#I used to want his neck tattoo and part of me still kind of does

[ectogeranium]

It's been 6 years since I first played gta v, and I gotta say, I may not remember much, but I do remember being enamored by Trevor Philips. Opened the game, saw him on the loading screen sitting on an ATV with a rifle, and said to myself, "huh, he's gonna end up being my favorite, isn't he?" and like the psychic I am, I was incredibly correct. I will forever be a Trevor Philips enjoyer.

[watchmegetobsessed]

TOO FAR

A/N: some clingy soon-to-be-dad!harry content, i really vibed with this idea

WORD COUNT: 1k

SUMMARY: Harry has been extremely clingy since you've found out you were pregnant and this morning is no exception either.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You’re used to waking up to your boyfriend wrapped around you in bed in the morning, Harry is definitely a clingy sleeper and a big fan of spooning, but ever since you’ve found out that you’re pregnant, he’s taken it to the next level for sure.

It’s a sunny morning in Munich, warmth is flowing into the hotel room through the sheer curtains as you wake from your slumber and slowly process your surroundings. You’re lying on your side, a heavily tattooed arm is stretched out under your head while his other arm is draped across your waist, his big hand flattened out on your stomach, gently moving up and down underneath your night shirt.

Your bump is barely showing at this point, you’re only nearing the end of the fourth month, most of the time you look like you’re just extremely bloated, it’s been an ongoing joke between you, Harry, Sarah an Mitch, the only people on tour who know that you’re pregnant. You’ve been living in oversized hoodies and baggy clothes the past two months, trying to hide your tummy for as long as possible, but it’s getting hard since you’re travelling with Harry across Europe so your every step is being watched most of the time. The only place where you don’t have to be careful is in the safety of your hotel room.

Harry’s arm under your head curls around your shoulders as he pulls you tighter against his front when he realizes you’re up and you gladly melt into his embrace as he kisses the side of your head.

“Good morning, Love,” he greets you with that groggy, sexy voice you love so much. It’s probably one of the reasons you got knocked up, it’s hard to resist morning sex when he sounds like that and his looks just add more to it even. A few words and a wandering look at his messy, morning hair and the next thing you know is that his cock is inside you.

Not that you ever complained.

“Hi,” you smile, twisting your neck so you can look at him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

Your morning sickness finally stopped after the third month, but Harry has been still watching out for you in case you’re triggered again. Luckily, you haven’t started a morning with running to the bathroom in a while.

You feel both of his hands wander to your stomach, spreading his hands out over it as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. His legs are tangled with yours under the sheets and you feel like he is wrapped around you entirely, there’s no inch of your body he is not touching.

“Wanna stay like this all day,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against your ear.

“You have a show to give, can’t cancel on that,” you chuckle softly as you reach behind and comb your fingers through his hair.

“Don’t want to let go of you,” he whines like a kid.

“You’ll have to.”

“No. Come on stage with me.”

“How would you move around with me there? I can’t move along with you, I don’t have the energy,” you laugh and start wiggling around in his arms until you’re facing him, his arms remain locked around you.

“I’ll just stand for the whole show. With you in my arms.”

You just smile, finding his clinginess cute. A tiny part of you was afraid he wouldn’t take the news well, you didn’t plan this pregnancy even though you’ve been together for almost four years now. But it’s been kind of the opposite, he was obsessed with you before, but now that you’re carrying his baby, he has taken it up a few notches for sure. He’s always touching you, holding your hand or hugging you, he does everything for you and makes sure all your needs are met as fast as possible. He tells you he loves you probably a million times a day and wants to spend all his time with you.

Again, you’re not complaining.

“I’ll be waiting for you at the back as always,” you softly hum, brushing your nose against his before kissing him.

“That’s too far,” he mumbles against your lips, his arms tightening around you.

“It’s as close as I can get while you’re on stage.”

“Too.” Kiss. “Fucking.” Kiss. “Far.” Kiss.

“That’s too bad,” you giggle, but he is still kissing you, anywhere he can reach, on your cheeks, nose and chin. “You don’t really have a choice.”

“Mmm, just wanna be close to you. Both of you.”

