

The drama is short lived however, as he runs the tip of his tongue over yours. 

"Eddie!" You admonish, "I'm trying to die here, stop making it sexy!" 

"Sweetheart, I can't help what turns you on." Smirking, he lands sloppy kisses on your mouth, all wet spit and smacking noises. 

"Baby, you animal, can we eat first?" 

"I was planning to." The kisses turn sultry, lips and nips trace up to your earlobe, sucking the skin in the way he knows you love. 

"Eddie…" a warning tone, but there's an obvious lack of bite. 

"OK, food. Gotcha." He's off you then, bouncing to his feet, leaving you breathing hard and heavy on the bed. 

Eddie knows. The grin he's wearing is sinful, but for once he doesn't tease you. All he does is grab leaflets for nearby places and gets you to choose. Settling on a nearby pizza place, a gentle kiss is perched on your forehead as he leaves to get your order. 

The grime that had gathered on you for the last few days is getting to you, so you take a long shower whilst he's gone. At the very least, the showers are hot. Basking under the steaming water, you rinse the dirt away and grab a less than fluffy towel from the rack, drying off. 

You slip on the silk robe you managed to bring and sit cross legged on the bed just in time to see Eddie hustle through the door. 

Eddie makes it inside, shutting the door behind him, moving with purpose. Until he sees you, that is. He staggers back dramatically then, as if he's about to faint. 

"Sweetheart, you expect me to eat whilst you're in that robe? How can I concentrate on food with you looking hotter than sin?" 

You smirk, tying it tighter around your body, perky nipples creating peaks in the fabric. 

"Give me my pizza and then you can have what you want." 

"Oh… might have to hold you to that" He smirks, passing you the take out boxes. 

You both sit and eat, drinking a couple of beers between you. The pizza is soon demolished and you lie back in lumpy pillows, sated and content. 

"So…do I get my dessert now? Please?" 

Eddie's raking over your form with hungry eyes, mentally stripping you bare of clothes with just one heated glance. A nod and he's on you, sucking a bruise so hard in your neck you fear it might be permanent. 

As he starts to run his tongue down your throat, you push him off with a little force that shocks him completely. 

"What's wrong? You OK?" He asks as he pulls away, deeply concerned by your actions. 

"We're getting married right? I forgot, I need something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue!" 

"Really?" He chuckles, looking at your panicked eyes, "right now?" 

"Yes! I mean, it's bad luck, isn't it? What if we get there and I don't have them, or what if-" 

"Stop. Just breathe sweetheart." His soulful eyes drill into yours, finding the calm and bringing it to the surface. You take a deep breath and squeeze his hands with yours. 

"OK. I mean, I've got something old, my birthstone ring, had it for as long as I can remember." As you speak you flash your hand at him, indicating the tiny band with the small sparkling stone set in it. 

Eddie plants a kiss over the top of it, setting your insides on fire. 

"Right, one down. As for something borrowed, you can always borrow this." 

He takes a small unassuming ring off his finger. It doesn't sit well with the rest, tarnished and old looking; what looks like a mood stone is set in the centre. Wordlessly he hands it to you. 

Turning it over in your hands, you look up at him with glistening eyes. 

"It was my moms." 

"It's really pretty." 

"So was she." 

Seems that's all the information he's willing to give. You try it on a couple of fingers before you settle on your thumb. 

"Hmm, tiny hands" He laughs, rubbing your palms with his thumbs. 

"So, what about-" 

"Listen. I was gonna wait for this, but if you need this now…" 

He gets up, striding toward his abandoned leather jacket and fishes around for a moment. Then, he's back, a small black ring box in his hand. 

"I was gonna do this in Vegas but-" 

Flipping it open, you see a dainty ring inside. A beautifully cut diamond nestled in the centre, surrounded by what appears to be a ring of rubies, set in a thin white gold band. 

"Eddie, what the- when?" You ask, a lump forming in your throat, constricting it with emotion. 

"The day after my little confession. It was wild I know, I thought I might have a chance to talk to you, talk to your dad, but he lost it and I… I panicked." He shrugs, like buying some expensive engagement ring is normal behaviour. 

"Eddie…" words escape you momentarily as you stare dumbfounded at Eddie. 

"Do you like it?" 

"Do I like it? It's like you pulled it out of my brain, it's gorgeous!" 

Eddie grins massively, slipping the ring out of the box and sliding it gently onto your ring finger. Surprisingly, it fits. Turning your hand this way and that, you watch the stones glimmer in the lamp light. Words cannot express the feelings churning through you as you watch the light refract from the diamond. 

"Eddie its too much-" 

"Nope. Not having it. It's for you, if anything it's not enough. You deserve, like- a herd of ponies and a private island or something." 

You laugh loudly, sheer joy overrunning all senses as you stare at the ring.

"So, you wanna tell me what this is really about sweetheart?" 

"Huh?" You tear your eyes away from the sparkling rock and look him in the eyes. 

"Come here." He says, patting his thigh. 

You swing your legs over him, thighs sitting side saddle against his muscular jean clad legs. Immediately he grabs the back of your neck, his other hand stroking at the inside of your knee. Face forced to look at him, you can't escape the serious look in his eye. 

He continues, "what is this about? You having doubts about this, 'bout us?" 

Shock widens your eyes. 

"No! Not at all, it's just… well it's silly." 

His look softens as he begins to stroke your inner thigh. "No it isn't, not if you're worried. What is it?" 

His hands are all consuming, filling your senses with nothing but his touch. 

"It's just… I'm a student. I'm not earning any money. And after that, I've got more training so I can be a teacher. I don't want you to have to… I dunno, provide for me I suppose." Your eyes dip downwards, almost ashamed of your own deepest thoughts. 

"Hey. Look at me, my good girl." 

Your body won't let you disobey the command in his voice, no matter how soft it is. Your eyes flash up to meet his in an instant. 

"I want this. I want you, and everything that means." His hand on your leg traces higher, whispering over the soft skin and dipping unseen, but not unfelt, underneath your robe. 

"I know you're still getting your qualifications and that's fine. I've got a big house sweetheart, two cars, hell I own the mechanic shop outright. I've got more money than I know what to do with." 

His hand trails even higher, rough fingertips grazing your slit making you gasp. Running his fingers up and down your folds gently, gathering seeping wetness, he continues. 

"The only thing I'm missing- is you. I can't stop thinking about you being mine, my partner, my wife. I'll pay for your schooling if I have to, I don't care. I need you in my life." 

"Eddie… I don't know what to say. Do- do you mean it?" You ask, eyes glossing over. 

"Sweetheart, I've never been more serious in all my life." 

His middle finger breaches your entrance then, just enough for you to feel it and start clenching. It's toying with you almost, just up to the first knuckle. 

"So, you still want me, sweetheart?" 

"O-oh of course- oh fuck!" 

He plunges two thick fingers deep inside you suddenly, pulling a needy howl from you at the unexpected pressure. Plunging them in and out of your wet heat he continues to hold your neck in place, keeping you staring at him. 

"Keep looking at me. I need to see you come. Can you do that? Can you come for me sweetheart?" 

You whine in response, a shake working its way over your skin and outstretching into the air around you, the room practically humming in anticipation. 

"I asked a question…" his voice is lilting, as if amused. His fingers keep his persistent drilling into your soaked cunt, the squelching noise echoing through the trashy room. 

"Y-yes Eddie" you respond, a whisper, a shadow of a promise. 

"That's my girl." 

The relentless pounding of his digits into your sodden pussy continue, unrelenting. You wail, convulsing almost, your slick heat contracting around his fingers hard as a ring of your creamy wetness circles them. 

Pressure mounts in your abdomen, the force pressing on your belly in waves. Eyes flutter shut briefly until Eddie's grasp on the back of your neck borders pain. They snap back open. 

"Eyes on me sweetheart." 

His gaze on you is unwavering, staring straight at you and into your soul. 

"You gonna come for me my girl? My beautiful, dirty girl? You look so pretty when you come." 

His words push you over the edge, striking straight at your cunt. You fall apart on his command, the magnitude of your release shaking your limbs. You're only dimly aware of the impossibly loud squelching sound that keeps going as he works you through your orgasm. 

As the stars start finally clearing from your vision you stare back at him gormlessly. 

Eddie finally removes his fingers from your core and shows his shining hand to you. 

"Soaked me sweetheart. Pretty sure you've ruined my jeans." 

Swinging your legs away from his lap you see the full extent of your release. The dark patch on his jeans is surprisingly large, absolutely drenched with your cum. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry-" 

"Don't apologise. That's hot as hell. Now, take my pants off for me sweetheart." 

Quirking an eyebrow at his request, you still oblige, unhooking the belt and shimmying his jeans off of his taut frame. You notice, with a flash of embarrassment, that your release has even soaked through to his boxers, leaving a damp patch on one side. Removing those too and flinging them away, you gawp at his rock hard length. Every time you see it, you think it's not going to fit, even though you have literal evidence to the contrary. 

"What now, Mr Munson?" You jokingly ask, mischief lacing your words. 

"Hmmm" He hums deeply, eyes impossibly dark, "so polite. I want you to ride me a little. I want to see that sexy body of yours bouncing in my lap. Think you can do that for me sweetheart?" 

You're nodding enthusiastically before you realise, slipping your silk robe off to join his bundle of clothes. 

Straddling him, you tease him just a little, your soaking lips dragging across his hardened length. Almost expecting him to admonish you for your bating movements, you stare into his eyes. Oh, he just looks amused, lips pulled into a playful half smirk. A look you have seen before, many times, which makes you realise that you were really in for it. 

Petulantly you tug at the hem off his shirt and give him a childish pout. "Off." 

"As you wish." The grin remains as he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it into the void. 

Stunned by his body for a second, you run your fingertips over muscles, tattoos and chest hairs, feeling him tighten under your ministrations. 

Enough teasing, you need him now. 

Holding his throbbing member with one hand, you line him up and slowly sink down until you're sitting flush on his lap. A mutual groan flies out of both of your lips; the feeling of him filling you completely, unsure where one ends and the other begins, is simply otherworldly. If you could bottle it you could make a fucking fortune. 

Eddie's hands grasp you firmly by the hips, dragging you forcibly up and down his staggering length. You do your best to keep up, using your thighs and your hands on his chest as leverage, but he is relentless today. Before you realise it, your head is lolling to one side, bones in your neck a distant memory. You can't think, only feel. 

Eddie knows. 

"Aw, sweetheart, fucked dumb already huh?" He asks, mocking words dripping from his tongue like bitter sweet honey. 

"I- I can't" are the only words you can manage, his unbroken pounding into you filling your entire being. 

"Shouldn't tease me so much then," he half laughs, and sits up, climbing to his knees to flip you backwards onto the bed. His arm hooks underneath your knee to bring it close to your chest as his powerful thrusts continue. 

"Holy shit, Eddie!" You squeal, cunt clamping around him hard. 

"My sweetheart gonna come again? That's it baby," his words are soft, juxtaposed against his ruthless drives into your sodden heat. 

You clench even harder if that were possible, fingers winding into his hair and pulling hard. Eddie grunts in satisfaction at the gesture as he bites his lip. His pleasured face pushes you over the edge, falling into the deepest depths of your orgasm, moaning your release to the heavens. 

"What a fucking good girl" He groans, releasing your leg so he can grab both of your hands, holding them above your head as he pumps out his release deep inside. You feel the throb of it which gives you that extra wave of pleasure. 

Lips crash into each other, arms pulling tight, the need to be closer palpable. 

You're kissing, and kissing, until an unexpected ringing brings you both out of your post sex daze. 

Is it the phone in the room? Who knows you're here? Panic sets itself deep behind your eyes. Maybe your parents had tracked you down? 

Eddie must sense your unease as he shushes you gently, planting a soft kiss to your forehead which helps release some of your tension. 

He gets up, pads naked over to the phone and picks it up as you tug the bedsheet around you. 

"Hello?" 

You hear the scratchy sound of a shitty phone line, no real words, just noise. Eddie starts smirking bizarrely, twisting the cord with one finger. 

"Of course. We'll keep it down. Sorry." 

Replacing the receiver with a click his grin spreads further as he looks at you. 

"Reception said they had two noise complaints, and asked us to be a little quieter." 

"Oh my God." Your cheeks flush with heat as you pull the blanket higher up to hide, only your eyes and the top of your head visible. 

"Don't be embarrassed." He says, laughing. 

"Easy for you to say, you're proud of yourself!" 

He pulls the cover down to get at your mouth, kissing you softly, and breathes the words on your cheek. 

"Yeah, maybe a little." 

Giggling, you slap his arm and he pulls you in for a squeeze of a hug, strong arms pinning yours to the side. 

"Hey, I've got a young, hot fiancée, I'm allowed to be a little cocky." 

********************

The first thing you noticed about Vegas was the noise. It was early afternoon but the place was a bustling hive of activity; loud chatting groups of excited tourists mingled with the cries of people pushing pamphlets and coupons into their hands. The dings and crashes and tinny music blaring from casinos, along with the honks of car horns and engines, and the weird and wonderful racket of street performers all blended into an overwhelming cacophony which filled your brain like some sort of drug. You could understand how people could get lost in the pull of it; hours, days passing in a place that never sleeps. 

The hotel you were staying in was at least better than the motel, but it was still a little… odd. Only dumping bags and running you had little time to take in your surroundings, but what you did see made you laugh. There was an actual stuffed tiger in the lobby, along with several pieces of erotic art. The weirdness didn't stop there; the massive mirror over the circular bed in your room piqued your interest, as well as the sparkly wallpaper and fake zebra skins on the floor. Not that any of it mattered. You and Eddie were getting married, and that was at the forefront of your mind the whole time. 

Mr and Mrs Munson. Mr and Mrs Munson. 

Stupid things were making you panic. You needed to practise your new signature. You would have to change your passport. Why your brain was focusing on the craziest things, you had no idea. Chalking it up to pre wedding jitters, you walk arm in arm with your future husband, eyes seeking out the next goal: a wedding dress. 

A glitzy store with full glass frontage and brass fixtures caught your eye, and you stopped to look at the dresses in the window. It wasn't a bridal boutique by any means, but the gowns in the window were more tasteful than any you had walked past in the hour or so you'd been searching. 

"This, this is the place." You halt in front of the shop, squeezing Eddie's hand. 

"OK, let's go." 

"No." You say forcefully, placing your palm on his chest. He looks at you confused, and a little hurt, but doesn't say a word. 

"You can't see it, it's bad luck!" You explain as his features give way to a smile. 

"Fine, you win. I'll find a Chapel. Anything I should know before I do?" He asks, cocking his head with the question.

"Yes. Please, no fat Elvis impersonators. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face." 

"You sure? Don't wanna be married by The King?" 

Your scrunched up face makes Eddie laugh, throwing his head back. "OK, I get that. I'll find somewhere… tasteful. Well, I'll try to." He smirks, placing a card in your hands. 

"What's this?" 

"My credit card. Go nuts sweetheart." 

A lump firms in your throat at the level of trust. Despite that, it just doesn't feel right. 

"Eddie, I can't accept this." 

"You don't have a choice. Just take it, I'll feel better knowing you ain't counting pennies. Honestly, it's cool. This way you can get what you want." 

Shoulders slumping in defeat, you give in, accepting the card and slipping it into your pocket.

"Now, wait for me here. I don't wanna lose you." 

He plants a kiss on your forehead and walks off. 

Inside the shop, you know Eddie giving you his credit card was the right choice. It even smells expensive. The woman waiting for customers greets you with an enormous smile, and you explain what you are looking for. After a little search and a try on, you leave the shop with your dress, new shoes, and even a small veil from another place the store sent out for. You were ready. 

Eddie finds you twenty minutes later, with a love sick grin on his face. 

"I found somewhere, I think you'll like it. So, you find what you need?" 

"Yeah, I'm good" You smile back, handing him his card. 

"You can keep hold of it sweetheart."

"Nooooo" you say with feeling, forcing it into his hand, "that's just fucking dangerous." 

He laughs and takes your hand in his, ushering you into a waiting taxi. 

The cab pulls up to an unassuming building, pastel pink stucco covering the outside, along with a tiny steeple and fake bell. Taking a deep breath, you walk in, Eddie's hand firmly in the small of your back to guide you. At this point, you'd let him guide you anywhere. 

They know you are coming, the smiling ladies at the desk, and one of them leaps up in a cloud of perfume and blonde hair, leading you away immediately. 

"Heard all about you, so lovely to meet you! We've got somewhere for you to change, just come with me!" 

She introduces herself as Brenda, and leads you to a tiny back room with a full length mirror and a clothes rail and insists on helping you with your dress. She's talking a mile a minute, helping you to calm your nerves. 

"Oh he is handsome isn't he! And you are just lovely, I can see why he likes you. And the way he looks at you! Oh it's just so lovely. Let me help you with the zip honey. Oh, aren't you just a vision! Do a twirl, that's it, just perfect! You ready?" 

Am I ready? 

You stare at your reflection; the last time you'll look at yourself single. Butterflies dance in your belly, but searching your feelings you know it's excitement and not nerves. You want this; you can feel deep in your soul that this is the right decision. Staring down at your engagement ring, your birthstone ring, and his mother's ring on your thumb on the other hand, you smile.

"I'm ready." 

With a final spritz of perfume at your retreating back, Brenda waves you off and you walk into the room where you will marry the love of your life. 

The wedding march plays on a creaky organ as you walk down the short aisle. 

As your gaze lands on Eddie, your heart beats in your throat. He's wearing that tailored suit of his, but a white shirt now hugs his torso. No tie, as you could have predicted, but a sprig of cornflowers is tucked into his suit jacket pocket. 

Something blue.

It makes you smile, and cements the fact that this is right. He couldn't have known you'd pick a blue dress for the same reason, but here you were, matching. 

Your beautiful satin gown mirrored the powder blue in the flower, flared slightly at the waist to sit gently on your knee. The tasteful neckline scooped, sitting at your chest with an elegant fold. You had blue paper flowers interwoven in your hair, with a net veil tucked backwards away from your face. 

Your eyes never left him for a second. Vision locked, you stared at him pouring every ounce of your love into your gaze with each step you took towards him. Eddie's eyes seemed glassy. Was he about to cry? The thought made tears of your own well up. 

Reaching the end, you stop and face him. 

"Something blue huh?" You whisper, nodding at his flower accompaniment. 

"Something blue" He smiles, gesturing at your dress. "You look incredible." 

Keening at the praise, you look down for the first time and notice his heavy black biker boots. 

He shuffles uncomfortably in place. 

"I, er, forgot my shoes." 

"It's perfect. Very you." Smiling, you grasp his hand, and nod at the officiary in front of you. 

The officiary goes through the vows, up until it's time for the rings. 

The rings! How could I forget the rings?! 

Eddie's small smile is enough to calm you, as he reaches into his inside pocket and hands you a simple white gold band. He's holding a matching one. 

You flash a warm smile at him, one he reciprocates with a disarming wink. This is the man you fell for; always ready, fixing a situation, making everything OK with just a glance. 

The service ends quickly. They must have a quota to meet or something as before you know it, you are ushered outside and another couple are making their forever I Do's. 

"So, what now, Mr Munson?" You ask, threading your arms around his waist. 

"Hmmm, whatever Mrs Munson wants" He replies, nudging his nose with yours. 

The giggle that bubbles out of your mouth comes unbidden and doesn't seem to want to stop. 

"I think we should drink to our happily ever after, don't you?"  

"OK" he sighs, "one drink. Then, hotel. I wanna consummate this thing right now." 

The giggle turns into belly laughs as you respond, "I bet you do. But first a toast!" 

********************

Well. It turns out, Vegas gives a lot of things to newlyweds. A free steak dinner, some free spins, and free drinks. A lot of free drinks. The afternoon had bled into late evening, and your cheeks hurt from the permanent smile etched on your face.

You both stumble towards the rented room and open it with a key card on the third attempt. Making your way into the room, Eddie stops you in your tracks. 

"No, I gotta do this right" He mutters, as he lifts you up and cradles you in his arms to cross the threshold. 

"Eddie!" You shriek, wiggling in his arms as he lifts you into the room, banging the door shut with his foot. 

Eddie places you less than gracefully on the bed, the mattress wobbling under your weight. He hovers over you, looking distressed for a moment. 