“I’ll be right there when you run off the stage. We both will be. She comes to everywhere with me and I will be there,” you add with a chuckle, nodding down at your tummy.

“She? You still think it’s a girl?” he grins at you, that familiar twinkle in his eyes flashing again. You saw it when you told him you’re pregnant, when you had your first ultrasound and the first time he realized your bump was finally showing. You wish you could take a picture of it, but no photo can give back reality.

“Yeah,” you nod with a tiny smile. You’re gonna be in Scotland when the time comes for you to find out the gender, you already have an appointment reserved so by the time he steps on the stage for his second show in Edinburgh he’ll know for sure if it’s a boy or a girl.

He is staring at you like he is looking at the meaning of his life, like everything he ever wanted was right in front of him. Taking a deep breath he leans closer and kisses you softly.

“I love you,” you whispers against your lips.

“I love you too,” you smile into the kiss.

“Are you sure you can’t come on stage with me?”

You laugh, your head rolling back into the pillow.

“Yes, I’m one hundred percent sure. But when you’re done, I’m all yours.”

“Okay, then just give me a little more time,” he sighs, burying his face in your neck, but just moments later you have to break the peace.

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“I really need to pee though.”

“Okay.”

A few moments of silence.

“You want to come with me to the bathroom too, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[4channerguy]

Fluff Nagumo (sakamoto days) x GN reader!! It could be about anything Idc as long as it’s fluff!! Include nsfw in the end if you would like too I don’t mind 🫶

✧ nagumo as your boyfriend

◜ ⟣𓂃 hey anonn :3 sorry for the hold up i've been suffering writer's block for like months and shit & i decided it’s the best for me to do like a little headcanon thing cuz like tbh i don’t think i could write a full fic tho 🫡 also the nsfw part is lacking at best because i genuinely still do not KNOW how to WRITE for NAGUMO!!! WHY OH WHY!!!! anyway i hope it caters to you. xoxo (。・∀・)ノ

warnings ✎ : nsfw content, gender neutral reader (genitalia is not mentioned only your chest and your butt KEK) obsessive behavior mayhaps? ➜ ┊ pairings: nagumo x reader

♯┆SFW .ᐟ ★

he's such a wonderful bf *sigh*

he's also quite a teaser ngl, i think he blows on your neck a lot and when you flinch and glare at him he always has a shit-eating grin.

quite overprotective of you, even if you're literally extremely muscular and can literally bodyslam someone, he cannot BEAR the sight of you getting a small scratch on your face. or you getting into a fight

he's also a drama king

"oh hey nagumo...uhh what're you doing...?"

"applying rubbing alcohol on your face duh, who did this to you?? >:("

"what're you talking about...oh."

"oh?"

"heh...um that was me. i did that. i was...ripping a candy bag open. with my teeth. and the sharp part...cut my face." *insert mlp squee sound*

"..."

he's still going to thoroughly disinfect it and check on it everyday until it's gone. what a king!

he's very handsy, so you will find his hand SOMEWHERE on your part of your body.

you get so used to it you don't even notice.

if you ever sleep together, he always has both of his arms wrapped around you and whenever you wake up in the morning, you feel a puddle of drool in your hair. like always.

when he's sitting down next to you he always has the habit of grabbing your nearest hand and massaging your phalanges. or just intertwining and detangling your fingers with his.

also has the habit of just staring at you for no reason

it's like when you accidentally hold eye contact or stare at a person while your zoning out

except for his case he does it intentionally.

quite possessive of you, in some cases it can be unhealthy. also a bit jealous. (i might go on with this in a ramble if i could)

always offers his frumpy looking jackets and hawaiian shirts for you to wear

and you do because...who tf wouldnt lol

and when you do wear them he melts a little

trace his tattoos with your fingers!!! he finds that gesture slightly intimate

also you two have a game where every year for his birthday you pick out the dumbest tattoo design and make him get it

last year it was a badly drawn dick with two circles and a long oval lol

♯┆NSFW .ᐟ ★

i think he's personally an ass/thigh man

he's always finding a way to sneakily grope them in public settings

speaking of that he probably likes public risky sex (what a freak literally)

the thought of you and him getting off in the back of some janitor's closet or something like that with the door unlocked will get him hard ngl

he also probably has a size kink

AND this might be an unpopular opinion BUT i personally think that he would want to explore pegging

but you didn't hear that from me........................

he would think about asking you about it time to time but he won't personally act on it because it's not something he wants to experience it yet

(sorry)

dick size is kind of around 5 or 6 inches when hard probably and it's not very girthy i will not lie 🙅but it hits all the right spots i guess so yass?

he likes bondage, but wants to see you tied up most of the time :3

⋆｡𖦹 °✩ 04.12.24, do not repost or translate my content :^)

[redtsundere-writes]

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 3: Medusa's Snake

Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

mmafighter!sukuna ryomen x femcoach!reader

Sypnosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. Female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Yuuji, Choso and Sukuna are brothers. Toji is a nice parent. Praising. Warnings: Cursed words. Mentions sexual harassment. Word Count: 2696 words. Author's Note: I just finished and I could finally write this *cries happily*

Night was slowly falling over Tokyo. The small, cozy ramen bar stood out with its warm lights and glowing signs, The air was filled with the captivating fragrance of bone broth bubbling in the pots. The dim lighting enhanced the skill of the chef, whose expert hands moved gracefully as he masterfully prepared the noodles at the counter. The murmur of diners, mixed with the sound of steam and noodles cooking, created a gastronomic symphony.

In the middle of the stage, Yuuji, Megumi and I were there to relax after another day of hard training. The delicious broth and the comfort of carbs soothed the stress we had accumulated over the past few days. Sukuna and I have been training restlessly for the past month for the fight that was coming up in a few days. Toji Fushiguro is a superb Muay Thai fighter, a real threat to a boxer like Sukuna. We had to be prepared.

"My brother didn't let you rest?” Yuuji asked me when he saw me stretching my neck with some help from my hands.

"Yes, he told me not to even dare to think about resting because he would kick me out of the gym,” I replied. The stress in my neck came back from just thinking about his tantrums.

I understood that he was nervous about the fight. He had an important title to defend, and every fighter in his weight class and in back-to-back weight classes wanted it. Sukuna is just a king protecting his crown, but this was already too much. All his tension was slowly creeping up on my back. I had to admit that his dedication is admirable. While we were eating a delicious bowl of ramen without worrying about ruining our diets, Sukuna was still training in the empty gym.

“Sukuna always acts like this. It only gets worse with every fight,” Megumi explained without looking away from his bowl. 

“Doesn’t he have a hobby or something like that? If he keeps tensing his muscles like that, it could be bad in the long run.” I knew from experience. 

“He does, but we can't help him with that.” Yuuji shook his head. 

“What? Why not?” I asked. I was his trainer, I should know. 

Yuuji looked for a second at Megumi as if he was hesitating whether to tell me or not. It was little moments like these that made me understand why they were friends despite having two completely different personalities. They could communicate with just their looks and a few gestures. I wish I had a connection like that with someone. Yuuji let out a sigh and went back to eating, completely evading the question.

“Why don't you want to tell me?” I asked him directly. 

“It's just… It's not like he gets relaxed by it. It's more like a good luck ritual,” he explained reluctantly. 

Good luck rituals are common in any sport. There are soccer players who sing an anthem before taking the field, baseball players who wear a special pair of socks, and fighters who tattoo talismans on their backs. I was used to that kind of thing, and I'm sure Yuuji was too.

“There's nothing wrong with that,” I said. 

“It is because Sukuna doesn't know how to hold back,” Yuuji replied.

I could sense that he wanted to avoid the topic. I didn't know exactly why, but he must have had a good reason to do so, so I decided not to insist and continue eating, but we were no longer talking. It wasn't an awkward silence, we were just tired of the subject and needed to relax.

“Yuuji, she's his coach, maybe you should tell her,” Megumi commented after finishing his bowl… 

“It's unnecessary,” his friend answered.

“Gojo knows about it, I think she should also know in case Sukuna tries something, don't you think?” With that comment, I knew that this was no ordinary ritual. 