"Fuck" He says, almost defeated, his knee forcing your legs apart.

"What?" 

"I used all my moves on you. Dunno what to do" He huffs into your neck, the hot air making you shiver. 

"You silly bastard" you laugh, grabbing at his arms in a futile attempt to pull him in.

"No, 'sgot to be special!" He whines childishly. 

"Eddie…" you attempt to get his attention, but he continues to look distraught, lips dragging soft and sloppy kisses over your neck. Inhibitions have truly left the building; the alcohol, eloping, and the feel of his hands all over you had you feeling rebellious.

"Well, you can always- stick it in my ass." 

The statement pulls him out of his overcome revelry and lifts his head to gape at you, soft brown eyes trying to judge if you're being serious or not.

"Huh??" 

"Well, you want to. You said it before. It'll… mark the occasion." You smirk at him, lifting your dress over your head and discarding it on one of the garish rugs in the room. 

Pretty underwear displayed, Eddie's eyes rake over your frame. All barely there light blue lace hugs your curves. His gaze covets your physique, roaming up and down your body with reckless abandon. 

"Well, you want to?" You ask, turning around beneath him so that your ass is pointing at him, almost wiggling in anticipation. 

"Ooh you dirty fuckin' girl" He breathes out, quickly freeing himself of his suit jacket and shirt. 

The rough pull of his hands forcing your hips up elicits a squeak from you, and before you know it he's running his tongue across your clothed pussy, dragging it up and up, and over your hole. Whimpering at the new sensation, you find yourself pushing back unconsciously onto his tongue.

"Fuck, my dirty girl. My dirty wife." 

Suddenly he hooks his tongue into the flimsy stripe of your panties, and you feel it against your bare ring. The sensation is new; different but very welcome. Moaning wantonly, your fingers grip onto the bed sheets. 

Eddie wrestles your underwear off you then, roughly working them down your thighs and off. Your bra goes too, flung into the abyss. Manhandling you back into position, your ass unceremoniously up in the air, he massages your cheeks with coarse hands. 

"Legs wider for me, sweetheart." 

You shuffle your knees, starting to feel self conscious in your position, but it's not good enough. 

"I said wider." 

A sharp smack to your ass takes you entirely by surprise, buzzing over your skin. A moan comes out of you at the sensation. 

"I think she likes that!" You can hear the smile in his voice. You move your knees further out to accommodate him. The lack of sound coming from him is making you feel uncomfortable, until you feel a soft kiss, just a simple brush of his lips against the cheek he just struck. 

"So fuckin' beautiful." 

He's licking into you then, tongue breaching your hole as he slips a finger deep into your cunt. 

"Oh fuck, Eddie!" 

It feels so messy, so naughty; the wet noises of Eddie's wiggling tongue, and of his thick finger pulling squelching sounds from deep within are loud and salacious. He hums satisfaction into you, the vibration driving you wild. The need is throbbing from you, your clit twitching at nothing. 

It's almost getting too much to take, his incessant movements making you feral with desires. 

"Eddie, please!" 

You expect teasing from him, a sarcastic comment, a pouting voice, but nothing comes. You just feel the emptiness of his tongue and finger exiting you, leaving you clenching at nothing. Then, the sound of his belt, clear as a bell. There's rustling, and a very quiet 'fuck'. 

"What's wrong Eddie?" You ask, trying to look over your shoulder. 

"Forgot my boots" He laughs, as he frantically tries to rid himself of his pants, boxers and boots in one go. You giggle at his eagerness. 

All laughter stops however when you feel him release a globule of spit directly on your hole. It has you clenching around nothing, thighs clenching at the seediness of it all. 

Then, his arms are on either side of your shoulders as he crowds over you, bare skin sliding on your back, his cock pushed between your legs. Hot breath fans the shell of your ear; his wavy hair tickling your neck. 

"You sure you wanna do this, pretty girl?" 

"Yes, please Eddie." 

He kisses your cheek, then your shoulder, soft, loving kisses that make your insides melt. 

"You tell me if it's too much sweetheart."

Kneeling up, he lines himself up with your hole, spitting down again at where you are so close to being joined, and pushes against you. 

The tip slides in and you gasp. It's not painful as such, just uncomfortable. Eddie's large hand strokes down your back, soothing you. 

"Just relax sweetheart." 

Heeding his words, you breathe through your nose and out through your mouth. 

"Look at you, doing such a good job. I'm gonna go further, OK?" 

"Y-yeah" you manage, the praise fluttering in your tummy. As he softly caresses your back with his hand, he pushes his length into you slowly, until he's fully seated inside. 

"Fuuuck… so tight sweetheart, holy shit." 

His breathing is laboured, both hands now grasping onto your hips for dear life. 

You feel… full. Not unpleasantly so. As you relax around his length, your pussy begins to flutter in the absence of attention. A mixture of your slick and his spit is wetting your thighs, a cooler contrast to the heat throbbing inside you. 

"Eddie, you can move." 

"No I fucking can't" He half laughs, though it sounds slightly strained as he's stroking your skin. 

"Eddie!" 

"OK, OK," he mumbles, pulling out slightly and pushing back in. The feeling is odd, foreign, but with each thrust it pushes the sensations into those of pleasure. You're moaning now, losing yourself in it as pressure mounts in your abdomen. 

"Fuck" Eddie's hips stutter slightly, "forgot about the ceiling mirror." 

He stops for a moment, clearly losing himself in staring at the two of you conjoined in your sinful position. From here, you couldn't see even if you tried, and the heat pooling from you, the pulsating need, is taking over. So, you push back on his cock, moving your own hips back and forth, chasing your release. 

"Holy shit, look at you, think I married a fuckin' porn star, fuck" 

His grip tightens again as he thrusts into you harder, grunting with the effort. 

Your climax is hurtling towards you violently, the force of it shaking you from the inside out. 

"Eddie, Oh I'm gonna- I'm cumming!" 

You explode, liquid fire running in your veins, pulsing out with each roll of Eddie's hips. It doesn't burn, how could it? You're barely there, floating to the heavens on a cloud of ecstasy.

"Sweetheart, gripping me too tight, w-where-" 

"Inside, please baby, cum inside me I wanna feel it!" 

Eddie releases in you with one final powerful thrust. The throb of his orgasm extends your own, wildfire licking at each nerve ending in immeasurable waves. 

Finally, you slump into the mattress, sweating and spent. Eddie flops on top of you, peeling away the hair that had stuck to your neck. 

"You alright there princess?" 

"Yeah" you breathe out, "didn't think it was gonna be that good. I think I left my body for a second there." 

He chuckles, slipping out of you and rolling onto the bed. You lie next to him, snuggled contentedly into his chest. You glance up and see your two bodies entwined, legs wrapped up in each others, fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces. 

"The mirrors a bit creepy." 

"That's a shame, I kinda want one now." 

You giggle, lightly smacking his chest. 

"Pervert." 

"Hmm, now, who was the one who was begging for a dick in the ass?" 

"Eddie!" You shriek, embarrassed. 

"Just saying. We're both perverts. Wanna take a shower, Mrs Munson?" 

"Only if you join me, Mr Munson." 

You feel the smile on his lips as he presses them against your forehead. 

"See? Pervert." 

********************

Your stomach is tied tight into a clump of a knot, stressed strands intermingling and tugging on your organs. You try to breathe, feeling the tension in your head subside slightly, but it's still there. Glancing over at Eddie in the driver's seat he gives you a small smile and a reassuring pat on your knee, rough thumb brushing encouragement. It helps. 

You're parked outside Eddie's house, having driven back after a couple of days of marital bliss, but now the real world is knocking. Eddie had to go back to the shop to check on things, and you need to talk to your parents. 

"You can do it, I know you can" Eddie whispers softly. 

"Yes, I can. Come on." 

Setting your jaw in determination, you reach out for the handle to let yourself out of the truck. 

Both of you stand on the sidewalk, his hand firmly grasped in yours. 

"Are you sure you want me to come with you?" Eddie looks worried, discomfort evident. No surprise considering what happened the last time he saw your dad. 

"Yes, definitely. They need to know we're serious. Let's go." 

He lets you lead the way across the street and outside your parents house. Both cars are in the driveway, a good indication that your mom and dad are both home. Taking one final deep breath, you knock on the door. 

The door opens a crack, and your mom's face appears. Then it's flung open wide crashing in the frame and she's crushing you in a bone crunching embrace. 

"Oh thank God you're safe I was so worried! Honey I'm so sorry, come in, come in!" 

She's dragging you inside and Eddie sheepishly follows just behind you. Her hands are cradling your face, as if she's looking for signs of pain. 

"Mom, I'm OK. I'm great. I'm happy" You reassure her with a tight smile, pulling her hands down to her sides. It's as if she just notices Eddie is there, eyes flitting between you two as you grasp his hand firmly again. For your strength, as well as his. 

"Honey, you know all I want is for you to be happy. If he's the man you want, I'll stand by-" 

Her encouraging words are cut off by the gruff tones of your father from the kitchen.

"Is that her?" He booms, and you jump slightly, trying to will the confidence that you just held back into your spine. 

He appears then, cheeks an angry red, the stern look set into his face slightly marred by the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

"Now Mick, we discussed-"

Your mom begins but he moves her aside to try and step towards you. His eyes quickly move to Eddie but you stand in front of him like a shield. 

"You can get out of my house right now!" 

"Dad, can we just-" 

He points a finger at you, eyes dragging away from Eddie and towards you again. 

"Now you listen here young lady-" 

"No!" 

It comes out loud, louder than you expected it to. Shock emanates from him in waves as he stares at you open mouthed. 

Softer, you continue. 

"No. You listen. You've said enough and you've not let me speak, through any of this." 

Your father attempts to regain composure. The accusing finger is laid to rest, and he nods at you. Taking it as the best sign you can, you finally have your say. 

"I'm not a kid anymore. I'm a woman. I can make my own decisions, and I've decided. I love Eddie. I love him with all my heart. He's the one for me, now and always." 

Eddie doesn't say anything; he's letting you have your moment, so he just places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes. You reach up with your own hand, your left hand, and squeeze right back. Mom's eyes widen when she notices the rings. 

"I want you to accept this, to accept us. This happened, whether you like it or not. Eddie's a good man, you know he is. I love you all. Please don't make me choose between you, because-" biting back tears, you try and stay strong, "because I'll always choose my husband." 

The silence is loaded and deafening. All you can hear is your own heart hammering in your ears. 

Your dad's voice breaks the quiet. It's low, bordering on a whisper. 

"So… this is serious then?" 

You can't help it, a laugh barks out of your chest before you can contain it, the release of emotion allowing a tear to run down your cheek. 

"You could say that." 

"Honey, I- come here." Your father opens his arms to you and you fall into them, tears tumbling freely down your face. He's crying then too, bubbling sobs that he buries into your hair. 

"I'm so sorry honey, so sorry" He blubbering, wet apologies spilling from his mouth like a dam has burst. "You're my little girl, I just w-wanted to p-protect you." 

You shush him, rubbing his back. 

"I know dad, I know." 

He finally releases you from his grip, wiping tears furiously from his face. 

Eddie steps around you, holding his hand out to your father. He takes it in his, and then grasps it with the other as well, holding it firmly as he looks him in the eyes. 

"You love my daughter?" 

"More than anything." Eddie says emphatically. Your dad nods, but doesn't let go. 

"You promise to take care of her, make her happy?" 

It feels like you're saying your vows all over again, only this time it's to become part of the family. 

"I promise Mick. I'd do anything for her." 

Your father pulls him forward suddenly, taking Eddie by surprise. He whispers something in his ear, and envelops him into a crushing embrace. 

You look over to your mom. Tears are cascading down her cheeks and she grabs onto you for dear life. 

"You're married?! I didn't get a chance to buy a hat!" Your laughs and tears intermingle at that, smiling broadly. 

After a few more hugs and tears, you excuse yourself, going upstairs to collect yourself and freshen up. Two minutes later, Eddie's barging in, clearly forgetting how to knock again. Not that you care anymore. You're in each other's arms immediately, his large hand stroking the back of your head. 

"Well, that went better than last time." 

You laugh, nodding agreement. Pulling away to look at him, you can't help but ask. 

"What did my dad whisper to you?" 

He chuckles back and fills you in. 

"Something along the lines of, 'if you break her heart I'll break both your legs.' " 

"Wow, extreme." 

"Fuckin' fair if you ask me sweetheart." 

His lips are on yours, soft plush pillowed against you. 

"I gotta go to the shop, sort some stuff out. Oh, and get a key cut." 

You tilt your head at him. "A key?" 

"For you, for your new home. Our home." 

Your tears brim with tears anew. 

"You want me to move in, what, straightaway?" 

"Hmm lemme think" He says, index finger dramatically tapping his chin. "Hell yes?" 

You don't answer. You don't have to. You just fling yourself into his arms and kiss him over, and over, and over. 

********************

Tag List (Thank you for all of your support it means so much to me)

@hereforshmut @g4ys0n @winchester-angel @eddiemunson95 @corrodedcoffincumslut @shazzie33 @severusswife @daluamaia1 @callsignraver @lightvixxen @newlips @eddiethefreakkmunson @ali-r3n @bebe07011 @roanniom @eddiesprincess86 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @daisyridleyyyy @lolalanaie @dandelionnfluff @latedawnsearlysunsets92 @luv-flor7777 @topaz1983 @pixxie2004 @harmfulb1tch @findmeincorneliastreet @eddies-puppet @fertilitygodkiszka @freshsagegarden @josephquinnsfreckles

[pinyeti]

EPISODE 6: RETURN OF THE JEDI

Is it just me or have they just not explained the Death Star properly?

I cant take Darthy seriously anymore, he’s just a bag of organs 

Whats quirrel doing here

OMG ELEPHANT SNAKE IS BACK

Isnt this that old caterpillar from Alice n wonfderlad

WOW LUKE REALLY SUITED UP FOR HIS MESSAGE- DID HE JUST SELL???? GOLDENFACE AN R2-oh right Hans in the carbon - way to go to the dark side Luke, triangular droid trade YOU ARE YOUR FATHERS SON LUKE 

So much of Star Wars is just running into the problem with a glowstick and hoping it dies

Wow hansolo has been imprisoned, thrown into garbage, tortured, thrown into carbon, imprisoned AGAIN all cuz he has can’t shut my mouth disease

What even is their relationship with Luke btw, are they his adopted fWOAH WOAH WOAH WHEN DID LUKE TURN INTO A MAN??? Last I saw he was a child who couldn’t get a plane out of a lake AND THEY LEFT THE LAST MOVIE WITH ALL OF THTEM BEING TOGETHER wow the text in the beginning is more important than I thought 

No seriously why is Luke dressed like a pastor whats going on

WOAH GOLD BIKINI LIEA - OKAY STORY TIME I USED TO WATCH PRINCESS RAP BATTLES AS A CHILD AND THE ONE I SAW WITH LEIA IN IT SHE SAID “I wore a gold bikini and the whole world lost its shit” ANF NOW I KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS

Ok yoda we get it you’re 900 no ones talking about your wrinkles anyway with pastor Luke in the room, projecting much?

Is yoda suidicdal???

WDYM LUKE IS REaDY???? HE DIDNT DO ANYTHING TO BE READY EXCEPT FLY FACEFIRST INTO A MILITARY BASE HIS TRAINING ARC IS SO SHIT

 Whos the other Skywalker?? lukes not even a Skywalker isnt his name Luke vader where’s skywalkers real son OH darthy’s deadname is skywalker

BABY WONKENOBIII IS BACKCKCKC-OMGWHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WDYM LEIAS LUKES SISTER WDYM HE SUSPECTED THIS AFTER MAKING OUT WITH HER FIFTY BILLION TIMES??? WHAT THE HELL

??? HELLO>>??? WHAT TH EHELL??? WHAT IN THE GAME OF THRONES IS GOING ON??????? How is Leia a princess then?? HahahahaHAHAHA SO YODA KNEW …… ABOUT THEIR LITTLE TRIANGLE

Nice the gang is back together, waiting for chewbakka to be revealed as darthy’s next offspring

YES YES GOLDENFACE GETTING THE RESPECT HE DESEREVEVVES I LOVE GOLDENFACEEE

I cant believe these are the idiots the emperors trying to kill

"yes I could sense you were my brother when my tongue was down your throat"

Oh yes Luke hands himself over- haha darthy sensitive over dead name 

Luke youre so stupid- but since jedis cant die is he gonna go to wherever yoda and obi wan is 

Lando is growing on me, also squid guy

This movie is gonna end with emperor and Luke dead isnt it

Is the emperor a jedi too how else does he have power or something something Sith

Id make a horrible jedi- im made of hatred

Hansolo my pathetic little idiot

I JUST REALIZED WHO LUKE EP6 REMINDS ME OF - TROY BOLTON

IS HE BEGGING DARTHY TO KILL HIM WTF

You’re telling me this big of an empire cant take down 6 idiots lead by a happy go lucky guy, never heard of this before

OHMYGOSSDDHD. LYKE YOU IDIOT NOW HE KNOWS ABOUT LEIA

Hahahah a hand for a HAND- wait what…. Why does he have a robo hand too whats going on 

Luke stop acting like you didnt hear about jedis 5 secs ago

Aw does darthy have a heart among his organs

OHMYGOD DARTHY IS A GOOD GUY????? ????? What A VILLAIN TTURNS GOOD ITS BEEN AGES SINCE I SAW A VILLAIN COME OVER TO THE GOOD SIDE

OMG DARHTY FACE REVEAL

Oh damn hes not as ugly as I thought he’d be

Kinda cute even - bro how did he even get this weak why’s he dying rn 

He has such kind eyes

Yeah ok I am so lost I NEED DARTH VADER BACKSTORY RIGH FUCKIN NOW

Is the empire this easy to penetrate? No but they did it with the power of lOVE and FRIENDSHIP 

Love lando 

YES HAN THATS THE REACTION I HAD AN HOUR AGO ACTUALLY WTF

Yes Luke its so sad your daddy that blew up an entire planet in ONE second without a single thought died IM NOT FORGIVING HIM THIS EASY

No way thats it??? They took down the empire just like that???? What??

Damn no one in this world can dance

OHMYGOD ANAKIN???? HOW CAN HE SEE THEM NOW??? IS IT CUZ HES BETTER AT WEILDING THE FORCE

ok fine anakin is cute

(3/9)

[starryylies]

Hi !!! Idk if you've done this already but can you do my angel boy Gaz and Ghost with a girl who love scary movies ??? I feel like they'd totally have the mentality of "I gotta comfort her when she's scared" but Gaz specifically flinches and I think Si would like "brace" if that makes sense like wincing his eyes. I dunno if you've done something like that but your emo story reminded me of me and it made me so happy I'm a metalhead and I was gonna ask for more but it was already in there and that just mad emy day ilysm already okay bye -🫀

Simon n Gaz watching a horror movie with s/o

HELLOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Again so sorry (I’m sorry for saying sorry sm) but like Omg I love this cuz I love horror smmmm!!! Insidious,suspiria,Bwp, conjuring you name it I love them omgggg.

So thank you so much for the awesome ask and I hope you enjoy it 🩷🩷🩷

Also I used the movies sinister and lights out for the references :))

SIMON-

♰ he thought watching the movie sinister will be fun cuz he thought he could protect you from the jumpscares

♰ he needs to be protected from the damn movie tho (okay this movie is fucked up tho and it’s totally normal to be scared)

♰in the beginning he thought it will be some poorly made movie with shit ass jumpscares but boy was he wrong

♰ when the scene of the family hanging themselves comes on he was taken aback and he lets out an audible wince shutting his eyes

♰ he genuinely finds the movie scary and gory, cannot help but find himself wince and shut his eyes whenever he thinks there will be a jumpscare

♰ as the movie progressed and the other tapes were revealed he just couldn’t take it anymore, his limit broke off when the mowing scene came

♰ but you seemed to be enjoying the movie, anticipating what the next scene will reveal

♰ he shut the tv before he could see further, it was too much for him

♰ “fuckin hell love this movie is a fuckin nightmare” he groans

♰ “noo It’s a well made film :( plus I enjoy a good scare ya know”

♰ god how could you be so chill with it, he can’t tell if he should admire you or keep his distance

♰dw he admires you :)

♰ keeps on ranting about how he’d never do such a stupid fucking thing

♰ says Ellison was a stupid fuckin idiot for getting his family there and curses him for the rest of the day

♰ asks you your opinion on the movie and who you think is recording the tapes

♰ ends up going on the net to see how the movie ends cuz he can’t let it go

♰when he finds out the ending he has an ‘aha’ moment.