“You're right.” Yuuji sighed before looking at me. “The thing is… Sukuna must have satisfying sex the night before the fight for good luck,” he finally blurted out. 

"That's not so weird”. I commented before shoving another mouthful of ramen into my mouth. "Why didn't you want to tell me? You didn't want to embarrass your brother?” 

“Because that's why he and Choso don't talk to each other anymore.” Yuuji started with the story.

Days before the night Sukuna became the champion of the light heavyweight weight class, the three brothers had dinner with their parents. At this dinner, Choso excitedly introduced his fiancée. She was his love and pride, his better half. According to Yuuji, she was a very pretty and nice girl, and as usual, Sukuna avoided her like the plague because he was not interested in meeting her at all. 

Since the championship was held in Las Vegas, Choso and his fiancée stayed in the same hotel as Sukuna because Choso wanted to show her how cool his brother was (despite being a complete jerk). The night before the fight, Choso woke up in the middle of the night and realized that his fiancée wasn't in bed with him. She wasn't in the bathroom, and she didn't take her phone with her, but she took her room key with her. 

He went out to look for her and couldn't find her anywhere. Since he didn’t speak English well, he went to Sukuna for help. When he knocked on his door, his fiancée came out of the room with her hair matted and her panties in her hand. He knew about Sukuna's lucky ritual, so he knew perfectly well what had happened. His fiancée cheated on him with his damn brother. Choso went crazy and jumped at Sukuna, but he knocked him out before he could do anything. 

Choso woke up in the hospital bed with Yuuji next to him. According to him, he had never seen him so broken and betrayed in his life. He cried all night while his older brother was preparing for their fight. He knew Sukuna could be many things, but he never thought he would be capable of being a traitor. Needless to say, despite everything, Sukuna won the fight.

"What a jerk.” I grumbled through my teeth. 

"My brother doesn't care about anyone or anything. He can't be changed. I don't know where my parents failed in his upbringing,” Yuuji mentioned with a sigh. 

"That's why you should be careful, Sukuna is capable of doing anything to win,” Megumi warned me.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for telling me.”

The days passed, and the fight was one day away. After a tedious trip to Dubai and a quick stop to unpack at the hotel. The team, Sukuna and I headed out bright and early to the official weigh-in with the fight referee and judges. After Sukuna had lunch, we headed to the exhibition weigh-in at the hotel's convention center. This is where the fighters must appear to be brawling before the fight to get the public's attention. There is also a press round for them to publicize the event during the day. 

Sukuna, Gojo and I were called to the stage along with Toji Fushiguro and his trainers to be the next to go on stage. Sukuna was wearing his headphones and had a very unfriendly look on his face. Gojo asked him to take them off, and he did so between tantrums as I mentally prepared myself to go on stage. This reminded me of the good old days. 

As we walked out onto the stage, the press cameras began to flash and the murmur of reporters manifested itself in the room. I kept my face as serious as possible as Sukuna and Toji greeted each other and prepared for the weigh-in. I watched as he took off his hoodie to reveal his tribal tattoos proudly to the audience. The fighters reluctantly greeted each other with hurtful insults and stepped on the scales. The weight was somewhat different from the morning, as both had eaten breakfast at the hotel buffet. Toji weighed 220 pounds, while Sukuna weighed 215.

The audience applauded when it was announced that both passed the weigh-in. The only thing left was the press round. After Sukuna and Toji exchanged threats, all of us  sat at a long table on stage. Two coaches between the fighters to keep things from getting personal. The emcee asked if anyone had any questions, and the requests bombarded him. The emcee decided to give the floor to the reporter in front of me.

"I have a question for the Medusa’s Snake! How did the man-hating former welterweight champion of the women's division become the trainer of the champion with clear anger issues!?” The reporter exclaimed so that everyone present could hear the question. 

I could feel Sukuna's eyes drilling into my skull for me to turn around and give him explanations on the spot. I carefully approached the microphone to speak loud and clear. 

"I may not like men, but I like champions. I always belong to the winning team," I answered while the photographers kept flashing me.

Medusa’s Snake was the nickname I was baptized with in the first fight I had against a man in the first gym I went to. That fighter was a disgusting man from my past who harassed me in and out of the gym. He would always watch me, try to touch me and follow me home. That was until one day I asked him to train with him, since he was so interested in me. He agreed and during the fight he tried to touch my tits, that was until I kicked him and knocked out a couple of his teeth. He ended up in the hospital and didn't wake up until a day later. From then on, I was nicknamed that way, and my brand as a champion was to be mean to men but honest with women, which wasn't too far from the truth.

"How is your neck? Can you train the world champion in that condition?!” Another reporter asked. 

I used to be the world champion in my weight class until during my fight with Maki Zenin, I fell badly on my neck and tore it. I won the fight, but I lost a lot of range of motion in my neck. The doctor ordered me to rest for an indefinite period of time. It's been like that for almost two years now.

"I am fine, but I'm not fully recovered. My focus at the moment is on doing everything I can to keep Sukuna as champion,” I replied.

"Mr. Ryomen! It is known that you are very strict with admissions at your gym and that there are no women! Why the change?!” Another reporter asked. Sukuna took a few seconds to think about his answer, I could already imagine what stupid thing he would say next. 

"I chose her because she is the best,” he answered without further ado.

A small smile infiltrated my face before I could hide it. That response caught me off guard. It was the first time Sukuna had recognized me like that. I'd be lying if I said it hadn't been nice to be recognized for the first time in two months of work. In fact, it's the first time I've been recognized as a trainer in a long time. Being a woman in a male"dominated world is complicated. You have to be good enough to be accepted, but not be the best so as not to overshadow any man with fragile masculinity.

After a couple more questions and an exchange of threatening hints, we went back backstage. We were about to head to the hotel gym to warm up a bit, but Sukuna stopped me halfway down the hall to confront me. A move that not only seemed strange to me, but also to the team.

"Are you a world-class fighter?” Sukuna questioned me. He couldn't be serious. I was going to answer, but Nanami stepped in. 

"Didn't you know that?” He asked him to make sure he wasn't joking. 

"Did you think we just brought you some random pretty girl so you could finally learn floor techniques?” Gojo interjected in amusement. Sukuna got flustered about the hidden intention of his coach’s questions. 

"I don't waste my time watching female fighting,” Sukuna answered, slightly blushing with embarrassment for being the only one who didn't know who I was. 

"That explains why she beat you up the first day,” Itadori commented with a chuckle. 

"I'm not surprised coming from Medusa’s Snake," someone said in a thick voice behind us. 

It was no other than Toji Fushiguro. A tall, strong and powerful man. A fighter easily recognizable in the crowd. If you put a bag over his head, people could still recognize him by his large physique. Unlike his body, his appearance was quite plain. He had a haircut that was not so long, but not so short. He wore a black sweatshirt, gray shorts and sandals from the brand that sponsors him. Despite his dangerous reputation, he had a pleasant smile, decorated with a small cut on his lip. 

"It's nice to finally meet you,” he greeted me directly, completely ignoring his opponent. 

It felt strange for him to approach me in such a friendly manner, but I still accepted his greeting. Megumi appeared behind him, looking like he was wondering the same thing I was.

"Do you know her, dad?” Megumi asked him in confusion. 

"Do you remember the fight your cousin Maki lost three years ago?” Toji asked without taking his eyes off me. Megumi nodded. “She finished the fight with a perfect Kimura*, someday you should teach me how to do that,” he flattered me with a proud smile, but it vanished when Sukuna came between us. 

Kimura: A technique whose main objective is to exert pressure on the opponent's shoulder and elbow joint to achieve submission in various wrestling disciplines.

"Not even in your dreams, old man.” Sukuna barked with a frown. “She signed a contract saying she belongs to me, so don't even try.”

Seeing Sukuna so defensive about keeping me on his side was strange. After the last two months, he has done nothing but scold me every time I do something wrong in his eyes. Toji didn't even flinch at his threat. I poked him in the ribs to get him to step aside and let me talk. 

"Thanks for the compliment and the offer, but Sukuna is the only one I plan to train until I get back on my feet. I plan to return to the ring soon,” I explained with a smile. 