♰ tries watching the movie again but ends up stopping in the beginning itself cuz he can’t handle it.

♰ probably doesn’t want kids after this movie

GAZ-

♰ Awh this poor guy just wanted to watch a scary movie with you to hold you when you’re scared but it kinda ends up being the opposite

♰ you both decide on watching lights out (I wanted to pick hereditary or mother but too much cuz I’m writing this at 3am)

♰ see lights out is a Pretty chill film but Diana is creepy as hell and sadly gaz became a victim to Diana’s jumpscares

♰ when she killed the dad gaz visibly flinched like on the edge of the sofa hoping the dad would survive

♰ but boom the bitch killed him :/

♰ felt really bad for the brother (Martin)

♰sympathised with him a lot by saying he’s a good kid and that he’s really strong.

♰ surprised on how you’re not getting scared or anything

♰ thinks that you have watched this film before

♰ gaz got shit scared during the scene where Rebecca and her boyfriend came and Diana creeped around them

♰ the end made him tear up just a lil :(

♰ you ended up comforting him holding him close cuz he felt bad about their mom

♰ thinks it’s adorable how you give lil facts about the movie from time to time though.

♰ cursed Diana for the rest of the day,

♰ if you take any medications, don’t worry you’ll never miss them now cuz gaz will make sure you eat yours on time

♰ keeps the bathroom and living room lights on that night

♰ will search for movies like lights out

♰ will never watch them though

♰ is proud that he got closer to you tho

♰ will definitely hold you the entirety of the movie

♰ will never have a horror movie date again tho

♰ but will watch a horror movie with you if you ask him cuz how can he say no to you :))

[seancekitsch]

Hi if you're open to requests: could you do an Adrian x fem reader with the premise of them having known eachother in highschool and sticking together as ostracized weirdos. Reader leaves evergreen after graduating HS and comes back 10 years later and runs into Adrian. I love your writing and how you characterize Adrian!!

hi hi hi i hope you enjoy this it got away from me and now its a full blown fic

A Homecoming

warnings: best friends to strangers to lovers, gut chase is his own warning, maybe ooc, angry drunk sex, bad speeches, love confessions, angry fluff if that makes sense, happy ending even tho both idiots are in their bag down bad

“How the fuck did Laura meet Gut Chase of all people?” you whisper to yourself as you pick out produce to stock the fridge of your Airbnb. It's a crappy one bedroom house on what was once the nicer side of town, the side with lovely little suburbs away from all of the apartments and trailer parks that people turned their nose up at. You remember those noses turned up at you for your lovely little apartment that you called a childhood home. Now it feels freaky to be on the other side, in a rancher in a suburb with cute little pinterest craft-esque decor on the walls and a Friends reference as the wi-fi password. Fucking yuck.

You never expected to be back in Evergreen after high school, especially not for a wedding. You flew across the country for college to basically avoid this very situation, but here you are. Your college roommate who got a job in Seattle bringing you back to your home town to marry easily the biggest douche from your high school. Your invitation to the fifteen year reunion came in the mail and was thrown directly into the trash several months ago muttering about how they even fucking found your newest address, and then the fuckin save the date from Laura came behind it. You’d known Laura was dating some gym trainer, you knew she said he was from a small town. She’s always been one to fall fast and hard, and you can count on more fingers than you've got the amount of times through college and grad school she had cried over a failed date with “the one” before getting back in the proverbial saddle.

You fondle an onion and think about the last time you saw Gut Chase. It was… the morning after your graduation. The morning you left for Gotham. He was sat at the breakfast bar of their house sipping coffee and raising an eyebrow at you trying to sneak out of his house for once instead of into it. 

Now having taken that trip for the first time in reverse, your long taxi ride from the airport to the airbnb felt like a death march. You’d left behind so much and burned any bridges that could have been left here.

June 2008

“The guys are never going to believe this.”

“Dude, you’re not telling any guys about this,” you laugh, wrapping yourself around Adrian’s torso, the lean muscle taught under his skin as he laughs with you. You weight dips and moves on the trampoline below you, the stupid double wide sleeping bag doing nothing for your back, especially after you’ve been standing in heels all day and sweating in your graduation cap and gown. 

“But then I can finally tell Gut and Chris it’s just that I’m a late bloomer! And if I don’t tell them it was you they won’t believe me!” Adrian exclaims, not at all worried by the open windows of his own house or the other backyards that the dawn is going to slowly creep over. You roll your eyes, your best friend always consumed with impressing his older brother and his friends. 

“That's not a thing. Isn’t it enough that we had this?” you ask, you cheek pressing into his bare chest. His legs tangle in the early summer heat under the cheap sleeping bag.

“No!” He exclaims, laughing like you should be in on it too, but you don’t laugh with him. Your virginity was never important to you, it’s just that everyone else in Evergreen sucks. He’s the only one that you would have deemed worthy anyway. 

You figured: You leave for college tomorrow, he’s the best person you know, and he’s hot even if he doesn’t know it. You’re both virgins- or- you were until you dragged him out into the backyard around two in the morning after passing back and forth a bottle of peach schnapps that he had been arguing about with you all night until he figured out it tasted like candy; the party his older brother hosting in yours and Adrian’s name very quickly became not about you and about him and his friends who had graduated a few years prior. 

Tomorrow you’ll be a month away from being eighteen and across the country by yourself and you haven’t told anyone but your mother, but it hasn’t quite hit you yet. It can’t when a sticky condom was thrown across the yard twenty minutes ago, and That’s Not My Name by the Ting Tings is bass boosted and floating in the air from the house, and Adrian Chase just gave you your first orgasm. 

“Maybe it is,” he admits, his voice now heavy with sleep. You don’t know when he falls asleep, but you leave before he wakes.

Your hand shakes at self check out, wondering if Adrian and his brother patched things up enough to be a groomsman. Laura made you a bridesmaid over FaceTime, talking your ear off about how much Dorian wasn’t her normal type but when you know you know, you know? And even then it never struck you to remember that Gut’s real name is Dorian. Maybe you’d be paired up, and maybe Adrian had changed enough in this span of time to forgive you and look you in the eye. You don’t count on it, honestly, you expect him to throw a fit the second he sees you. You don’t blame him for that hypothetical reaction either. It’s been over a decade with two degrees six terrible boyfriends and only one friend who ever came close to how special Adrian was for you. And now she’s marrying Adrian’s dickhead brother.

Its only a few minutes after you load the dirty old fridge of your airbnb (definitely only getting three stars, the place is sketch) that you phone rings, Laura’s contact illuminating the dull lighting of the kitchen. You put her on facetime while you load the pantry. 

“BITCH!” she screams, her smile illuminating a dim screen as her voice cuts through all of the loud background noise, “Where are you?”

You laugh, tossing the veggie chips into the back of the pantry.

“Where am I?” you scoff, “I’m at my Airbnb, I was about to throw on a bad movie and drink some wine. Where are you, Miss Bride?”

She puts the phone up close to her face, only her eye showing as she fake whispers into the mic.

“I’m at Hooters,” she confides like its the funniest secret.

“Oh, with Mr. Groom?” you ask, teasing her as you reach for the bottle and the corkscrew, one of the few amenities left to you in the drawers. 

“With tha whooooole wedding party,” she draws out the words without taking the phone away from her eye.

“You had their LIT’s, didn't you?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her. 

“And I just bought one for you,” she confirms, “So you better get an uber or I’m going to switch out your bridesmaid dress for an Aquaman costume.”

“You slut!” you shout, swiping up on her call to obey her and pull up uber, “You wouldn't. Aquaman is such a chump.”

“So get over here!” she laughs, and it's infectious. God, you've missed Laura. Sure, you facetime twice a week, but she lived with you for six years and it's like losing a hand to lose her being just a few layers of drywall away at all times. 

“I am, I am! Its ordered,” you assure her, and a comfortable silence settles, she sips her drink, her hand clawlike to hold both hers and yours so she can hold her phone in the other. 

“You know he fucks the fish, right?” you ask.

“You're the second person to say that tonight!”

The uber to Hooters is quick, thank god. The bright lights feeling harsh on your skin and you really wish Laura hadn't threatened you with the costume. It’s manipulation at its finest. You had the most recent kissing booth movie right there ready to be made fun of over your coffee mug full of wine. But no, you have to stand around in a Hooters in your hometown. Youre flooded with relief, however, when you walk past the hostess stand and clock that theres a touchtunes machine in the corner so you can at least entertain yourself with awful song choices. You know who would love hearing the Monster Mash followed by Call Me Maybe? You and Laura. Especially after she tries to pour that LIT down your throat the moment she sees you. 

“There she is!” Laura shouts, helping you tilt back the glass immediately. It's just like college again, your days back in Gotham where you’d wander away from the college bars and see how much liquor you could get for your money. 

“Mm, holy shit,” you cry out, barely able to down the drink in one go, “That's how you snagged your groom?”

She crinkles her nose at you,her blonde hair falling in her face as she leans in close.

“He happened to like my squat thrust, I know I have to work harder than that to win you over,” she quips, and you rub your nose with hers before pushing yourself out of her arms reach. 

“Now where is he? Who are these bridesmaids I’m sharing my spotlight with?” you ask, letting her lead you further in towards the bar. 

Gut Chase himself meets you halfway across the restaurant.

“Y/N!” He shouts, “You’re kidding me! I thought Laura-girl was joking when she said she knew you.”

“Gut!” you shout back, surprising yourself that you're actually sort of happy to see the familiar face. He pulls you under his bicep quickly, ruffling your hair as if you were his little sibling. 

“She was so weird after she got kicked off the cheer squad,” he explains to his fiancee, “She spent all her time in my basement with my little brother! This one lived with us.”

“Oh, Adrian?” she asks hesitantly trying to remember his brother's name , and something weird twinges in your chest.

“Yeah,” you manage to get out, your voice and your breath practically leaving you. 

Is he here? Does he hate you? Does he miss you? The first few years without him were tough, you would turn to tell him something or think of something funny you had to say and it all just had to float into the wind, forgotten. Then Laura sort of filled that gap. Then your D&D group. But the Adrian sized hole can only be squeezed into, never full filled, never a perfect fit. 

“Yo, Adrian!” Gut calls out before you can stop him, “Get your ass over here!”

Gut releases his grip on you and a man across the bar looks up from his phone. 

And it's like time slows down, and as he slides off the barstool “Foxy” by Jimi Hendrix floods the air like that scene in Wayne's World. Its like he moves in slow motion, his sweater doing nothing to obscure his physique and muscles, his glasses doing nothing to hide those beautiful eyes of his. He's changed so much, but not at all, just filled out what was already there. You're not sure if it's the LIT or the sight of him that's making your knees feel like they’re buckling.

“Why is she here?” Adrian asks his brother, his posture straight and tone unreadable, and Gut gives him a warning look. You almost pity Laura that you didn't brief her on on your intimate knowledge of the family she was marrying into.

“Bro…” Gut warns him, less than subtle. You've seen this before, but in high school, Gut would have just hit Adrian already or called him a pussy.

“Hey, uh, Gut? Sorry, Dorian?” he turns his attention to you as you correct yourself, “Why don't you take my dear Laura for another LIT? I could use another one too.”

Laura looks at you like you've got three heads for commanding the situation, but gladly lets her fiance lead her back over to order another, whispering to you that she’ll bring yours on Gut’s tab. 

Adrian stares at you, looking you up and down, sizing you up… not sexually, maybe… maybe? Wouldn't be the worst thing, he’s always been handsome to you, but he's really filled out. 

“Why are you here?” he asks you directly, his knuckles turning white around his beer. 

“I….,” words fail you for a moment, breath hitching in your throat as a million things want to spill from your lips. 

I’m sorry, I’ve always regretted leaving you, I wanted you to come with me, I wish I took you with me, I compared even the stupidest tinder date to you, I want to make you laugh, I loved you since I was a kid, Even Laura doesn’t get me like you do. 

But you don’t say any of that. You can’t. 

“I’m here for the wedding,” you say, holding it all back even though you could collapse into his arms at any moment. 

“Me too,” He says, “Only I’ve been here and who knows where you were.”

Okay; you deserve that snark from him. 

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

An understatement of the century but it’ll do for now. If you say too much, you’ll cry. You cannot cry in a Hooters. 

“Or say goodbye?”

“I know, I’m sorry for that too. I’m sorry for everything.”

Adrian’s arms fall around you, the cold heel of the bottle of the glass digging between your shoulder blades as you lean into the hug against him. It feels like home being in his arms again, only now the arms are filled out with muscle and he

“I’m sorry too,” Adrian offers, but there's no real emotion behind it. You can tell he doesn't really mean it; an empty thing to say just because he thinks he should, but that doesn't bother you.

“There's nothing to be sorry for, “ you console him genuinely, your hand rubbing up against his henley covered bicep. 

“I know, I’m just saying that. I’m not the one who abandoned my best friend. Now I have a new best friend!”

You pull back, not at all upset because you expect that too, and at this moment Laura comes back with your LIT. 

“For courage,” she whispers not at all subtly in your ear before kissing your cheek and running back to her fiance. 

“Why do you need courage?” Adrian asks, not pretending he didn't hear that.

“Cause I never should have left… and you look really good.”

It's definitive, it's out there. You can't and you won't take it back for anything. It's the truth. You love Laura and the fact that you met her but you absolutely should not have left Adrian to do it. 

You take the straw to your mouth and suck, not pulling away from Adrian, instead your hand still around his back clawing into his sweater to keep him there. 

“You look really good too! Pretty, because women don't like being called hot.”

You dont know where he got that from, but you accept the compliment nonetheless. 

“You know, I was really mad at you for like a year, but then I just got over it, I figured you were trying to teach me some weird lesson about missed opportunities or acting out part of some romantic comedy but then you didn't come back and… I’ll shut up now,” he says, misreading your attention on him as a bad thing. 

“I wanted to call you back,” you admit, “But how do I call you and say: Hey, I’m in Gotham now! Even though we were supposed to get dinner tonight I guess I wont be making those plans. I didnt know what to do.”

“I could have come with you!”

You both know thats a fucking lie. 

“I’m glad I got to see you,” you offer, the words so bittersweet on your tongue. His eyes search your face, and you realize then you probably should have re-applied some make up. Its set into your face from the flight this morning and all of the errands you've run. You probably look like some kind of victim. 

"Me too, because honesty I've thought about that night a lot. I've tried to rank where it falls between all the threesomes I've had."

Weird flex, but, okay.

"I do too," you admit as you grab the straw for another sip, "not the threesomes thing, but I think about it... about you."

Something about Adrian's gaze has you open and honest, moreso than you would normally be with a man. But then again, Adrian isn't just some man...

“Finish that,” he tells you, his eyes zeroed in to where your lips and the straw connect. You obey, drinking what you can before putting the glass down on the nearest empty table. 

“Adrian I-” You get cut off by his lips capturing yours; Adrian kisses you with a passion you haven’t felt in fucking years, the passion of someone who actually cared. Sure, you've had boyfriends and girlfriends, but none have kissed you like this. 

Instead of hot and bothered you feel cold… and wet.

“Adrian, what the fuck-?” you whisper when you can break away, something dripping down your leg. His beer spilling as he tilts the bottle carelessly to grip you better. You break away from him to shake the beer off of your jeans, a puddle forming on the ground. He scrambles to right the turned bottle and place it on the same table as your LIT.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m not good at understanding people,” he admits to you as if you didnt spend all of high school attached at the hip, and this time you kiss him, your hands coming up to cup his clean-shaven jawline.

The next thing you know, you're back at your airbnb, having Irish goodbye’d to Laura and Gut and without meeting or talking to the rest of the wedding party. Youre being a bad friend and a bad bridesmaid and you know it. You hadn’t had the chance to ask Adrian why Gut was so friendly to him, though Laura might have a hand in that. You hadn’t had the chance to ask where he worked, what he liked to do, who Adrian now was really. 

 Adrian’s mouth barely leaves yours the second the door is closed, instead backing you quickly into what he correctly guessed is the bedroom of the house. His reflexes are sharp, unlike the awkward teen he was, and he knows how to perfectly steer you to your bed for the next week.

You walk backwards awkwardly until your calves meet the boxspring unceremoniously. He tilts you back until you fall on your own, your elbows catching you as he follows suit and crawls on top of your figure. You don't know where the confidence comes from, but then again it had fifteen years to form in him. Adrian pulls off your shoes and your pants quickly as he moves up the bed, not even trying to hide his prowess, moving like some kind of well trained machine. He’s come to impress even though he's done more than that by simply not snubbing you or telling you off in the middle of a Hooters, although both would have been deserved.

But you; You feel like you're back out on that trampoline again, your graduation dress pushed up around your waist, all too bare under him. No time has passed, it’s all so familiar -

“I should hate you” he states, his lips hovering over your navel, “But it's weird, I don't! In fact, I feel like I should be thanking you. If hadn't left and rejected me so hard I wouldn't have gotten so buff and good looking.”

“You should hate me,” you agree, your breath and your words feeling lost in your chest under the weight of him on top of you. His lips travel from your navel to your ribcage, pushing your shirt up as he goes, leaving a trail of fire in their path. You arch your back into his motions, your hands helping him pull the shirt off, awkwardly shuffling until you can fling it to some random corner of the room. Adrian’s eyes widen when he sees your bralette, mesh and flimsy and hiding nothing from him.

He pulls one of the dark blue mesh cups down, immediately latching his lips around your pert nipple, sucking and earning a sharp inhale of breath from you. He chuckles against your skin at your reaction to him, and then does it again. Cocky asshole. You can't help but compare this to the trampoline. He was so unsure, fumbling and almost tearful at the fear of fucking something up. You led the way, urged him on. Adrian now needs no urging, no guidance in making you squirm beneath him. His lips release your nipple, and he bites down at the top of the swell of your breast, sure to leave a mark. Youll have to remember to put a spoon in the freezer tomorrow morning or else you could end up with a wardrobe malfunction for the wedding. Cocky bastard, you think, leaving his mark on you. 

But really, he’d left so many marks on you that still havent faded. Its the way your ringtone from high school never changed, its the way you bought only the brands of locks Adrian said were best for each apartment you've had, its the way you buy things in teal if theres the option. Your fucking spatula back home is one of his many marks.

“Ah!” you yelp when his bite gets a little too hard, your perfectly manicured fake nails digging into his back. Adrian laughs again and pulls himself up to reach your neck, his hands exploring everywhere they can, teasing at your chest, your waist, your hips. 

“Fuck me,” you plead as his lips connect with the pulsepoint on your throat.

“Youre sure?” He asks, “You know, you shouldn’t fuck someone who should hate you. That's just asking for complications.”

And although he gives you an out, he’s already gone back to kissing and licking at your throat and groping at every curve of your body. You're thinking with your pussy, not your mind right now. You know there should be a conversation instead of whats happening right now. Maybe some tears shed, maybe a nostalgic movie and some honest explanations on your part. 

But you don't initiate any of that.

“Then fuck me like you hate me,” you say instead.

Adrian grinds his jean clad length against your core, and you whine, girlish and high pitched and embarrassing. He shushes you, removing himself from your grasp to yank off his sweater and undershirt, then his jeans all discarded over the edge of the foot of the bed. 

He moves to you, working your panties down your legs until you can kick them off the bed at your ankles, and sheds his boxers with them. His eyes follow the trail of your legs to your center, already dripping and ready for him. 

“You really want that?” he asks, and it sounds rhetorical. You didnt know Adrian could do that. He traces his calloused hands up the insides of your thighs, letting his fingertips tease you where you need him most. You nod fervently, arching your back to try to reach him, bring him closer.

“Please?” you ask, wanton and pathetic under him. He draws his thumb between your folds, testing the metaphorical waters. He draws low, anticipation laced moans from your lips, teasing and slow. 