“I understand. If you change your mind, you know how to find me,” he said while pointing at Megumi. Toji approached Sukuna and gave him a proud smile. “Take good care of her, snakes are great at escaping,” he advised her with a wink before walking away with Megumi and the rest of his team behind him. Sukuna muttered a curse under his breath and let him go.

Two big UFC fighters had recognized me as a good coach and fighter on the same day. It was a big step for my self-esteem and my career. My heart was beating like crazy with excitement, and the smile on my face didn't seem to go away anytime soon. 

“You're smiling like an idiot,” Sukuna scolded me. 

"Can't I be happy that the heavyweight champion just complimented my skills?” I said as we headed for the exit with the others once Toji left our sight. 

"That better be it, and you better not be thinking about going with him,” he challenged me. 

"Are you jealous?” I joked while nudging him. 

"Of course not,” Sukuna answered while rolling his eyes. 

"Don't worry, just behave, and I'll still be yours,” I said in a mocking tone. I was partly joking and partly not. I really wanted him to behave. 

"Nice try,” he spat before picking up the pace to go with Gojo, leaving me behind. “Worth the shot” I thought as I followed them.

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[steddieas-shegoes]

Hi! I've spent hours reading your Steddie stuff when I honestly should have been sleeping because work and adulting. Gotta be some of my favorite writing! You have requests/prompts open? I have 2! If you like them :) 1. The Soulmate idea of people having a moving animal tattoo representing their Soulmate. Steve has hyperactive bat who loves to drape itself around his neck quite possessively. Eddie with a retriever pup or something that likes to curl up over his heart. 2. Always a sweetheart Steve? No King Steve era thing. He bugs Eddie to learn about D&D to understand his kids better qnd our poor metal gremlin melts :) I'm Soft Boi, so sorry for no angst.

I'm posting the 1st one here, but on the second one, I am gonna just give a rec instead. Last Man Standing by @griefabyss69 (GriefAbyss on AO3) is kind of this request but taking it to filth level 😈 But anyways, this idea is so fucking cool my dudes. I love a good soulmate AU, and when it's something super unique like this, I lose my shit. I definitely think someone could make a slow burn with this idea and if anyone does, please let me know! - Mickala ❤️

---------------------------------------------------------

He used to hate it.

A bat was such a menacing and disgusting creature.

Anyone who saw it would give him a look that was equal parts apologetic and concerned.

But when Steve started getting left alone at home, when he only had surface level friends, when he cried himself to sleep because the silence wasn’t enough to drown out the negative thoughts, the bat wrapped itself around his neck, and he didn’t feel so alone.

He’d started sleeping with his hand on his shoulder just to feel closer to his soulmate.

Hoped that whoever it was wouldn’t be disappointed that he was theirs.

————-

Eddie convinced himself for his entire childhood that the golden retriever tattoo that ran up and down his arms every day was some sympathy soulmate tattoo.

There was no way his soulmate was someone this hyper.

And then Wayne explained there was usually a story behind the tattoo, something more than just the personality or energy of a person.

At night, the retriever would pace across his chest, eventually settling right over his heart.

He wondered what his tattoo representation was.

He hoped it was a bat.

————-

“Dude, it’s not a big deal. Just show us!” Tommy yelled to Steve from the pool.

Steve had managed to hide it from his friends for so long.

He wasn’t ashamed necessarily, but he definitely didn’t need Tommy and Carol or any of the rest of the basketball team to see it.

The tattoo often stayed hidden pretty well during the day, usually hid on his thigh or stomach. He got away with always wearing shirts for practice and skipped post-practice showers with excuses that he had a study group to get to.

But his pool was a problem, especially now that he was at an age where everyone wanted to come over to swim when his parents weren’t around, which was often.

He tried to make excuses, said he was just worried about the sun, worried about a creepy neighbor watching.

It only worked a couple of times.

Now it was night, so no sun.

The neighbor was on vacation.

And everyone expected him to strip down and get into the pool.

So he did.

Everyone stared in silence as the bat flew from his stomach to his back and settled on his shoulder.

It seemed like it wanted to be seen, but still wasn’t sure how it wanted to be perceived.

Steve could relate.