And then without warning pushes two fingers into you. 

Your gasp echoes against the cliches wall decor, rattling the glass of the live laugh love frame, shaking the flimsy bedframe. 

He does not start slowly, no, he gives you no mercy in his motions, his smirk teasing and taunting you as he thrusts his hand.

“Adrian, I- Fuck!” you struggle to find the words, your hands moving to his forearms and digging your nails in, trying to hold on for dear life. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” he asks. Fuck, you didn’t know Adrian could talk like this. And to think, you could have had this the whole time if you just stayed here. 

“Yeah,” you whine, “Yeah, please.”

You're not sure what youre begging for. To cum? To feel him? You just want more. 

“I’ll give you exactly what you want,” he leans down like he’s going to kiss you, and then instead nips at your lip before pulling back. Its cruel. 

His fingers move in, out, in, out, inout, and then slow to a halt inside you. You squirm under him, needing him to do anything. Anything. 

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he says, and you flush in embarrassment, neediness and heat settling in your chest.

“Adrian, I need you,” Your voice sounds far away, underwater, foreign to your ears. Who is this person? How and when did you ever get this needy, this desperate? His smile grows, but it does not give you any comfort. 

Adrian removes his fingers from you, lifting them up to his nose to smell them.

“Like fucking candy,” he remarks, and pushes his boxers down, easily discarding them. 

He leans back down, his weight on you once more. A weighted blanket, a comfort as his chest presses against yours. You kiss him, the way a smoker needs a cigarette, pulling and all consuming; your hands find purchase in his hair, your body fully reactive to every tiny movement of his lips against yours. His tongue sweeps across your lips, easily parting them the same way he easily parted your legs. He moves against you, rock hard in the crux of your thigh, his big hands holding your hips in place as he finds his way. Adrian probes along, pushing his hips in slow teasing motions until he finds his rightful spot at your center. 

“I’m gonna make you hate me,” he whispers between kisses, and you brace yourself against him, foreheads touching and his glasses fogged. 

He pushes into you with a groan, bottoming out and giving you the grace to adjust before he starts to move.

Adrian’s hips rock you, the whole bed, your whole world, your hands tighten around his curls as they pick up in pace, the rhythm of the bedframe banging against the bed punctuating each of his movements.  He picks up his pace quickly, and you move in time easily, rolling your hips to meet his with each thrust. 

“Fffffuck,” you stutter, losing control of your lips, your tongue, both moving of their own accord and saying shit. There’s a war in your brain, part of you wants to stay in control, wants to make sense of this; the other side wants everything Adrian to overtake everything you. 

“I’m gonna make you hate me,” he repeats, switching up his angle to make your next moan a pitiful squeak in your throat. 

“You,” you gasp again, “You said that.”

His hands roam the geography of your body, mapping each curve and dip of you, not missing a single centimeter. Everything he touches turns to flame, hot under him and hot under his touch, pushing you closer and closer to your boiling point. 

You won't last long, you know that. Adrian moans above you, dragging his lips against the corner of yours as he moves, closer and closer.

And then he pulls out. You whine at the missing contact, the chill that sets in without his heat in your orbit. You pout, lips messy and swollen. 

“Turn over,” he demands, moving his finger in a circle to demonstrate his intention. You obey quickly, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. His hands land first on your ass, smacking both sides of your cheeks and whispering “hell yeah” in a tone you're definitely sure you weren't supposed to hear. His hands then slide from your ass to your hip, then to your back. He unclips your bra and lets the straps fall down your shoulders.

He bends down over you, letting his chest press into your bare back as he presses a kiss to the space where your neck and shoulder meet. 

“Down, girl,” he says, as one of his big hands starts to push your shoulder down until you cave into his movements, folding into the bed until your face hits the pillow.

Fuck, all control of the situation you had, you’ve lost. The ground crumbling out from under you and Adrian can mold and manipulate you any way he wants to, and you want him to. 

His free hand strokes down the curve of your back, and then leaves you, only to position himself back at your entrance. 

“Oh, you look beautiful like this,” Adrian sighs, sounding strained. You've always trusted Adrian to be honest, and you can believe he means it, like he would worship you face down ass up.

He presses his length into you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him, a glacial pace until he’s fully sheathed. 

Adrian wiggles his hips when theyre fully against your ass, and you huff in laughter, giggling into the pillow before he silences you with a rough thrust. 

This new angle feels like the wind has been knocked out of you, but in a way that you want to feel over and over again, in a way that makes you feel breathless and alive. The next thrust and the one after that leave you gasping and struggling for air, the ones after it drawing high pitched whines into the silk of the pillowcases.

He pistons into you quickly after that, like a man with something to prove. He presses his full length into you each time, and each time hitting a spot inside you that has you feeling fuzzy and hot all over. His hand returns to your hip to  guide his motions and yours. 

You chase your high, rocking back into his thrusts and meeting each of them half way. Your moans are swallowed in the silk, wrapped and buried down deep into the mattress, rooted in him and the moment. 

“How am I doing?” he asks, and sensuality gone from his voice, but thats just Adrian.

You moan in response, his fingers digging into your skin, sure to leave crescent moons in your skin that would last far into the morning.

“Close,” you manage to squeak out, your voice barely audible, but Adrian picks up on what you're trying to say. 

“Yeah? You wanna come on my dick?” he asks, but doesn’t give you a choice otherwise. Adrian moves his hand from gripping your hip to between your legs. His fingers circle your clit, just the right amount of pressure to make it feel like you're about to snap. 

“Please,” you whine, arching your back further into the friction.

“Let go, baby, let go,” he coaxes you, his lips against your spine and you finally give in to him. 

He slows and kisses your shoulder while you ride your high, whispering praise against your skin as you shudder beneath him, his whole frame bent over yours. His hand leaves your clit and both come up to hug around your waist, anchoring you to him and the world and bringing you back down. All you can think of is that you could have had this the whole time. Fifteen years of this. 

But then he returns to his former position, the hand on your shoulder returning there as he picks up the pace again. It stings when he starts to move, but not terribly. A soothing burn that you find yourself rocking back into without a second thought. 

“Where can I?” He asks through gritted teeth, lifting his hand off of your shoulder so you can lift your head up. 

“Inside,” you answer, voice still muffled by the pillow, "I'll get plan b, there's always a coupon for that shit."

“Got it,” he confirms, and then speeds up his pace again. This time his hips are messy, without rhythm as his body meets yours, his voice uncontrolled as me moans without restraint. 

Even overstimulated and tired, you rock back in time to meet him, moaning each time his hip bones meet your ass. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna-” he stutters, and pulls back unceremoniously, heat streaming and filling you only seconds later. You shift slowly, trying to get your knees out from under you. 

Adrian stops you though, one of his hands a soothing comfort on your hip to guide you to a comfier position as his other hand dabs a tissue from the bedside on your back. 

He cleans you off remarkably gently, moving over you to throw himself down on the blankets beside you, his head hitting the empty second pillow. Your back feels sticky and cold, but you don't mind at all. You turn your head so at least one one your eyes can peek out at him from where you lay spent and tired, a mess of sweat and spit and butterflies in your stomach. He lays in a similar state, breathing deeply with a lazy smile across his features.

It feels right.

“Stay and cuddle?” you ask, voice wary from use and the need for sleep. You feebly move your hand toward him, reaching out to straighten his glasses.

“Sure,” he says, “But I won't be here when you wake up.”

He puts his big arm across your back, and where you should feel the familiar warmth you only feel ice. 

“Really?” you ask, but fuck, thats a mistake. You shouldn't say anything. It's an instant realization you don't want to hear anything he’s about to say. 

“It’s what we do, right?” Adrian says it like it’s a joke, but there’s venom in his words. It drips through, from his teeth to yours, and sinks in. 

He pulls you close, his actions not matching his words, and snuggles in, his hot breath fanning out against your face. His eyes close and he lets his body relax quickly. You try to do the same, but you end up staring at the ceiling fan, trying to think of any reason why Adrian would actually stay. You don't know when you fall asleep, but it's long after he does. 

True to his word, he’s not in the airbnb when you wake up. Just cold sheets and an empty glass of water and a half eaten green apple on your counter. That's all to signify he was even here, that you and your best friend had a sleepover after fifteen years. No real evidence, no trophy, not even his phone number, not even a cup left in the sink for you to clean when you do the dishes. Even the marks of his nails are fading away into nothing.

You deserve that, you think, all of Adrian’s talk of hate fucking of course wasnt a joke. When had he ever not said what he meant? He’d always told you what was on his mind, no filter and often TMI. But that doesnt stop the tears that fall, the streaking of last night's mascara down your cheekbones and the messy foundation you didn't take off. 

True to your words last night as well, before you even brush your teeth you order a plan b kit from Doordash. Now you wait, and wallow. 

It comes quickly, you take it, you feel no different.

You lay on the couch, the bed feeling weird and wrong now that it's been used and abandoned by Adrian. It's definitely going to be a long week, you think, and you debate trying to contact the airbnb host to see if you can check out early. Maybe you can take a rental car up to that town they shot Twin Peaks in and stay at the hotel or something. 

This was a mistake. All of it. You shouldn't have let Adrian kiss you, you shouldn't have kissed him. You shouldn't have wanted him. You shouldn't still want him. 

Your phone rings. Laura.

“Holy shit,” she sighs, her voice shaking, “Can I ask you the biggest favor?”

You have nothing to lose at this point, besides your comfort in the stilettos she has you wearing for the bridal party.

“Yeah, whats up?”

“I need,” her voice breaks, and you can tell it's serious. 

“Whoa, what do you need? I’ll drop everything,” you interrupt and reassure her, and it's not like you had anything scheduled but self pity until the rehearsal tonight and the dinner at Fennel Fields afterwards. Laura’s not someone you've ever liked to hear or see cry, because she never does so unless she has a good reason. 

“Gina’s plane got delayed,” she explains, “You remember Gina?”

You remember Gina well, Laura’s best friend since diapers, your Adrian basically. She was the maid of honor and you were basically second in command to her. 

“Babe, I know Geen,” You remind her. Gina gave you your first pot brownie.

“Well her plane got delayed and she's stuck in Metropolis on her layover until the morning of the wedding and then she still might miss hair and make up but she's not here for the rehearsal dinner speech and I don't know what to do,” Laura sucks in a desperate breath, “I don't want to cancel the dinner speeches I know Dorian's best man had a plan.”

“You don't have to,” you tell her, “You made me second in command.”

“I know, I need you to write a speech if you can.”

At this point you can tell Laura is crying on the other end of the line. 

“It's done. Don't worry your sexy little face about it,” you comfort her, not really thinking about what you're signing yourself up for but your undying loyalty to her taking over the rational thought in your mind. 

“That doesn't make sense,” her voice is still watery, but you can hear the smile through it.

“Hang up on me and go make out with Gut,” you tell her, “Leave the amateur hour to me.”

And she does just that, whispering her thanks to you as she cuts herself off. 

Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?

This fucking speech, your saving grace of a distraction. Fuck, fuck, fuck what do I say? You think. You wrack your brain on what to say, you practice, you write line after line in green glittery gel pen on a piece of stationary you found in the homes kitchen. You treat it like a stand up set, ‘yes and-ing’ yourself to death to try to think of something that doesn't sound stupid. You've never been in a long term relationship that was ever actually going anywhere. You're so incapable of wording what love is…

No, thats a lie you tell yourself. The words come easily now, the words flow like water from a fountain. 

It's not clear how you're going to go through the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. Knowing Adrian will be in the same proximity as you; Knowing that with Adrian one kiss is too many and a thousand is never enough. You want to bash your head against the wall, but instead you save your airbnb fees and focus on doing your hair and makeup and getting dressed.

You look at the dress you brought for the rehearsal, one of two garment bags hanging on the top of the closet door. Your bridesmaid dress; an olive green, low cut, with a soft flowing skirt. And then the dress for tonight, one that was already in your closet at home from your thrifting as a broke college student; navy vintage polyester taffeta, with an extremely tight square neck bodice and a tea length skirt that puffed out. You had sewn a comically big pink heart with white lace into the bottom of the bodice a week after you had gotten it. Laura came home to you sitting with fabric and thread strewn across the floor of your shared apartment. You knew this dress was a memory between you two, and that's why you picked it for tonight. Putting it on alone is a little difficult, but you manage. The only thing Laura asked out of your comfort zone was that all bridesmaids wore silver stilettos. Fucking evil, but you throw those on the passenger seat of your rental car. 

You crinkle the paper with your speech in your hand as you clutch it against the steering wheel, and pull out of the driveway of the rancher.

The rehearsal goes smoothly, but that wasn't the part you were worried about. You only wrinkled part of your skirt under your sweaty hands but for the most part it was salvageable. You're walking with one of Gut’s coworkers, a nice guy named Mike who has also never been in a wedding before and he’s easy to use as a distraction from those green eyes you can't stand to feel on your skin. Laura is happy and that's what matters. That's what you tell yourself every time your smile falters.

You avoid his eyes at all costs as you enter the back room of Fennel Fields, taking your seat next to Laura’s mother, taking the Maid of Honor seat and looking at the fixed course menu after a polite hello to the woman who helped you find a Gotham apartment without remnants of fear gas in the venting. Adrian sits at the table diagonal from you now, a slight relief from the onslaught of him and everything about him. Your clammy hand reaches for the menu, passing it to the waiter nearby after clarifying that everything looked fine with no substitutions; everyone does the same and you try to keep yourself preoccupied by any means necessary to avoid that gaze. 

Champagne is poured and you want to drink it down, want to take the edge off in any way possible. 

But you don't. You can't. The note in your dress pocket prevents you from doing that. 

Gut’s best man goes first. He gives a lovely speech, you figure. He talks about how Laura and Gut are like puzzle pieces or something and how she’s been such a light in his life. It's odd to think that Gut’s friends know so much of Laura, that she’s become one of their group. Her other bridesmaids are even Gut’s friend’s wives and girlfriends except for you and Gina and one other girl, her coworker at this new job.

 You keep your eyes trained on him, and on Gut and Laura. They look so in love, so genuinely happy. Fuck, its beautiful. 

“So I’ll end this trainwreck on a toast. To the lovely Bride and Groom: may they make their honeymoon flight, and not lose their luggage!”

You laugh, whispering a cheers before tapping your flute on the table and finally sipping champagne yourself.  

Now it's your turn. On unsteady legs, whether from the stilettos Laura has you wearing or your emotional state, you rise from your seat and pull the grossly crumpled piece of paper from your dress pocket. 

The microphone gets passed to you and you steel yourself to do your best stage face and voice. Give them senior year at Gotham University’s production of Miss Julie.

Here goes nothing.

“Hi,” you start, clear and confident, “I’m not Gina. I’m sorry, I wish I was.”

Laura’s mom and a few of the wedding party laugh. You don't look at Adrian.

“And to make matters worse, I’m not even qualified to give this speech.”

You earn another laugh, this time from more people, and Laura snorts and slams her hand down on the table. She can correctly guess how you screamed in your airbnb trying to write this, having watched you struggle through editing stand up sets for years. She knows you probably talked to yourself in the mirror to get this right. 

“I’ve sabotaged my chance at love but these kids? They know what they’re doing.”

What the fuck does that next line say, you sweaty bitch? Why the fuck did you use gel pens for this?

“Before I moved into my studio in Condiment King’s territory—“ you pause for laughter and get some, “— I lived with Laura. And she was good, I guess.”

You stick your tongue out at her, winking. 

“She showed me how to use a hair straightener and how to shotgun a beer, but most importantly she showed me what it looks like to actively be vulnerable and put yourself on the line for love. She faced the dating world before tinder, but she also extended that vulnerability to me. With her making soup for me when I’d had a crappy day, and calling me out when I’d done something wrong to put me back on the right path, she always loved me fully and with care. Not gentleness, though. After a frat formal she threw a glass at me once.”

The room erupted in laughter and Laura looked fake-embarrassed. 

“But I have also had the privilege of knowing the groom. Dorian, or as I know him, Gut Chase, was someone I always knew would make sure I didn’t end up dead in a ditch. I was briefly a cheerleader, he was in football and a few years older, but I had someone close to him that I held dearly and he kept that in mind. I don’t think he liked me much when we were growing up, but he always made sure I had a ride home and a place to stay. I wasn’t allowed to speak to him in public but I wasn’t going to get hurt around him.” 

The room laughed again, although you only focus on the smile of one of the groomsmen who doesn't meet your gaze. You crumple the paper further because you can’t even read it at this point and you don’t remember what it said.

“The point is, I don't need to have some love story of my own to know what care and love look like when it comes to these two. I know I could have had something like this and I'm endlessly jealous of my prettier college roommate. And judging from last night and today I’ve never seen such explicit love between two people, the way they orbit each other and care for the people in their lives. They've found someone who is not only going to be there at night for them when things are fun, but they've found someone who’s going to be there in the morning. And someone they're going to be there in the morning for. Someone that's going to take care of the good and the bad and someone that they're going to show up for in that way, too. It’s fucking beautiful. I’m sorry for cursing. Let’s get hammered.”

You knock back your champagne and remind yourself to call an uber and leave your rental here. Maybe it's heavy handed that you mentioned the morning. But really, had you stayed that morning with Adrian you would have never left. You would have thrown away college had he kissed you again the morning after. People cheer and you scurry to get away from the spotlight, people start to stand from where they were and waiters start to clear plates and people begin to go to the bar. You're one of the first.

You order another glass of champagne. Had Adrian asked, you would have stayed. You know that. You've always known that, and that's exactly why you had to leave before he woke up. Fate is cruel, bringing you back here. 

“Baaabe!” Laura shouts, Gut in tow, and throws her arms around you.

You hug her back with the arm not holding your glass. 

“That was amazing,” she says, and you can only scoff, not willing to take the praise. 

“You did good, Runt,” Gut offers, patting your shoulder with a fond smile on his face. Maybe people can change. 

“Thanks guys,” you sigh, and try to gulp down this next glass as well. 

“Who were you talking about?” Laura asks. 

You choke on your sip.

“Who?”

“In the speech, you said you blew it with someone, who was it?”

Gut’s grip on your shoulder gets a little tighter. 

“Do you want a tequila shot?” you deflect, and never one to turn down a challenge, she accepts. 

You shoot Gut a thankful glance, although he actually didn't do anything. 

The next morning you wake up to your alarm with the slightest headache, two full glasses of water and a bottle of advil on your bedside table that you don't remember placing there but you also don't expect to with all the champagne and tequila going to your head.

It's still forty five minutes before you have to be at the wedding venue but you shower in under ten minutes and call an uber (thankful for your foresight to leave your car last night) the second you're dry. It's a good thing the ride is quick to the venue and they dont mind that you've thrown your bridesmaid dress and shoes and an additional backpack across the back seat. The uber driver is far too loud and friendly for this hour, your headache starting to get stronger even though you took the advil.

Laura’s already there and panicking, her lashes done and her immediately screaming at you to get into the hair chair even though it's technically not correct on her schedule. Janessa should be going first but you don't question a bride thats near tears. You hop in and close your eyes, and combing or prodding is fine with you, as long as you don't have to be standing. 

By the time your hair is done other bridesmaids trickle in, and by the time everyone is done Gina finally is able to make an appearance and you all breathe a sigh of relief at Laura’s worry finally dissolved. You all look nice. Laura looks like a princess. You're not sure if you can get through this wedding without crying like a baby now that you see her all done up. Fuck. She ushers you all out as she stays behind, a smile that finally looks genuine plastered on her face, ready for her first looks with her new husband before the rest of the world gets to see her.

“Thank you,” she whispers one last time to you, and you squeeze her hand before you leave the bridal suite to go line up in preparation for the actual wedding itself.

“— You moron!” 

You catch the end of whatever Gut is whisper-shouting at Adrian in the lobby, handsome in his suit and anxiety painted on his face and seeping from his gritted and bared teeth. 

You walk the rest of the way over after getting down the rest of the stairs, skirt of your dress fluttering as you move, and put your hand on Gut’s arm not unlike the way he did to you last night.

“Hey, whatever's going on, I got it,” you tell him, not looking Adrian’s way still in fear of your own emotional state. You aren't sure why you offered to help at all, but there's no backing out now.

“He wants to switch partners to walk with you, which is stupid and not part of the plan,” Gut explains. What the fuck. Actually what the fuck.

You shake your head, and you bury the pit in your stomach. Your emotions aren't the most important ones today and others are at stake. Fuck it, you’ll take one for the team and maybe cry in the bathroom later and blame it on the alcohol, as long as it doesn't stop you from the cotton eyed joe at the reception.

“Let us switch, your bride is upstairs waiting, we’ll handle shit down here,” you tell him, voice already exasperated, and that seems to light a fire under his ass. He moves to the staircase without another warning and salutes towards you and his little brother.

His little brother whom you still cannot look in the eye.

The rest of the bridal party starts to get themselves together at the disappearance of the groom, and you sort yourself in order. Shoes are good, hair is good, dress is good, you are good to go; and once youre over this hiccup you can party with Laura and the other bridesmaids.

“Look, I’m sorry-” Adrian starts as you link your arm in his own. He looks so fucking good in the suit, so good you need him to shut up before the last of your dignity leaves you. 

“Don't even worry about it,” you say, still not looking at him, “We’re even, remember?”

Adrian seems to deflate at your words, but if you know Adrian you know that doesn't mean he’s given up.

“I’m just saying, you didn't deserve that. I should have stayed.”

You eye up Gina in front of you, her long hair cascading down her back, happily joking with the best man. Mike’s now behind you, with Laura’s work friend. Adrian’s arm feels like a cage around you. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble, trying to focus on how it feels to be hungover in stilettos. Bad, but you can use that pain as a distraction. 

“See, you say that,” you're in for an Adrian rant, and you wish you could appreciate it, “But you won't look at me, and then your speech last night had me thinking, and then you didn't let me talk to you about it after you drank a lot of tequila with my brother and even though I drove you home you wouldnt let me make sure you drank your water.”

He looks at you with expectant eyes, asking you to crack.

He says it so easily, as if his mini rant doesnt throw a spear through the heart of your barely calm and cool persona. As if your blood doesn't run cold knowing Adrian was in the airbnb again, only to care for you and look out for your safety. Adrian is a good guy, and as your pinky toe pinches in the straps of the stiletto while you rock away from him, you regret never calling most of all. Your eyes search his face for an hint of a lie, but you can't find one. So you do what you can, you look away from him.

“I drank the water,” is all you can say, the tip of the iceberg of what you really mean. His free hand squeezes your elbow, an exchange.

The opening chords of the organist strike, and you recoil at the sound, sighing deeply as everyone readies themselves. 

Gina is all you want to focus on, her two braids tied into the curls the stylist sweat over in a half up-do that would rival what the wig makers on Game of Thrones could do. 

“But anyways, I’m trying to apologize.”

You can't even find a bobby pin sticking out on her whole head.

“I don't want an apology.”

You want to run away again. You want to fuck him in the bathroom of this venue. You want to fight him to the death. You want to stain his clean shaven cheek with your lipstick. 

 “Then what do you want? You're torturing me, and I would know, I’ve been tortured. This is like emotional though, not physical.”

Ignore whatever that means. 

“I want to know what you would have done if you didn't leave.”

Fuck, why did you say that? Quick, think about escape routes, find fire exits. Run for Mount Rainier, burn down the airbnb. Goodbye!

“Well, not fucking leave,” he starts, lowering his voice to a whisper when the doors open to reveal all of the guests.

You just tilt your head, yeah, figures. 

“You like everything bagels with chive and onion cream cheese, and I would have gotten you one. They make your breath smell like shit but I would have kissed you anyway just to prove a point.”

That's basically a confession of love right there. 

You and Adrian walk down the aisle, a smile tugging at your lips, but you refuse to let it stick. The venue is beautiful, sage green and pink everywhere, a flower arch out of some perfume commercial and trendy reclaimed wood galore.

“Can we just talk?” he asks, his voice rising and you immediately try to shush him as discreetly as you can. 

“Save a dance for me at the reception,” you whisper to him, preparing yourself to take your place in the line up at the altar.

“But I wanted to talk-”

You shush him again, a little harsher than you mean to, but he seems to get the idea.

“Oh! duh— I didn't bring a date! I don’t have a dance partner to begin with,” he answers, and the smile you’ve been trying to hide breaks through. You squeeze his arm as you leave his embrace and go to stand on your side.

You look out at the crowd, a lot of them unfamiliar faces. A few friends from Laura’s major and their partners, a few cousins and kids you met when you went to her summer house, a few of Gut’s friends on the other side (save for Chris Smith, thank fucking god, you would absolutely not be surviving this if you had to hear him say anything about your tits) and Gut’s cousins from Northern California. You stop for a moment on two empty chairs, for Gut and Adrian’s parents. Suddenly you're sixteen again, watching Adrian push you away for the comfort of shooting ranges instead of talking about his own parents' deaths as a result of a car chase gone wrong. Your eye’s flicker to Adrian, his eyes already set straight on you, his smile not matching how his eyes scan you. Gut enters and practically power walks down the aisle, and you mote that theres already a noticeable amount of lipstick on the corner of his lips. 

The music changes. 

The most beautiful woman you've ever seen walks down the aisle.

You can feel Adrian’s eyes on you the entire ceremony.

Adrian doesn't leave your side the entire cocktail hour, following you around and asking about all of your drink and snack preferences. 

“I like pomegranate martinis, you know, a little Hades and Persephone thing going on?” You joke, and he orders you one from the drink station without a second glance.

“You mean like Hercules, the Disney movie?” he asks when he hands you your glass, hand steady and careful not to spill it.

You could scoff, or make a joke, or correct him, but instead you just smile and say, “Yeah, Adrian!” just to see his smile get even wider. 

“Thats a really good movie, even if its for kids,” he muses.

“So what does Adrian Chase drink?”

He pauses and thinks it over for a minute. 

“Yeungling,” he says, but he doesn't try to hide his grimace at the answer, his teeth bared and his eyes averted.

“So thats a lie,” you point out immediately over the rim of your glass. Adrian’s eyes dart over to where Laura and his brother are talking to some distant relative, definitely from Laura’s side. They're both the happiest you've ever seen them and you can’t help but to thank whatever cosmic power led them to meet. 

“Yeah, Gut says a bay breeze is chick stuff,” Adrian admits, and you figured this was the case. He was always pulling you down candy aisles or getting the really sweet stuff as far as slurpee flavors went. 

“Get the fucking bay breeze,” you tell him, and his whole face lights up. When was the last time this man got himself a girlie tropical drink?

“Okay! I mean, I've gotta hide it, but if you won’t judge me then I’ll do it,” he turns away from you, already ready to get the bartender’s attention again to order.

Theres a million things you want to say and all you can come up with is talking about his drinking habits? You only know where the guy works because you asked one of his cousins why the rehearsal dinner was at Fennell Fields and she told you he basically was allowed to book the back room for free because he worked there. You have so many things to ask him, so many things to say, and you ask him about a fucking drink. 

“You were right, this is way better. You said we could talk now?” he asks, not hiding his eagerness as he talks with the bendy straw still between his teeth. 

You exhale harshly, pushing the air through your nose, nodding. 

“Yeah,” you mumble, not wanting to correct him that the cocktail hour technically isnt the reception. Thats an easy mistake to make, its close enough.

He nods his head towards the back doors, leading out to the gardens that a few people are at, but its much less crowded than the venue proper. At least hes giving you that safety net. 

Each step feels heavier, and you once again curse the fact that Laura is a stilettos girl and made you be the same for a weekend. But the garden is beautiful, it looks like a small town in Washington’s version of the Versailles gardens, which you've never seen outside of Google images so it doesn't matter to miss out on the real thing.

He leads you to a bench, and pats it as he sits down on one end. You sweep the flow skirt under you and sit too, thankful to be off your feet after the past few hours.

"You can take those off if you want," he points his glass at your heels, "We can swap? They don't look comfy."

"We can't swap," you chuckle, but you unbuckle the heels and stretch your feet on the pavement.

“Well, we should talk,” he says, as if prompting you. The whole situation feels like there’s some kind of teleprompter you should be able to read, some magical thing to say, but there’s not. You don’t have words, just feelings. The anxiety, the joy, the ecstasy, the profound sadness and emptiness of the whole thing. There’s no way to put it into words. You don’t know how to word that you’ve forgotten him for maybe only ten of the months you’ve been away. Often wondering with other dates if Adrian was nicer than them, if he was dating. Wondering if Adrian was having a good life, if Adrian made friends. Seldom you forgot about him. And none of it you can voice without sounding worse than you already are.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down into your martini, the last few sips staring back at you. 

“You’ve said that already. Can I talk?” he asks. You nod, still not meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “Like I said before, you didn't deserve that.”

“I kinda did,” you offer, shrugging.

“Will you stop?” he asks, his eyes widening behind his glasses. You only grimace and nod for him to continue. 

“Sorry, anyway, you didn't deserve that. I know you had to have a good reason for leaving without saying anything. And I have to admit, I have kept tabs on you. Not in a creepy way,” he pauses, “Maybe in a creepy way, but not in an illegal way. When the library put up the article about your job in Gotham I took it because that's not real stealing, everything is free in the library.”

That's not how libraries work. You remember that article, you were put on a 30 under 30 article for art and design in Gotham; you just didn't know the article made its way back to Evergreen. It's sweet that he stole the article, even though he could have just bought a copy of the magazine. 

You nod at him, needing him to continue. 

“And then when I saw you it all just kinda, came up, you know?”

You do know. Its that same vacuum that sucked air from your lungs and slowed the time down in that fucking Hooters that now feels so much more meaningful and cosmic instead of being what it is. God, what a place for a reunion. 

“Yeah, I know,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. 

“I didn’t want to be mean, but I felt like I had to, I don’t know why.”

But you know why, you know exactly why.

“No it’s fine, I would have done the same,” you say, the knuckle of your free hand brushing the soft material of his suit pants.

“Yeah. I know,” he laughs, his smile overtaking all of his features. This feels normal, finally. You’re on the same wavelength. 

“And I have to admit, I was a little jealous of Laura for taking my best friend position once I heard about you guys in college.”

You roll your eyes, letting yourself lean into him, his shoulder warm under his shirt. His arms look fucking good, with the crisp white 

“Where’d your suit jacket go?” you ask, lowering your head to rest it against him. 

“Gut’s gonna kill me,” he answers, and you can pretty much assume he’s lost it. 

Laughter escapes your lips, loud and almost cackling, and you sit back up so as to not spill your drink as the laughter keeps coming. Adrian joins in, his eyes closed behind those glasses that haven't changed in the past fifteen years, laughter boisterous and light. 

“Can we start over?” you interrupt your own laughter, setting your glass down on the ground next to the bench. 

Adrian’s laughter subsides, and he goes quiet. He thinks about it for a second. 

“Hmm, no,” he answers. Your hands fall limp in your lap, the skirt of your dress making a light swooshing noise at the contact. He could have punched you just now and it would have been less of a surprise to you. 

“Oh,” you sigh, trying and failing to play it cool. Your shoulders feel heavy. 

“I can’t start over with someone who’s seen my penis… or wore my retainer when she lost hers. Which was really gross,” he laughs, this time a subdued chuckle with a hint of nostalgia, and his eyes travel up and down your body again. You shiver under his gaze. 

“Yeah, that was nasty,” you admit, but your teeth are straight no matter what. 

You both go quiet, staring out at the treeline behind the venue. A cosmic reset. His hand scoots closer to you on the seat of the bench. The wind whistles and Party Rock Anthem is muffled and obscured by the glass doors leading back into the cocktail hour. 

“So your brother and my college roommate, huh?” you break the stillness.

“Yeah, it's uh,” he looks down at his watch, “almost the end of cocktail hour. We get to walk in together, right?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “You made sure of that with the stunt you pulled this morning.”

If he's at all embarrassed, he doesn't show it.

You stand up, rolling your eyes. 

“C’mon,” you say, holding your hand out to him. 

A cosmic restart.

“And here is your wedding party!” the DJ announces over the microphone. The first couple dances out from under the sting light arch, offbeat and singing along. Then the second. After the third it's you and Adrian, and you can feel him starting to get antsy. 

“We’ll be fine,” you reassure him, brushing your knuckles against his. 

“Don’t hate me for this,” he whisper-shouts over the music. 

You don't have time to even think about what that means because the couple in front of you dances out, but now you're anxious and rigid in your heels. You step into the spotlight, and your cue comes.

But Adrian has other plans, apparently, as he bends down to let his big strong arms (wow are you happy he grew these in your absence) circle your thighs and he hoists you over his shoulder. 

You wave awkwardly at all the guests sat for dinner, cackling and slapping Adrian’s back to the beat of the music, Adrians laugh filling your space as he awkwardly dance- walks you across the dance floor to where the other wedding party members are standing and talking, waiting for dinner and the reception to officially begin. You feel giddy, like a late night drive in the summer after Adrian got his license, like when you walked into prom holding Adrian’s hand like you’d just won the lottery. His hands are warm, incredibly so, and his muscles are taut against you.

Fuck, you’d like to feel his muscles against you in - nope, hold that thought. You want to repair whatever this is with Adrian, not be a slut at your friend’s wedding. 

When you finally reach your spot, he holds you there for a few moments, his big hands squeezing the backs of your thighs before he puts you down gently. You miss the feeling of his hands on you. 

Dinner and more speeches go off wonderfully, and you're thankful you get to stay quiet this time, few eyes on you throughout all of the formal stuff, except for Laura. Sure, her main focus are the speakers and her new husband, but you've caught more than one sneaky glance your way, and you know exactly what that means. Before they leave for their honeymoon in Cabo, she's going to corner you and ask if you and her new brother-in-law are doing anything. And knowing her, she’ll already know the answer.

Adrian nudges you when the plates are cleared by the caterers during the first dance, drawing your eyes away from the happy couple dancing to him, apprehension apparent on his face. You realize that you really haven't spoken to him since he put you down.

“Do you want to… maybe, go out there when they’re done being a lovely couple?” he asks. 

“I mean, yeah. I told you to save me a dance,” you respond, and Adrian’s shoulders visibly sag in relief like a weight has just been taken off of them. 

And you're lucky enough that your anxiousness is spared that the next two songs and the family dances go by as quickly as they can, and the dancefloor opens for everyone with Vienna by Billy Joel. You look over to Adrian, winking as you rise from your seat, your hand reaching out to lead him away from the table. 

He, to your surprise, grabs your hand firmly and lets you lead him out, and you become one of the first couples out on the dance floor. People trickle in after, but they're all peripheral noise and shapes as Adrian’s hands find purchase on your hips.

“I’m glad you're here without a date,” Adrian admits, without a hint of shame in his voice. 

“I’m glad you're here without a date too, or else this whole weekend would have been a lot more complicated than it already has been,” you offer honestly, and lean into his swaying. Your fingers play with the curls at the base of his neck absentmindedly.  

“It wasn't that complicated,” he says, “We’re just bad at feelings.”

Understatement of the century, you think, but yeah, that checks out. You'd both had hurt feelings and both been weird about it. He hums along as he pulls you closer, your chests almost touching, the heat tangible between you. It's going to be hard to keep your cool around Adrian all night without wanting to be even closer, without wanting to kiss him. Maybe you can kiss him afterward. 

“Did you become a Billy Joel fan while I was gone?” you joke, knowing that his taste was a lot more girl pop or harder rock when you last saw him.

“Billy Joel? I thought this was Bruno Mars!”

You want to ask him if he's joking but you already know the answer to that. 

“Yeah, I mean they're easy to mix up,” you say, and he nods. 

“I really missed you, Adrian,” you finally admit, “I wish I-”

“I wish that you would just let it go, troll under the bridge. Lets have fun before you have to leave again,” he interrupts.

“Well actually,” you readjust your arms, more of a hug than a dance now, “I’m here until next Monday, and I want to give you my number so we can keep in touch. Laura lives here now so…”

“So you have a reason to come out here?” he asks, hopeful. 

“You’re a reason to come out here too, if you want to be,” you assure him, and his fingers dig into your hips, the material of the skirt bunching under his palms. 

“Really? I do, I want to be-”

Fuck it, you think. Be a slut, do what you want. 

You pull Adrian into a kiss, cutting him off mid sentence. He hums, the death of a word coming to die from his lips to yours, and his form melts around yours, his grasp on you growing firmer pressing you against him 

“I knew it!” you hear Laura scream, “I fucking knew it!”

But you don't dare pull away from Adrian to laugh with the bride. He keeps swaying, off tempo to the song, but perfect for you. His lips curl up into a smile and his own laughter breaks the kiss, though. 

“Do you want to go have sex again?” he asks bluntly, slightly breathless from his own laughter. 

Unlike the other night, you're pushing him down onto the mattress tonight, Adrian eagerly shuffling further up onto the bed as you hike up your skirt to climb on top of him. You stop when you're over his hips, letting the skirt pool around him, your flimsy underwear leaving you feeling bare and hot against Adrian’s pants. 

You pull him up by his tie, your mouths meeting in the space between you for another sloppy kiss, open-mouthed and wet.  You both fall back into the sheets, kissing as your hands move to the knot of the tie. You fiddle with the knot, pulling it one way, then the other, trying to loosen it without breaking the kiss to look at it. 

Cmon, cmon.

You feel it tighten against his collar instead of loosen. You have to pull away. 

Adrian’s lips chase yours, not opening his eyes until he hears you speak.

“Get rid of the tie, I can't do it!” you demand, your hands instead starting to work at buttons lower down on his chest. He laughs, but his hands leave your body to pull the tie loose, and he does it easily. He slips the stupid thing off of his neck and flings it into the dimness of the room. You're free to unbutton all of his shirt now, pulling at where it's tucked into his pants to get it off of him. 

Fuck, he’s beautiful, you think, as you finally get to take in his bare chest. He's got muscle, he's buff, with the lightest dusting of hair between his pectorals and light freckles that you remember.

You pull him back up to sit so he can remove his shirt and you find that to be the wrong move. As he sits up, his hips shift against your core, and you struggle to bite back a needy moan. 

“Am I bothering you?” he asks.

“Nope,” you shake your head, biting down on your lip at the friction. 

“No? Then you wouldn't mind if I…” he trails off, tilting his hips up into yours again. This time, you feel him rock hard against you, and you whine desperately. Fucking bastard. Adrian chuckles, and you decide to get your revenge.

You push him back down on the mattress the moment the offending shirt is shed, latching your lips onto the expanse of his neck, kissing a wet trail in your wake as he gasps and grunts below you.

“I was so mean to you,” he gasps as you bite at his collarbone, “Do you want to punish me for that?”

Who the fuck is Adrian fucking? Is the first thought through your head. Punish him? What kind of kinky shit does he get up to?

“Don’t wanna punish you,” you dismiss, “Just wanna have you.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, his lips dragging against your hairline as he pulls you lower on top of him until your chests meet, “Still on the table, though.”

You'll keep that in mind.

“Get this dress off,” he groans, equally struggling with the zipper until he finally just rips the hook and eye at the top of it, the zip sliding down your back easily for him after that. You’re definitely going to have to get that repaired, but that’s the last thing on your mind when Adrian is pulling the material off of you half crazed, trying to have you bare against him as soon as he can. He pulls the dress up over your head, maybe not the easiest way to discard it, your arms struggling to untangle from the straps as he unwraps you. You help him push all of the bunched up material across your chest and over you, finally breathing a sigh of relief when the bodice finally comes off of you and you can both drop the dress off the edge of the bed, and his hands immediately working their way to your chest.

His thumb brushes against the faded mark on your breast that he left the other night, sending a shiver down your spine. You're sure he's about to leave even more.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he moans, squeezing at you while his eyes take you in. You’re glad now that you opted for the ‘sexier’ of the no-show underwear you picked out under the dress. 

“Thought you said women don’t like being called hot,” you joke, recalling his previous words.

“Right, pretty,” he corrects himself, and you have to shake your head. 

“I’m fucking with you,” you laugh. 

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he retorts, and quickly flips you over, pinning you underneath him. 

“So so pretty like this,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your body, stoking the fires of your arousal.

You’ll keep that in mind, too. 

You grab at the sheets, balling the cotton in your fists as Adrian’s hands finally make their way between your thighs. He presses his fingers to your clothed cunt, and you both sigh at the contact. 