No one commented on it, probably too afraid that one wrong word would get them kicked out of the pool permanently.

When he went to bed that night, the bat took its place around his neck, his hand rested in its place against his shoulder, and he sighed.

“I hope you’re being seen,” he whispered into his empty room.

——————-

The golden retriever was completely still for more than eight hours the same night Starcourt exploded.

Eddie tried not to panic for the first few hours, knew it could be any number of reasons the tattoo wasn’t moving.

But after hour six, he called Wayne at work, worry carrying over the line as fireworks boomed in the background.

“It’s not moving. It- you said when it stopped it meant- they can’t be, though.”

“Eds, take a few slow breaths, son. C’mon now, you’d have known if he-”

“But what if mine’s broken? What if the connection isn’t right?” Eddie tried taking breaths, but it wasn’t working.

The more he thought about it, the more likely it was that his soulmate was gone.

By the time Wayne made it home from work, the retriever had moved from his forearm to its usual place over his heart, and Eddie was fast asleep on the couch, his hand resting on top of it.

—--------------------

Being dragged into more freaky Upside Down shit was not on Steve’s to-do list. Then again, it never really was.

He wouldn’t have even bothered coming with Dustin and Max if not for the fact that Dustin was terrified something had happened to his new best friend Eddie.

He tried to hide his terrible mood, but knew he was failing.

He woke up this morning to his bat already on his leg, seemingly asleep, though it was normally still around his neck or on his shoulder when he woke up.

It hadn’t moved all morning, and he was a little worried about what that might mean.

He was also getting more worried by the day that he’d never meet his soulmate.

He knew it was dramatic, but most people he went to school with had met theirs by now, their tattoos now permanently placed in matching spots on their bodies.

“Dustin, this is so stupid,” he reiterated for the hundredth time as they walked up to the boathouse door.

He kept thinking it to himself as they poked around looking for Eddie, as he was being held against the wall with a broken bottle to his neck by Eddie, as he felt a flutter in his stomach at the way Eddie was watching him as they told him about the Upside Down.

He didn’t take the time over the next couple of days to pay much attention to his tattoo, didn’t really consider the fact that what little time he slept, he was so out of it he didn’t even notice whether the bat was on his neck or not.

Didn’t think about it until a moment in the RV alone with Eddie, when something in his brain told him to check on the bat.

“Sorry, just. Can you wait one second?” Steve interrupted Eddie’s thought as kindly as he could.

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie responded, confused.

He slipped to the back, not bothering to close the curtain that separated it from the rest of the RV.

He lifted his shirt in hopes of seeing it, but it wasn’t there.

He groaned and unbuttoned his jeans, rushing to just check and see if the bat had moved at all.

He shoved his jeans down and frowned.

It was in the same place still.

On his inner thigh on his right leg.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, or what he thought was under his breath.

“Everything okay?” Eddie’s voice was much closer than he expected, making him jump and rush to pull his pants back up. “Shit, was that your tattoo?”

“Yeah. It hasn’t moved in a while.”

“Neither has mine.” Eddie moved in closer. “Actually, mine’s on my thigh too. Kinda makes it hard to check.”

“Which thigh?” Steve couldn’t help asking.

“Right.”

“What is it?”

“Golden retriever. Can’t really imagine who it would be,” he admitted.

Steve’s first and only pet had been a puppy. A golden retriever named Daisy.

She was his entire world for almost a year until she chewed on one of his dad’s expensive watches and ended up being given to a man who worked with him.

He cried for days after that, didn’t talk to his dad for weeks, not that that was difficult to do since he was gone more often than not.

He vowed that he would get another one the moment he was an adult.

That didn’t quite work out.

But his nannies all used to call him a retriever, his energy contagious in the best way, his playful demeanor a relief. As he grew up, it got dulled by his parents, expectations, society, but he knew inside, all of that was still there.

“What’s yours?” Eddie asked, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“A bat.”

Eddie tilted his head and looked at him, eyes squinting to take him in.

“A bat?”

“Yeah. He’s a playful guy, but kinda shy it seems like,” Steve’s smile was fond until it was sad. “At least until he stopped moving.”