“Please touch me,” you beg, all the boldness gone from your tone now that he’s got you like this. 

“I’ll do you one better!” he says, and moves himself down the bed, removing his hand only so he can remove your panties. 

“Can I taste you?” he asks, repositioning you for his own easy access. You nod, tilting your hips up towards him. He puts your legs on his shoulders, and slowly creeps in. 

His hot breath fans out over your cunt, his glasses fogging as he looks up at you, the way his cheeks and nose scrunch lets you know that he’s grinning like a maniac. 

Without warning, he darts his tongue out, licking between your folds and only stopping when the tip of his tongue meets your clit. 

You whine, needy and unexpected, and try to quiet yourself again. You feel him as he exhales through his nose, maybe laughing at your desperation, and moves his tongue; small, deliberate licks against your clit that have you hitching your breath with each one.

“Please,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping the sheets so tight you could rip them. Adrian dives in like a man starved, his tongue dipping into you and the tip of his nose bumping against your clit. He licks into you like your cunt is what keeps him alive, like the water of life. You moan, languid and loud; his big hands flatten out, one against your stomach and the other along the underside of your breast.

Where the fuck did Adrian Chase learn this? Maybe you don't want to know, maybe you just want to enjoy the skills for what they are. His lips move in tandem with his tongue, not hiding the slurping sounds his mouth makes; fuck, he worships you.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, at first a slow bubble, and then a sudden boil. Your moans turn almost to screams as you shake under him, your thighs tightening around his head.

Adrian’s having none of that, though. He removes his hands from you, moving them to your thighs to hold them in place. Without the leverage of your legs, your back arches almost painfully, leaning into your orgasm as it shakes your entire system, Adrian just happily working you through it, gradually slowing down his mouths movements as your breathing becomes more and more regulated.

“Good?” he asks, when he finally moves his mouth away from you. Everything from his nose to his chin is soaked in you. 

“Y-yeah,” you pant, still catching yourself.

“Good, then you’re ready for me,” he says, smirking as he untangles from your thighs and moves back up. He kisses your cheek, decidedly not letting you taste yourself at this moment. Somehow, in your haze, you hadn't noticed that he’d gotten rid of his pants. 

You already feel him, heavy and hard, resting against your entrance, and immediately you need more no matter how sensitive you might be.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell him, and he chuckles.

“Not for this,” and he pushes in to the hilt. He gives you no mercy, like he said he wouldn't. He gives you no time to adjust to his size. You yelp, both in surprise and in pleasure, and he picks up his pace as if your noise was permission.

“Fuck, prettiest girl I’ve ever known, all laid out for me, all for me,” he babbles, his lips just barely brushing yours as he stays close. 

“All for you,” your voice comes out in a moan, all control of your volume and tone lost; the fire already building in you again.

“Gonna give you everything, all for you,” he says, like a promise, his own voice strained. 

He doesn't hold back in his pace, pushing in all the way each time, deep and hard, a slamming pace. He's not gentle, but the way that he looks at you is full of all of the affection and sweetness he holds for you. This is your best friend. This is… whatever he is beyond that. 

“Adrian, kiss me,” you beg, wanting to seal yourself to him, to connect. 

“But I might taste-”

“I don’t care.”

That's all he has to hear, and once the kisses start, they don't stop.  He moves a little awkwardly at first, his pace faltering slightly to adjust for this connection, but he finds his rhythm again. He thrusts sharply, your hips moving to meet him as best you can, your bodies moving in sync with your pleasure. He quickens his pace, his kisses getting harsher, more bruising. Adrian is a kisser, you realize. He likes it like this. 

“I’m gonna—,” he gasps after his harshest thrust yet, and you grab his hips, holding him close. 

“Go ahead,” you say, breathless yourself and ready to lose your own composure. 

He pumps into you harder, his hips snapping against you sure to bruise. Adrian’s hand leaves your hip to move his thumb to your clit, rubbing quick circles that choke out sobs from your throat. It's hard to hold on, both physically to his hips but also to your composure. Every thought of him, him, him, and the fire inside of you that fights to escape. 

“Adrian, please,” you beg, voice watery and desperate, and he obeys, speeding up his movements until you scream, and shake, and lose everything. Your mind whites-out. No thoughts but the specific shade of green of his eyes. 

And when you come back you feel full, sticky and hot. Adrian holds you tightly, still inside you, snuggling you close and cradling your body to him. He's shushing you and pressing kisses into your skin, muttering sweet nothings to soothe you. Fuck, thats never happened before. 

“That was good?” you ask, breathless laughter in your tone. 

“Now I know you have to be joking with me,” he says, pulling back slightly, “That was mind-blowing! Literally.”

He pulls away more, and you reach out to reel him back into your embrace. Adrian reassures you he’ll be right back. Even after all of this, the tiniest doubt creeps in, and when he backs out of the room, boxers in hand, you pull the sheets up over you tightly. 

He comes back into the room with two glasses of water in only his boxers, a sight you want to get used to. He places the glasses down on the nightstand and throws the covers over the both of you, enveloping you in their warmth and his. Adrian runs like a furnace.

“Can you stay this time?” Your voice is small, vulnerable. Adrian’s warm hand cups your cheek, and he shimmies closer to you under the covers. 

“How much does a flight to Gotham cost?” he asks, deadly serious. 

You balk at his question.

“Adrian, you can't uproot your life for me,” you insist, feeling bad suddenly about the way you continue to cling to him, hands pressed into his back to hold him to you. 

“Psh, who said that? I figure maybe Evergreen can survive without me for a week or so. I wanna take you on a real date,” he snuggles closer, curling the blankets further over you. Your own little world, a little bubble just for the two of you. 

You’ll remind him that Gotham is currently surviving a week without you, too, in the morning. 

“I’d like that,” you say, sleep sinking into the edges of your voice. 

“Get some rest,” he says, sounding just as sleepy, his head feeling heavier against you, “I’ll be here in the morning.”

He is. 

[justagalwhowrites]

Hi again Bestie!

This is for the Enemies to Lovers Angsty Joel ask. I was thinking a new reader with show Canon Joel? But if that’s too much work and it works better with Lavender Joel and doc that’s fine too!!

aaa thank you so much for responding!!

OMG HI BESTIE!

Thank you so much for the ask and for being patient! I hope this fits with what you're looking for. Thank you for reading and reaching out! Love you!!!

(This ask came in from @dundienominee and they're tagged with permission HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE!!!)

Loathe/Lust

You have every reason to hate Joel fucking Miller. He knows it. It doesn't stop him from coming to you for help.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Legal age gap (reader is 27 and has known Joel since she was 25, Joel is 46.) SMUT :D Canon typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 7.4k

Spring, 2013

At the end of the world, there were very few constants. 

One, you were fucking tired of jerky. 

Two, there was never a shortage of people who needed healing. 

Three, you hated Joel fucking Miller. 

Everything else could shift and change but those things were facts. 

Jerky was a staple of every meal because, with QZ food, there was no such thing as fresh. There was often no such thing as enough, either, but fuck were you tired of jerky. 

And QZ life wasn’t easy on anybody. People needed a lot of patching up here. You’d come up through FEDRA school, 17 and a junior in high school when the outbreak happened. You were tapped early for your aptitude for biology and taught the very basics for helping to keep people alive. You didn’t know much about the world before, you’d been a teenager when things went to shit, but you knew what they taught you barely qualified as medicine. Still, you did everything you could to help people. It was nice, having purpose in this shitty life. 

Then there was Joel. Joel fucking Miller. Joel fucking Miller, drug smuggler. Joel fucking Miller, guy who got your brother mixed up in his stupid illegal activities. Joel fucking Miller, the man who introduced your brother to fucking Marlene. Joel fucking Miller, the person you really blamed for your idiot brother taking off across the country to help the goddamn Fireflies as though there was a single fucking thing people could do to fix this disaster, to bring down FEDRA. Without Joel fucking Miller, Nathan never would have gotten hooked on drugs to begin with, never would have been vulnerable, never would have fallen for Marlene’s bullshit. 

If it wasn’t for Joel fucking Miller, you wouldn’t be here, alone. 

But you were. 

And you hated him for it. 

And he knew that you hated him for it. 

Which is why it was a hell of a shock when there was a knock on your door late one Thursday night, just before curfew, and Joel was there, grimacing and panting for breath. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” you snapped, almost slamming the door on him. He threw his hand out and caught it before you could, his thick fingers closing around the edge of it. 

“Not any happier about this than you are, Brat,” he spoke through clenched teeth, using the nickname your brother always called you. The name he’d called you for 22 years before he went across the country because of Joel fucking Miller. “But I don’t exactly got another choice.” 

He adjusted his leg so you could see it in the light. A knife was embedded there, right where his femoral artery would be. 

“Shit,” you muttered. 

“Can’t exactly go to the clinic with this,” he said. “But you’re dumb enough to take that fuckin’ doctor’s oath seriously so…” 

“Calling me dumb probably isn’t the smartest move when you want me to save your goddamn life,” you glared at him. 

“I ain’t wrong.” 

“Fuck you,” you sighed, opening your door wide and stepping out of the way. He limped inside, going for the couch. “Don’t even think about it, asshole. Kitchen table, if I’ve got to clean your blood off my floor I’m not trying to get it out of the fucking carpet.” 

He grimaced but obeyed, heading for the table and sitting down heavily in one of your mismatched wooden chairs. You went to collect what you’d need to - hopefully - keep him from fucking dying in your apartment and came back, propping his injured leg up on another chair before pulling a third one up alongside him. You put a towel down below him and took your scissors and cut his jeans, exposing his leg where the knife was sticking out. 

“At least you weren’t dumb enough to pull it out,” you muttered, examining the wound. “Know how big the knife is?” 

“Big,” Joel said wryly. 

You glared at him. 

“I meant in inches. Not that you men can judge inches worth a damn…” 

“I can,” he said. “And it’s about 8 inches. Trust me, I know.” 

You rolled your eyes. Of course he did. 

“Alright,” you said, actually meeting his gaze. His eyes were oddly gentle, a softness to them that made your heart ache a little when you looked at him too long. “I’m going to do what I can here and I have my shit set up and ready to go but if this thing shredded your femoral artery, you’re going to bleed out and die in just a few minutes and there won’t be a goddamn thing I can do about it. I’m as prepared as I can be for a heavy bleed but if you’re really fucked you’d need someone to take a blood vessel from one part of your body and use it to patch the femoral and it should go without saying that I can’t do that in my fucking kitchen. I could put a tourniquet on you and try to get you to the clinic but…” 

“FEDRA would just finish me off,” he nodded. “I get it.” 

You paused for a second, looking at him. 

“I really will do everything I can,” you said, actually earnestly speaking to him for a change. You felt… bad for him. For Joel fucking Miller. You didn’t like the guy but you didn’t want him dead. 

You pulled on gloves.

“Look, Brat, I know this is a win/win for you, alright?” He smirked a little. “Either I owe you or I’m dead and you don’t have to fuckin’ deal with me anymore. Promise I won’t haunt you if I finally got myself killed, OK?” 

You nodded and tried to wrap your head around the idea that Joel fucking Miller might be dead at your kitchen table in a few minutes. 

“Anything you want me to tell people if…” 

“Don’t have much I’m leavin’ behind,” he said, actually serious now. You weren’t sure you’d ever heard him be serious before. He sighed. “Been fine with dyin’ for a while. About time it caught up with me. Just tell Tess and Tommy I’m sorry for fuckin’ ‘em over. Sorry to you, too, for draggin’ you into it. Don’t have anyone else.” 

You nodded again. Why was Joel making you feel bad for him? Making you think of him like a person instead of some asshole now? When it’d be on you to keep his stupid ass alive? 

“Right.” 

You cracked your neck and loosened your body up before putting a hand on his bare thigh. His skin was warm and soft, his leg muscled and thick. 

“This is going to hurt like a bitch,” you warned him. “But you need to stay completely still, otherwise something that wasn’t already fucked up might get fucked up. I’ve got to pull the blade out as straight as I can, try to get it to go the same path it went in, OK?” 

“OK,” he nodded, his large hands going to the base of his thigh, like he was going to hold himself still. He looked at you again. “Meant what I said. It’s really… it’s alright if it kills me, OK? Don’t want you to feel like shit if it does. Not your fault.” 

“Yeah, I’d hardly feel like shit for taking you out, Miller,” you rolled your eyes even though the idea of him dying mad your stomach turn. Maybe it was because it would be on your shoulders and you didn’t want anyone to die because of you. Even Joel fucking Miller, the man you hated more than anyone else. The thought that part of him wanted to die made your chest tight. You took a deep breath. “Here we go.” 

You pulled the knife out as quickly as you could while also holding it steady - which, as it happens, wasn’t all that quick. Joel hissed in pain but, to his credit, didn’t move. 

There was a fair bit of blood once the blade was freed but it wasn’t a full-blown arterial bleed. You breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Good news, you’re not going to bleed out on my kitchen floor,” you set the knife down and grabbing gauze, putting pressure on the wound. “You missed your femoral artery. I still need to get this bleeding to slow down before I can stitch you up and you’ll need to take it easy for a bit but you’ll be fine.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” he smirked a little but still. He looked relieved. 

“You’re a constant disappointment so I’m used to it.” 

He snorted and relaxed back into his seat, crossing his arms, watching you hold the gauze to his leg. His bare, strong leg. You swallowed. 

“Hear from your brother at all?” He asked. 

You looked up at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Every now and then.” 

“He doin’ OK?” 

“Fine, from what I can tell,” you replied. “Doesn’t have anyone giving him a steady stream of fucking drugs which I’m sure helps.” 

He shrugged. 

“Demand is demand, Brat,” he said. “Don’t blame the supply.” 

“Want me to go back in and cut your femoral artery?” You snapped. “Because I can make that happen.” 

“Honey, I don’t think you could cut the femoral artery of someone who was tryin’ to kill you if you had the chance,” he smirked. “Not gonna do it to me. You should work on that.” 

You just rolled your eyes and changed out the gauze. 

“In just a second I’m going to get to stab you over and over with a needle,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Think I’ll see just how close together I can get these stitches. Can’t wait.” 

It didn’t take long for the bleeding to slow and you did, indeed, stab Joel fucking Miller 20 times in the leg with a needle. 

“There,” you said, looking over your handiwork. “Looks like you’ll live to ruin lives another day.” 

“Livin’ the dream,” there was a hint of bitterness in his voice. You set the needle down and took off your gloves before getting up. 

“Alright, you’re not going home tonight,” you said, squatting down so your shoulder was tucked into his underarm. “It’s after curfew, anyway, and I’m not about to let you waste all the trouble I just went through by getting picked up by fucking FEDRA. I’m moving you to the couch and going to set you up so that leg is elevated. You can go home in the morning.” 

He nodded and shifted in his chair until part of his weight was on you. He was big, bigger than you really realized, his weight more substantial than you’d expected. He was so broad. You hadn’t been close to him before, had never realized it. He sat heavily on the couch and he hefted his injured leg up as you grabbed some towels to stack below his ankle. 

“Comfortable?” You asked, hands on your hips. 

“Think there might be a pea under one of these cushions…” You flipped him off with a roll of your eyes. He smiled. “I’m good. Thank you. For… well, all of it. Appreciate it.” 

“Yeah well,” you shrugged. “I’ll work on that so next time I can finish you off.” 

He smirked. 

“Whatever you say, Brat.” 

You woke up early but Joel was already gone. 

You didn’t see him again until he showed up at your door almost a week later, not long after you got home from a shift at the clinic. 

“Who’d you piss off this time?” You asked. 

“Just you.” 

He held out a book and you frowned and took it. It was Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. 

“What…” 

“Saw you had some of her on your bookshelf there,” he nodded toward it. “But didn’t see that one and it’s the only one I’d fuckin’ heard of… Anyway. Thought you’d like it.” 

“I do but…” you turned the book over in your hands. It was a nice copy, with a cloth cover and a ribbon bookmark. It would have cost a small fortune on the black market. You looked up at him. “Why are you giving me this?” 

He shrugged. 

“Saw it, thought of you. Wanted to say thanks for not killin’ me.” 

“You really don’t…” 

“I know.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “See you around, Brat.” 

He left while you were still staring at the book. 

It was three months before he was back at your door again. You’d read Pride and Prejudice twice since then, disappearing into the story, reluctantly thankful to Joel fucking Miller for the best escape you’d had from the QZ in years. 

This time, it was after curfew and he was clutching his arm, soaking wet as it poured rain outside. You just sighed and wordlessly opened your door. 

He came in and sat at your kitchen table while you grabbed towels and gave him one. 

“Don’t have a knife lodged in there do you?” You asked, grabbing your stash of medical supplies. 

“Not this time,” he dried his face and roughly pressed the towel to his hair. “But it’s a nasty cut that hasn’t stopped bleedin’, think I need stitches.” 

“Can you take the shirt off?” You asked, going to the kitchen to wash your hands throughly. 

“Think so,” he called after you. 

You stopped in your tracks when you turned around. The shirt was off and Joel was… fucking beautiful. His chest and arms and shoulders were broad and sculpted, his stomach a little softer and inviting. You wanted to touch him, not as someone treating him but as someone experiencing him, enjoying him. You shook yourself mentally. 

He was Joel fucking Miller. You were not going to get turned on by Joel fucking Miller. 

“You just love giving me an excuse to stab you repeatedly don’t you?” You said, sitting in the char beside him and pulling on gloves. 

“Figured you’d be bored,” he smirked. “Got a big knife if you want to try to take me out this time…” 

He nodded to his belt and you looked down instinctively. He did, indeed, have a large knife strapped to his side. You rolled your eyes. 

“Sit still while I do this,” you demanded. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

You disinfected and cleaned the wound before you started stitching it. You could hear Joel grimacing as you did and you tried to ignore just how good his damn arm looked as you worked on it. 

“How’s Nathan?” He asked after a minute. You looked away from his wound to glare at him. “What?” 

“He’s not here,” you snapped. “You can’t get him involved in your shit, can’t get him running drugs for you again, can’t get him putting his life on the line to feed his damn addiction, you can’t take advantage of his weakness so you can make more goddamn ration cards! So stop fucking asking!” 

He was quiet and you went back to stitching. 

“S’not why I ask,” he said after a moment. 

“Then why do you?” You kept your eyes on your work this time. 

“I’m not the one who got him hooked on that shit, you know,” he said, ignoring your question. You scoffed. “It’s true, I’m not. He was hooked well before I met the guy…” 

“And how’d that happen?” You asked, harsher than you really meant to be. 

“His dealer was a piece of shit,” Joel said. “Asshole named Robert. He knows who’s most vulnerable, who’s desperate, who he can overcharge and drive into debt. Nathan owed him money. A lot of fuckin’ money. He didn’t have it and Robert wasn’t too happy about that. So… I intervened.” 

“Intervened?” 

Joel shrugged and you glared at him, needle in your fingers. 

“Sorry,” he said. “But… Robert’s an asshole but he’s smart enough to know that I’d fuck up him and his guys. So, I made him back off. But Nathan still needed the drugs so…” 

“So he took up with you,” you finished for him, making the last stitch and tying it off. You cut the thread and sat back in your chair. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Joel said, titling his arm to look at your work. “Wasn’t tryin’ to get him into trouble. Was tryin’ to keep him out of it. Seemed like a good kid. Didn’t deserve to get killed because some asshole was takin’ advantage.” 

“And you expect me to believe you?” 

“Not really,” he shrugged. “But still. You deserved to know. And I do hope your brother’s doin’ OK. I know you think I’m bad news but the Fireflies ain’t exactly the Girl Scouts.” 

“Well, nothing is anymore, right?” You took off the gloves and started cleaning up. “Sit tight, I’ll find you a shirt. It’s after curfew because apparently you can’t piss people off at a reasonable time. You can take the couch again.” 

“See, Brat, it’s all part of my plan,” he smirked. “Come here too late for you to send me home so I can sleep on your strangely comfortable couch…” 

You rolled your eyes and found a shirt your ex-boyfriend had abandoned at your place when you’d broken up. You handed it to him and he went to the couch, not needing your help this time. 

“Try not to sleep on the side with the stitches,” you said. “That should go without saying but…” 

“But you think I’m an idiot?” He asked, brows raised, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

“Something like that,” you said, turning to to go bed yourself. But you paused, doubling back. He’d settled back in on the couch, his uninjured arm behind his head. He frowned at you, questioningly. “Thanks. For the book, I mean. Hadn’t read Pride and Prejudice since before the outbreak but it was nice, reading it again. Though I think I’d rather you owe me a favor than get the book…” 

“Still owe you the favor,” he said and then looked at the spot on his arm where the stitches were. “Two, now.” 

You smiled a little. At Joel fucking Miller. 

“Good to know.” 

He was gone by morning. 

The next time you were able to talk to Nathan via radio, you asked how he’d meet Joel. You asked about Robert. 

“Oh yeah,” he said, as though this should have been obvious to you. “Think I owe that guy my life, honestly…”

“He was selling you drugs that could have killed you, Nathan,” you wished he were about 2,000 miles closer so you could grab him and shake him. 

“It’s all relative,” he said. “He sure as shit didn’t do to me what Robert did, I’ll say that.” 

Joel fucking Miller. 

What if your brother was only alive because of Joel fucking Miller? 

It was two months before you saw him again. 

This time, it was at the clinic. He was sitting in one of the small triage areas, just a curtain around the bed and you sighed when you saw him. He smirked. 

“What’d you do now?” You asked, looking down at the chart. 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m here to lie about symptoms so you’ll give me antibiotics to take back to Tommy. Think an injury of his got infected outside. Don’t want anyone lookin’ to closely at it.” 

“Jesus, Miller,” you sighed. “Alright, what symptoms do you supposedly have?” 

He rattled them off and you nodded along before sighing again. 

“Let me get you antibiotics,” you said. “It’s a miracle none of you have fucking died, you realize that.” 

“And I’m sure that’s a big disappointment for you,” he smirked. 

“Every goddamn day.” 

You went to the medicine cupboard and unlocked it, grabbing the pills you needed before closing it again when a strong hand grabbed your shoulder and ripped you around, so fast it made your head spin. You recognized the man standing so close to you that you could smell him. He’d been in the clinic a few times over the last few weeks, always complaining of pain. Everyone turned him away for drug seeking behavior but you could tell, the last time he was here, that he was getting desperate. 

“Look you little bitch,” his large hand went for your throat before you had a chance to even fully realize what was happening, your eyes going wide. He thrust you back against the cabinet with a thud, knocking your head against it so hard that you felt your brain rattle in your skull. You dropped the bottle in your hand and it clattered to the ground as you instinctively clawed at his hand. He tightened his grip. “I’ve tried being nice, I’ve tried asking. You’re going to give me what I fucking need or I’ll kill you and get it from someone else, understand?” 

He squeezed tighter, your vision starting to get spotty. You couldn’t breathe and it’s not like you’d taken a deep breath before diving in the deep end of your parents’ pool. You wouldn’t last long without being able to breathe. Panic flared, acute and sharp, and your body scrambled to fight, to kick and scratch and punch to get a breath but it wasn’t working, he wasn’t letting you go. Your head was getting light and your vision was already narrowing when, suddenly the hand disappeared. 

You collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping for air and looked up to see Joel on top of the man, a knee in his chest as he brought his fist down on his face again and again and again. The man tried to get his hands up to protect his face, then tried to land a hit on Joel but neither worked. Joel was almost eerily quiet as he pummeled the man, grunting with every blow, an almost unhinged look on his face. 

“Joel!” You tried to yell for him as you pushed yourself to your hands and knees. Your body felt so weak compared to just a few minutes before. You couldn’t really talk, an unfamiliar, raspy sound the only thing that left you. You tried again, anyway. “Joel!” 

You managed to make it to your feet and caught Joel’s elbow as he pulled it back one more time and he stopped, turning to look at you with that mad look on his face but it vanished the second he saw you. He dropped his arms, panting for breath, his eyes running over your face and neck. You pulled him back from the man as a nurse ran over to start examining Joel’s victim. 

One of your hands went to your throat, cradling it gently and feeling for damage and you pointed to the pill bottle with the other one. 

“Should get out of here,” you managed, though it sounded more like a garbled mess than actual words. But he seemed to understand. He picked up the bottle and gave you a last, lingering look before leaving the clinic. 

One of doctors looked you over and said you’d be fine eventually, you just needed to rest. They offered you some pain pills - the same ones Nathan had been hooked on, the same ones the man today had been willing to kill you for - and you turned them down, just trudging home and collapsing on the couch when you got there. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d been attacked. It was the end of the world, after all, it had happened a few times before. But it was the first time you had the feeling that you were about to die. Even when you’d been held at knife point for ration cards you’d had the feeling that everything was going to be fine. Yeah, you’d be short on some ration cards that day but you’d be fine. 

Not this time. 

You tried to relax, drifting in and out of consciousness on your couch, trying not to think of the man with his hand around your throat. The way his fingers had bruised you, the way his palm had crushed into your windpipe. The ruddy tone of his skin, the desperate and angry look in his eyes, the stink of his sweat. It was all there, every time you closed your eyes and relaxed too much it was there. 

You’d just drifted off again when there was a knock on your door. You groaned and forced yourself off the couch and opened the door, your hand cradling your throat. You were half expecting it to be a coworker, coming by to check in on you. 

Instead, it was Joel. 

“Don’t try n’talk if it’s gonna hurt your throat,” he said. You frowned a little at him. He had a canvas bag over one shoulder. “Can I come in?” 

“Not going to try and finish the job right?” You asked, voice strained and scratchy. 

He rolled his eyes. 

“Move, Brat.” 

You made a face but stepped aside, anyway. Joel went past you to your kitchen, put the bag on the counter and started rifling through your cabinets. You followed him, frowning. 

“What…” your hand was still against your throat, voice raw. 

“Will you go sit down?” He gave you a look over his shoulder before going back to sifting through your things. “Jesus Christ…” 

You threw your hands up but obeyed, sitting at your kitchen table and watching as Joel finally found what he was looking for. A pot, apparently. He put it on your stove and turned it on before going into the bag and pulling out a jar that he emptied into the pot. He stirred it for a moment before going into your freezer and finding the ice. He put some handfuls into a towel and came to the table, pulling out a chair and moving it so it was right in front of yours. He sat down and was so close to you that his thigh slotted between yours and you just sat there, looking at him, eyes wide. 

“Move your hand,” he nodded toward it and you realized you were still holding your neck. You obeyed and he gently took your chin in his large hand - his knuckles cut and bruised - adjusting your head so he could examine your throat. “Damn, Honey, he got you real good.” 

“Yeah, well…” 

“Hush,” he ordered. “Hold your head still.” 

He released your chin and lightly trailed his callused fingers over your throat, his touch lingering over where you knew was probably damaged and bruised. He took the ice in the towel and pressed it delicately to your skin. 

“See, you do know how to listen,” he said. “Even does you good every now and then.” 

You scoffed but you took the ice bundle from him, your fingers brushing his as you did. He sat back a little, his eyes running over the rest of you, his leg still between yours, the other brushing the outside of your thigh. 

“He get you anywhere else?” He asked eventually. You shook your head a little. Joel nodded. “Good.” 

“Why are you here?” You asked, voice a little clearer than it had been the last time you spoke. 

“You need to eat somethin’,” he said. “And I owed you.” 

“Why don’t I get to pick the favors?” You glared at him. 

“I’ll still owe ya,” he shook his head a little. “Dyin’ to know what you’d cash it in on.” 

“You and me both.” 

It didn’t take long for the soup he brought to be done and he poured you a bowl of it. He got you both glasses of beer, also from the bag he’d brought. Your eyes went a little wide at your first bite of soup. 

“What?” He frowned. 

“This is good,” you said, going back for another bite. 

Joel laughed. 

“Don’t act so surprised. I’m not totally useless.” 

“How’s your hand?” You asked, looking at his knuckles. He flexed his fingers for a moment. 

“Fine,” he shrugged. “Had worse.” 

You considered him for a moment. He frowned. 

“What.” 

“Why’d you do it?” 

His frown deepened. 

“Do what?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Save me. And beat the shit out of that guy. You hate me. Why’d you do it? Was it just that you didn’t want to lose out on the person who will stitch you up in the middle of the night or…” 

“Don’t hate you,” he said, taking a sip of beer. 

You scoffed. 

“You hate me,” you said, taking another bite of soup. The weirdly good soup. “I know you hate me.” 

“How do you know I hate you.” 

“Because I hate you,” you said, though you were starting to think that wasn’t true anymore. 

“Yeah, noticed that,” he smirked a little. 

“You call me brat…” 

“Nate called you brat,” he replied. “And you are a brat. Seemed appropriate.” 

“You’re never nice to me,” you said. “Well, except right now…” 

“You’re never nice to me,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want to make your hatin’ me something that wasn’t fun for you, figured I should be mean back.” 

“Hating you isn’t for fun you dick,” you glared at him. 

“It’s not?” He looked a little amused by it all. “What’s it for then?” 

“It’s for ruining my brother’s life!” You dropped the spoon into the bowl with a clatter and set the ice pack down with a little too much force. “For getting him mixed up in your fucking smuggling operation and getting him involved with the fucking Fireflies and making it so he left town and I’m just left here, alone! I’m alone, I have no one and nothing and it’s all your fucking fault!” 

You weren’t entirely sure when you started crying but you were. The overwhelming, gasping, choking kind of crying that you had to fight to breathe through. You could feel it in your chest, the pressure of the tears building up behind your eyes, every pain you’d suffered the past year welling up and bursting free at once, all of it directed at Joel. 

“Oh, Honey,” he leaned forward and gently took your face in his hand, drying your cheek with his thumb. His legs were on either side of yours. He delicately pulled you against him, your face going to his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you, cradling you securely against his broad body. “I’ve got you, it’s OK…” 

You stayed against him like that for a long time. Longer than you wanted to admit to. But it felt nice to be there in Joel’s arms. You didn’t have anyone here, didn’t really have friends outside of work. Your ex-boyfriend had broken things off a few months back and the idea of dating again the QZ sounded hellish so you just hadn’t done it. Joel, in that moment, felt like someone you had. He was someone that made it so you weren’t totally alone. 

After a while, you’d calmed a bit, your tears slowing and your breaths coming easier. You kept your face buried in Joel’s shoulder, shifting a little so your nose was pressing against his neck. 

“You didn’t answer the question,” you said, voice thick and rough from the tears and your injury. “Why’d you save me?” 

He sat back from you ever so slightly, his hands taking you by the shoulders and guiding you back up so you were looking him in the eye. You wiped your nose on the back of your hand. 

“You might hate me but I never hated you,” he said, his eyes oddly soft and earnest. “Not once.” 

“Joel,” you said quietly. His hand went from your shoulder to your cheek, his fingers threading into your hair. You were suddenly, acutely aware of how little distance there was between the two of you. It seemed like too much. 

He slowly, cautiously moved closer to you, his eyes going from your own to your lips and back again but he stopped just short of kissing you. Like he was waiting for you to close the distance, asking your permission. 

You gave it. 

You pressed your mouth to his and it was delicate at first, your lips brushing his, feather light but electric. Then, Joel’s grip on you got stronger, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent, his tongue slipping into your mouth and tasting you. You let out a little moan, an ache growing between your legs. 

Joel released your face and his hands traveled to your waist and he adjusted as he pulled you closer so that your legs went around him and you were suddenly in his lap. You could feel his hard length through his jeans and you realized that he hadn’t been joking about knowing the size of the knife. You groaned a little, grinding your hips down against him, and Joel moaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down and around your back, fingers spread wide over you. 

“You sure about this?” He asked, peppering kisses along your jawline between words. 

“Yes,” you panted, needy. “I want you…” 

“Fuck, Honey,” he breathed. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” 

His mouth reached the damaged skin of your throat and he delicately kissed each bruise on your neck, his lips warm and soft. His fingers lightly traced your bruises.

“He still alive?” He pulled back from you enough to look up at you from your position on his lap. You draped your arms over his shoulders and nodded. He frowned. “Shoulda killed him for touchin’ you…” 

“Not worth it,” you said, kissing him again, harder this time. His hands moved to your front, unbuttoning your shirt. 

“Yes, you are,” he said, his mouth close enough that his lips brushed yours when he spoke. “Promise you, you are.” 

He nudged your arms down and slid your shirt off, pulling away from you to look down at your half naked body. 

“Fuck, Honey,” he groaned, his large hands coming to your stomach and spreading warm and wide against you, moving over you, skimming over your skin with his rough fingers. He pulled you tight to him as his hands went for your bra clasp, unhooking it as he pressed his lips to your shoulder. He took it off, too, his hands finding your breasts, cradling them in his large palms, his thick thumbs brushing your nipples. “Jesus Christ, got no right lookin’ this fuckin’ good…” 

He kissed over the swell of flesh before he found your nipple, sucking it into his mouth, licking the tip with his tongue, making you moan, your back arching into him. He did the same to your other breast, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your back like he couldn’t get you close enough. When he released you, he looked up at you, panting and desperate. 

“Lemme take you to bed,” his hands slipped down your back to your hips, pulling you down firmly against his hard cock. “Need inside you…” 

You just nodded quickly and his hands moved to your ass, holding onto you from below as he stood with you in his arms. You let out a little yelp as he did before he carried you down the hall to your bedroom. 

He lay you down so gently on the bed it was almost shocking, kissing you deeply as he did. You fumbled with his shirt until it was unbuttoned and you could slide it off his broad shoulders and cast it aside. Joel moved to your jeans, unbuttoning them and hooking his fingers around them and your panties, pulling them down your body together, crawling back and kissing down your body as he did. 

“Oh Honey,” he said once your pants were on the floor and he was kneeling between your thighs. He was looking down at your dripping slit. He spread your legs a little wider, opening the core of you to his gaze, before he ran a single finger over your folds. He left it against your clit, giving it the gentlest pressure. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. You achin’ for me?” 

“Fuck, yes,” you were practically squirming below him, your whole body raw and needy, the heat in you burning. “Please Joel…” 

“Gonna make you come first, Honey,” his finger started working in slow circles, the pressure growing. “Make sure you’re ready for me. Get this pussy so fuckin’ wet for me.” 

He sank a thick finger inside you, moving his thumb to your clit, and he moaned as you whimpered at his touch. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” the hand not working your pussy went to your lower stomach, his fingers spread out wide against your skin. “Jesus Christ, you feel incredible, fuckin’ incredible and that’s just my finger, fuck…” 

He worked you harder and you rocked your hips against him, your hands going to your breasts and holding them, squeezing them. 

“Holy shit,” he moaned at the sight. “Fuck, need you to come Honey, need you to come for me so I can get inside you, come on baby.” He added another finger and hooked them up into the softest part of your core, making your breath catch in your throat. You started tightening around him, the heat in you growing. “There she is, can feel it, come on Honey, come all over my fingers, you can do it. Come for me, don’t make me beg for it, baby, need you too fuckin’ bad…” 

You came, gasping his name when you did, your hold on your breasts relaxing as your whole body throbbed with your release. 

“Fuck, there we go,” he worked you through your orgasm, his fingers never stopping. “Doin’ so good coming on these fingers Honey, getting yourself all ready for my cock. Gonna take such good care of you, baby, promise I will.” 

Your body went slack and he smiled and almost devilish smile, sliding his fingers from your body and sucking them clean before he opened his pants and took them off. He climbed between your legs, crawling up your pliant form, kissing a trail up your body until his lips were on yours and you could feel his thick length brushing your dripping core. 

“What if I want you to?” You panted, your hands running over his bare back. 

“Want me to what?” He asked. 

“Beg for it.” 

He smiled a little. 

“Please Honey,” he whispered, his nose brushing yours before he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “Please, let me inside you. I’m past fuckin’ want you, baby, I’m past needing you. I swear not havin’ you is gonna fuckin’ kill me. I will beg you all damn night if you want, I’ll beg you all damn year if it’ll make you give yourself to me.” 

You laughed softly, your fingers twisting in his hair as you pulled him closer. 

“Guess you should fuck me then,” you smiled before you kissed him. 

He felt as desperate and needy as he sounded, his thick head catching on your entrance before he pushed into you in one long, firm stroke. You gasped at the stretch of him, feeling every inch of his cock as he opened you to him, the tip of him finding a place inside you that you didn’t think anyone had reached before. You were so exquisitely full it was like your body had been holding space for him your whole life. It was something entirely new, so good you were almost happy the world ended just so you could find a feeling like this. You looked up at him, your eyes wide, wondering if he felt it too. 

“Fuck,” he panted, holding himself within you as your body adjusted to taking him, his eyes searching yours. “Jesus Christ, I’ve never… fuck, Honey, I ain’t gonna last long, you feel too good, too goddamn good.” 

“Joel,” you breathed. It was all you could think to say, every thought that wasn’t him gone from your head. Your pussy was already starting to tighten around him, just from the feel of his cock inside you. “Fuck, please…” 

“You already about to come baby?” He asked as he started to move inside you, slow and heavy at first. You moaned and nodded quickly. He thrust into you, hard and firm. “Fuck, fuck, not gonna last when you come, can I come in you, need to come inside you, fuck Honey I need to come inside you.” 

You just nodded again even though you weren’t on birth control and you sure as fuck didn’t know what was happening between the two of you outside of this bed and the fact that you knew this wouldn’t be a one time thing. It couldn’t be, not when he felt this good, like he’d been made to fuck you and you’d been made to take him into yourself. You wanted him to leave part of himself inside you, plant it deep so you could feel him there all warm and wet tomorrow. 

With your nod, he started fucking you - really fucking you. His cock was so deep when he pushed into you you could feel the thick weight of him pressing up against your skin, like you’d be able to see him inside your body if there was enough space between the two of you to look. He pulled back almost totally, leaving just his head inside your grasping hole before fucking back into you, every stroke hard and desperate and your nails sank into his back as your hips rose up to meet his on every thrust. You never wanted him to leave your body, wanted him to make a home deep inside you so you could always be this full, this complete. His body worked your clit and your pussy got tighter and tighter around him, your head swimming with the pressure of it all, your body so needy it felt like you might burst. 

“Want to come with you,” you whimpered. “Please, come for me Joel, I’m so fucking close, want you to come deep inside me, please…” 

“Fuck Honey,” his thrusts stuttered and he groaned. “Gonna fill you up so good, leave this pussy so fuckin’ full of me, fill you up again and again…” 

He thrust deep, so deep it almost hurt and you felt him start to pulse inside you. Your hands went to his lower back, pressing him impossibly deeper and you cried out as you came around him, your channel milking his cock, throbbing around him until there was nothing left inside him to give to you. 

He collapsed on you as you went limp below him and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder as he panted for breath. He stayed inside you as his cock softened and you could feel him leaking out of you. 

“Holy shit,” he said eventually, kissing your throat and then your chin and then your lips. He kissed you deeper as he slid out of you and lap beside you. You hesitated for a moment but he reached over and pulled you on top of him, so your head was on his chest and your legs were nestled between his own. His cock was wet against your skin and you liked it, the reminder that he’d just been inside of you. “Fuck, Honey…” 

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. His hand went to your back, tracing up and down your spine. 

“Still hate me?” You could hear Joel fucking Miller’s cocky smile on his voice. 

“I will if you never fuck me again,” you kissed his chest. 

He laughed. 

“Don’t gotta worry about that. Even though you still found a way to be a brat during the best goddamn sex I’ve ever had.” 

You smirked. 

“Would it be the best sex you’ve ever had if I didn’t?” 

“Guess not,” he said. “S’it OK if I stay the night? Think we got some shit to talk through but I ain’t got it in me to do it tonight.” 

“If you insist,” you teased, pressing yourself a little tighter to him. He held you a little closer. “Night, asshole.” 

You said it the way you’d say baby or love. You meant it that way, too. 

He laughed a little. 

“Night, Brat.” 

His voice was soft, like it was when he called you honey. Something told you he meant it that way, too.

[faeridollz]

HIDE N’ SEEK

“Just wait you can’t hide from me!!”

Pairing; retired!price x yan!reader

summary; he’s an idiot to think he can just break things off, skip town, and not explain why. So like any crazy bitch “sane” person would, you came to take him home!. ^^

Warnings; obsessive/crazy reader, breaking and entering, knife play, non-con/ basically rape, smut, drugging, kidnapping (pricenapping?), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, use of y/n, your stronger than price only because of his injury lolz.

ˏ ˋ°•*⁀➷ GLASS SHATTERING IS INITIALLY WHAT WOKE THE POOR MAN UP, Price’s phone hot from all the messages and calls you sent him prior. He sat up, barely dressed and physically defenseless due to an old mission that caused him to retire early. (it messed him up BADDD yall 😔)

Your feet drag and click on his wooden floors, crunching on the sliding door glass you had just shattered with a hammer. Tossing it to the side. “Babyyy!!~” you whine, staggering into his house. Who cares if you were a bit drunk? You just wanted your love to come back to you and you’re so lucky he never found that tracker you put in his Car. A knife in your other hand as you roam around the first floor of his lovely 2 story house, rudely entering the guest rooms and knocking things over.

“Shit..” price grunts, quietly moving through the house and trying to find somewhere to hide or something in hopes of finally escaping you. That’s the whole reason he moved so far away from everyone after retirement. Because he had caught you in the act of killing his ex-coworker. He knew you loved him. You just loved him too much and took everything too hard- *creakkkk..* he paused, of course, you heard him walking around. If it were a normal situation he’d probably praise you for your good hearing, but his heart sank so deep when he heard you coming up the hall. His face formed into a grimace at the click of your boots on his hardwood floor

You round the corner, smiling ear to ear when you see him looking at you from the end of the hall. “Price!” You gasp. rushing to him knocking him over, straddling his lap. “Y/n- get off me!” He struggled, grabbing at your wrists and waist, trying to push you off. “H-hey! Stop struggling!” You grunt, your thighs tightened around his hips. Your hands instinctively grabbed his wrist, gripping them and breathing heavily. “Get off me ri’ now y/n!” He sneered, and you wince. Why was he so mad? Isn’t he happy? He used to call you his pretty baby so why is he so mad all of a sudden? Your stupid brain couldn’t comprehend why he was so angry at you :(

“Aww c’mon baby!! M’ missin' you so much!! And we finally reunited and you yell at me?!” your bottom lip starts to quiver, jutting out in a soft pout. “You’re fuckin’ crazy! You break in m’house after I tried so fuckin’ hard to get away from you and you’re taking the innocent route?! Get tha fuck out of my house y/n!” He yelled at you, did he not understand? Did he not get that you did all this for him? That’s fine. You’ll just have to make him understand. You’re barely thinking straight when you inject the sedative you pulled out of your bag into his thigh. It’ll be okay right? He’ll understand soon, right? Right?..

Your basement is cozy, to say the least. Due to parties, sleepovers, and just the need to make everything cozy in your house. The chair price is tied up with chains isn’t so bad either would be better with no fucking chains. You sit in front of him, in his favorite sleeping gown waiting for him to wake up. Did you accidentally kill him? Was it too many sedatives? Was the viagra pill you slipped into his mouth too much

Snapped out of your head by a groan, you're happy he’s alive and you’re even more happy to see the tent in his pants. (You had to dress him before you dragged him over to your house because of the toll station on the highway. It would’ve been a bit weird to see a woman with a technically naked sleeping man in her car right? ^^) God do viagra pills work wonders :)

“You up baby?” You hum, smiling at his drugged-out expression. He can’t even really bring himself to respond, it’s pathetic really, but you love it so so much.. “y-y/n.. fuck.. what d-did you do..” price tries to move, but he’s stopped by the chains that forced him to stay in the seat. “Nothin' too bad.. I’d never hurt you!” You pout.

He should’ve known. He should’ve known you’d leave him overstimulated and use him until he said he’d stay with you, gritting his teeth to hold back moans, he didn’t want to love you. But how could he help it? He used to think he’d marry you before you slipped up and killed someone.

You whine and squirt all over his meaty length, legs shaking as he cums deep inside your fluttering pussy. Maybe when you have his baby he won’t leave you again ^^

I don’t really like this one guys 😣

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Fic Recs | Vol 7

Howdy, folks! It's time for this week's recap of what I read :)

As always, you can find the spreadsheet here, and you're always more than welcome to tag me in your fic if you'd like to be included. New and old fics both appreciated; anything from a drabble to a 400k word series is fine; and the only Pedro boy I don't really read is Pero Tovar.

Without further ado here are the fics I read this week and the unhinged ramblings of a madwoman (me) to substitute for a coherent recommendation.

One for the money, two for the show a Joel series by @cowgurrrl

Rockstar!Joel AU with such a sweet fake dating trope lead in and then the most delicious yummy angst. As your resident angst whore this was everything because it was so REAL and so fucking heartbreaking. And then the happy little hopeful ending and then all the drabbles and extras??? AH! My favorite part was the lil instagram stories i think <3

sharing is caring a Frankie/Santi one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Your friend Santi introduces you to his friend Frankie and uhhhh you guys go make a sandwich.

Only Lovers Left Alive a Joel series by @atinylittlepain

I love every single thing about this. Revenge. Vampires. Blood play kind of? Biting. Etc. This shit rocks.

Waiting Room a Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters

I fucking love what kel did with this song. The repetition of one for the road really fuckin got me too. Angst angst angst.

The Special One a Joel series by @toxicanonymity

What if a reluctant soulmates AU was also a vampire!Joel AU? It would be perfect, that's what. I'm loving vampire!joel rn anyway, but this was such a cool twist on it. Also his vibes in this are fucking immaculate

Copycat Killer a Joel series by @beskarandblasters

Bitch this is so good. Stalker!Reader x Rockstar Joel... fucking perfect. I love how they both kind of suck as human beings a little bit. And that blow job oh my GOD.

Sweet Creature a Dieter series by @wildemaven

I really really love how this story is going. The little town is so real to me and I love all the little places we get to see. The bookstore sounds like a DREAM. And I can't wait for Reader to bond with D over art ahhhhh.

Stitches a Din series by @djarinsbeskar

This fic is so fucking good dude. I love the set up for the whole thing and the reader character is really fuckin' cool. The like... 8 consecutive parts of incredible smut that continues to be genuinely interesting and really fucking hot even after like 200K words is extremely impressive. I'm also pretty sucked into the story and the way Medic is being interwoven into canon. Oh and the introspection we get from Din's POV is *chef's kiss*.... anyway pls god finish this story i need it

False God a Frankie series by @swiftispunk

Frankie asking for what he wants is so... yummy... especially when it's wanting to be your subby lil pussy eating king like... PLEASE. And his praise kink??? I am in Frankie heaven

102 a Frankie one shot by @tieronecrush

I fucking love this ahhhh. I felt so bad for Frankie but also their friendship is so cute??? I love the unrequited love//idiots to lovers trope

Safe in my Arms an Ezra one shot by @mishasminion360

Ezra struggling to adjust to having one less limb and me crying about it. This was so fucking good. The raw emotion he feels and reader's unwavering support... the realism in saying something that accidentally hurts his feelings and trying to take over tasks he might find difficult AGH. I love this so much

Leave Off Your Wandering a Joel series by @oonajaeadira

Adira, I fall in love with every single little world you create without fail. This is obviously no exception. Your sheep ranch is a dream. The way you build up this backstory with the Roostlings and the friendship with Tommy and Maria and just all these extra little details you take the time to flesh out and weave into the story... makes my heart sing, friend. I adore this <3

-------- fics i read a while ago and never recommended -------

Name a Javi P one shot by @joelscruff

Consent a Dieter series by @fuckyeahdindjarin

Whiskey, Dark and Deep a Jack one shot by @prolix-yuy

Stay on the Screenplay a Dieter series by jazzelsaur (ao3)

A Safe Haven a Joel series by @joelsgreys

Psychomanteum a Dieter series by @whatsnewalycat

In Name Only an Oberyn series by @forever-rogue

------

I haven't written a word in weeks, so once again no updates for me :/

-----

Happy Reading

[tboybuck]

18. “I shouldn’t be in love with you.” 💕💕

hhhh i love this prompt thank you so much <33 prompts from this post.

Y'know that thing people always say? About how absence makes the heart grow fonder? Yeah. Eddie gets it now.

It's been five months since Robin whisked Steve away to Chicago so she'd have someone close while she's in college, and if Eddie thought he had it bad for Steve while he was right there at his side all summer long, it's got nothin' on how bad he's got it now. Steve calls him every other Saturday, and Eddie watches the phone all fuckin' day waiting for the damn thing to ring.

It's not like they don't see each other. Steve came home with Robin over Christmas, and he spent most of his time here at the trailer with Eddie. They're not a thing, not really. They're touchy and affectionate with each other, but they always have been. That's no different than it was the summer they spent in each other's orbit, never too far out of arm's reach from one another.

But they're not a thing, because Eddie's too much of a coward to risk their friendship by confessing his feelings when there's a very real chance he's being fucking delusional.

The thing is, though, Steve doesn't call anyone else on the kind of schedule that he calls Eddie. And when he calls, they stay on the phone for hours. There shouldn't even be that much to catch up on, but Eddie finds himself making note of every little thing that happens in Hawkins that he wishes Steve could be there for.

On Eddie's birthday at the end of January, decidedly not one of their designated call days, Steve calls him. It's two minutes after midnight and Eddie's got his guitar in his lap and a pencil wedged behind his ear, and the phone rings.

"Happy birthday," Steve says quietly when Eddie picks up the phone.

Eddie twists the phone cord around his fingers. "Thanks, Stevie."

"Was I first?"

Eddie huffs out a laugh. "Yeah. Didn't even give anybody else a chance. It's barely midnight. Shouldn't you be in bed? You have work tomorrow, don't you?"

"Mmm," Steve says, a little sound of confirmation. "Wanted to call anyway. So what do you want for your birthday this year?"

You.

Eddie's overcome with that feeling again, the tingle all the way down to his toes when he thinks about how gone he is on Steve, when he imagines his smile and his laugh and the warmth of him at his side. Eddie misses him a little more every single day.

"I mean... I dunno if you could deliver, Stevie."

"Try me."

Eddie aches. It's like Steve is begging him to say it. He wants to say it. So badly.

"I shouldn't."

"You shouldn't what?"

"I shouldn't be in love with you," Eddie whispers, and then he holds his breath.

It's quiet. Steve is too quiet for too long and oh, god, he's done it now. Stupid. That was so stupid. Such an idiotic thing to say, fuck.

"I'm coming home this weekend," Steve says at last. "I'm coming home to see you and take you out."

"Because...?" Eddie's voice shakes with hope.

"Because I... I haven't felt this way about anyone in a real long time. You really couldn't tell? We almost kissed on New Years, Eds."

"Well, y'know..." Eddie stammers. "Thought I imagined that."

He remembers how close they'd been that night, how Steve's breath had smelled of beer, how Steve looked at Eddie's mouth before Eddie'd turned away from him. Here he'd been thinking he'd stopped himself from making a stupid, terrible mistake.

"I can't play it cool anymore. Being away from you has been..."

"Hard," Eddie finishes for him.

"Yeah. I wanna try this with you. I wanna try... us. That okay?"

"Seems too good to be true."

"Maybe it is. We'll never know unless we try, right?"

Eddie twists the phone cord around his fingers again and tries to hide his smile behind the receiver, even though Steve's not here to see how stupid and love drunk he looks right now.

"Sooo... I did manage to charm you with my irresistible good looks and excellent taste in music?"

"Something like that," Steve says, and there's a smile in his voice. "I'll see you this weekend."

"Can't wait."

"Happy birthday, Eds. I... I'm sorry it took me so long."

"Better late than never, big boy."

still taking requests!

[justanamesstuff]

Loving you is...

Matty feels emotional before a show. He lets his gf know how much she means to him.

A/N: Wasn't planning to post, but here we are. Hope you like it guys ♥ Word count: 0.6 k

Warning: fluff, pre-show anxiety, typos.

“You are so unaware of how beautiful you in fact are.” Matty expressed, after taking a drag from his cigarette. 

She looked at him, taking a peek around the empty back side of the arena. Matty insisted her to tag along with him. He was letting his nerves got the best of him, she wanted to ease it somehow. The girl decided that maybe the best way was to keep him company. 

“Next album's name?” She teased him.

Jokes were a way to comfort each other. Since they were friends until after, Matty confessed his feelings for her and asked to be his boyfriend. They had a long list of inside jokes. She smiled, staring at his uneasy silhouette. 

“Ha-ha…no,” Matty moved his tie from side to side, not happy with the position of it. “The new album…” He continued saying. “Your album-“

“Matt-“ Matty’s girlfriend protested.

They had the conversation about him writing about her multiple times along the years. She wasn’t all too comfortable with the idea. It wasn’t like she felt ungrateful, on the contrary. Even though, thinking about strangers and not so strangers know about the love she was happy to feel and live without the rest of the world knowing, made her mind spiral.

“It’s going to be more conceptual,” Matty kept going, because he was adamant to write an entire album about her, about the love of his life. “Because you like those more. The name it’s going to be shorter probably…still thinking about it.” He admitted to her, as well as he tried -expecting her not to notice- to bring her onboard. 

“You are going to do it, huh?” She smiled wide at him. It was so hard to be mad at him for longer than five minutes.

“‘Course baby…who else I’m going to write about if it’s not you?”

“Don’t know…politics?” She shrugged her shoulders, folding her arms in front of her body. 

“I can add a pinch of that, but no,…it’s going to be about-” Matty brought her into a hug. “Founding the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. And not in a vague, empty, stereotyped way…” He went into a spiral of words, explaining his idea. “Really, it’s going to be about founding you.” Matty stated, leaving a sweet kiss on her nose. “You're not the other half missing, as I’m not that for you either. It’s this thing I feel-” He patted his chest, on the place his heart was. “When I’m with you…about feeling, in a way, complete. Also, you make me better, I want to be better when I’m with you…be better for you-“

“There’s no one better for me than you, Matty.” She spoke lower, so only he can hear, even when they were alone. 

“I know…I know now! Sharing this life with you lights up everything…and I don’t want to say that every past pain, ended relationship, was worth it because I would found you at the end, but it was- It is.” Matty let his girlfriend know. “I’m sorry, I’m getting emotional, and ramble like a fuckin’ idiot.” Matty apologized, running his hand through his curls. 

“Don’t be sorry…come here…” She managed to pull him in a tight hug without spilling the tears polling in her eyes. 

Matty pulled slowly back, to rest his forehead on hers. 

“I love you so much…and words aren’t enough. I’ve never imaged I can feel this deep about someone. I do now.” 

“I love you too, baby.”

“Please don’t leave me, ever.” He pleaded, wearing his feeling on the sleeve of his shirt. 

“I won’t.” His girlfriend promised. 

“Spend eternity with me?”

She let a cute laugh out. “Sure, sounds like a nice plan!”

[johnslittlespoon]

okay mota part 4 spoilers:

that was so much better than the last episode!! felt less rushed, got to dive into the characters a bit more, cool to see the town and surroundings and stuff. and the opening scene of gale... WHEW.

really fuckin disappointed (tho not surprised) that there was literally just one mention of curt and it was just when they were listing people who died. a month timeskip, no mourning, not even an offhand comment from gale or john or any of the guys and i didn't really expect otherwise but it was still nice to have silly hope the past week lol. altho there was that moment where gale and john were both kinda unspoken-ly bitter? sad? about the people they had lost but they never directly commented on it.

but i did love getting a bit of character development, seeing the guys get to have some fun, watching gale and john look at each other like idiots in love (the way gale watched john talk back to his superior?? the way john watched gale dance with meatball?? smitten idiots.) but also that scene with john talking back was very much 'i'm in pain so i'm trying to self sabotage by getting people angry enough at me to hit me so i can feel something' vibes, like plane wing 2.0 except no one will hit the way curt did. :(

and the sex scene good LORD. god. felt like an unintentional apology for the emotional turmoil of the last episode LOL. i'm gnawing on john's thighs and i would have folded so fast if i were that woman, i would not have been leaving that room in the morning.

the end was pretty devastating except i think i know what's up with gale's crew and obv they're not killing him off, glad we at least got john's reaction to him not making it back. i was predicting he'd have a little bit of a dive off the deep end thinking he lost his other closest friend and i'm pretty sure him asking to be put in the next mission is that.

there are so many more scenes i really liked but i'm fuckin terrible at names, it's a wonder i even remember the main three lmaooo so not gonna go there and this blog was mainly made for shippy fic writing/brainrot so <3

anyway on the fruity side of things, once i figure out how to yoink clips from apple, there were so many cute buck x bucky scenes that i will be editing to hell!! it felt a little heart healing to get scenes of them being happy together. that's allllll, hope ur enjoying/enjoyed the episode too ^^

[lupaeusarc]

𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 𝘍𝘌𝘌𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘗𝘖𝘚𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘝𝘐𝘛𝘠 𝘝𝘐𝘉𝘌𝘚 𝘐𝘋𝘒

i saw some people doing these end of year posts and i'm in a sappy mood so happy holidays and here's some people i adore !!

@stanfordprepped JARED my bestie my love the light of my life you're genuinely one of my best friends and an absolute day one ride or die i can't even describe how much samemma and cassdell mean to me and our other ships are top tier as well i'm so glad i met you and i'll get to updating cassie's aesthetic and bringing some cassdell to the dash right after this 🤍

@carp3diems ceejay . bestie . partner in crime . sounding board for every chaotic thought that goes through my mind . i adore you and our plots and threads and the way i can just hop into your dms like " hey can i traumatize our muses rq " and you're always down lmao you're so talented and i'm just very thankful for you and for colbemma and for all of our chaos

@multi-royalty maddieeeeeee i love you so much my big little sissy 🥹 the only person i'll write em in the tvdu for and the reason i'm still writing at all i owe so much to you and i appreciate that even if we don't talk constantly you know i think you're the bees knees and you make the rpc a better place you absolute ball of sunshine

@stilesstylelinski trick you fuckin goblin i don't know what i would do without our bullshit or your unconditional emotional support you and i have both had a pretty shit year and i'm just really glad we could lift each other up even a little bit throughout all of it . stemma owns my soul and i'm still just in awe of your portrayal okay you basically pull the boy off the screen

@boundforhale MOM mom i love you mom i'm so grateful for you and for the gremlin chat and for all the support and love you give . you're so talented and kind and you need to be NICER to yourself for taking your time with replies i would be happy with a reply a year okay plus derek is a stubborn asshole it wouldn't make sense if he woke up all the time lol when he does he comes out swinging though you knock it out of the park every time

@ruinedmyself twin 🤍 i think you're so neat okay the way your brain works is so fascinating and the love you put into your muses is like palpable you're so cool and so talented and brooklyn and sam are so fucking funny i can't watch the basement yard anymore without thinking of them . i'll make more edits of them soon the accuracy is just so unreal lol

@inkedmuses VVVVVV listen i have such brainrot for john b and emma right now they make me so happy all of our ships are so cute and interesting and i love them so much you have some of the coolest plot ideas ever it's so chaotic and so fun to just yell ideas at each other and bring them to life

@guiltye LILLY i mean i just could yell forever and i will i WILL yell forever i can't even believe how intricate and deep and unique all of our plots are i'm constantly in awe of your mind every time i get a meme or reply from you i'm starstruck i love you and i love yelling about noah with you and i just think you're so fucking cool and so creative and talented and interesting and strong as all hell and you just never fail to make me smile *mandolin playing* you got all my love 🤍

@n0prom1ses lumiiii listen i love these idiot sisters so much already and i think all of our ships and dynamics are so neat 🥹 i'm sad we lost so much time especially knowing why but i'm so glad nature is healing and that sonny is once again dragging asher by the balls bc frankly it's what he goddamn deserves

i could literally go on for hours but i do want to get some things done lmao so here's some more people that my note to is this : i adore y'all and i hope you have the best holidays / new year and that 2024 brings you everything you hope for 🤍

@svnflowehrs , @escapedfromthevoiid , @hellgiven , @qapsiel , @westwingsolo , @r4chelamber , @ofcrxwns , @ofblackskies , @neverrcry , @gunchamber , @controlledvolatility , @sarcasticsnackpack , @localsalt , @fuckmeupindie , @hstoryhuh , @mecwmellc , @surgcns , @unitcd , @unbearablyindifferent