“When did he stop moving?” Eddie ignored the fact that it was a he for now.

“I guess I noticed it the day we found you in the boathouse.”

They both stared at each other for a moment, possibly coming to similar conclusions.

“What about yours?” Steve asked quietly, though something told Eddie he already knew the answer.

“The day you found me in the boathouse.”

“I-”

“How-”

“Dingus, we gotta go!” Robin was suddenly yelling as the RV door slammed open.

They could figure this out later.

They would have to.

—-----------------------

As Steve sat by Eddie’s bedside in the hospital, he thought about how often the bat tattoo had been the only comfort he had, the only thing that kept him from being completely alone.

He thought about how Eddie had always done his best to include the people who didn’t belong anywhere else, how he’d put on a show to protect himself, but hated being seen.

Wayne watched him from the other side of the bed, silently judging him, probably trying to figure out how to kick him out.

But he couldn’t.

He felt the pull now.

Now that he’d been around Eddie, somewhat gotten to know him, how he was fearless when it came to the gremlins, was willing to give up his own life if it meant getting Dustin to safety, he could feel the tug on his heart.

It was inconvenient since they didn’t know when or really even if Eddie would wake up.

So he waited.

He waited for Wayne to kick him out. He waited for doctors and nurses to have answers. He waited for Eddie to wake up.

He waited to know if he’d be able to have his soulmate or not.

—-------------------

Eddie’s first word when he woke up was Steve’s name.

Steve let out an uncontrollable sob, curling down so his head rested in the sheets of the bed.

Wayne’s hand was on his back, his voice trying to speak to him and Eddie at the same time.

They’d gotten closer over the last few days, Wayne’s calm presence enough to keep Steve from completely losing his mind with worry.

But the pain meds in the IV drip seemed to catch back up to Eddie within minutes and he was asleep again.

“He woke up though. Your boy woke up,” Wayne said to him, holding his hand.

“Yeah. He did.”

—-------------------

When Eddie left the hospital, Steve insisted on pushing his wheelchair to Wayne’s truck himself.

The nurse agreed with little argument; The hospital was incredibly understaffed and overrun with patients from the “earthquake” and she had a million better things to do.

The walk down was mostly quiet, but not awkward.

“I think some of my tattoo is missing,” Eddie finally said, barely more than a whisper.

“From the bats?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Doesn’t change anything.”

“No?” he asked, voice full of hope.

“Not a thing for me.”

—------------------------

They dated.

It was unconventional in every way.

Steve had never pictured himself with a man, but now he couldn’t picture himself with anyone but Eddie.

Eddie had to explain that they couldn’t just go out and hold hands like any of Steve’s other dates, they had to be careful.

It wasn’t always easy; Steve got frustrated and Eddie got insecure.

But they always ended their nights with soft kisses, with whispered words of comfort and promises.

They fell in love like that, the tattoos only the beginning of something that no one could have expected.

[dsireland86]

Autumn Stay

Jolly Karlsson X Noah Sebastian x Reader 

Pumpkins, leaves, coffee, bonfire, and cozy blankets. Time off away with your boyfriend and friends couldn't be any better.

tags: @philomenie

Your coffee is the perfect temperature when you take the first sip. The taste of cinnamon and vanilla hit your tongue instantly, making you smile. Perfection.

Long arms slip around your waist as soft lips touch your cheek, the tickles of facial hair making you giggle. Jolly rubs his cheek against yours, knowing how much you love the scratchy feeling of his facial hair against your skin, and breathes in deeply the scent of you. He places a soft kiss on the side of your head, pulling you back against his chest. The warmth of his strong body behind you brings you comfort, the kind that helps you sleep at night in peace. You rest comfortably against him, looking out the kitchen window at the different color leaves, slowly drifting down against the breeze that you're sure is already a little nippy. Autumn is here. You're favorite time of the year.

"I missed you this morning, min älskling. The bed was too cold without you." 

The deep sound of Jolly's husky voice, still filled with sleep, vibrates against your back.

"I'm sorry, my love. I woke from a bad dream and couldn't fall back asleep." 

Jolly's rough, tattooed hands sink from your waist, down to the warmest spot on you; right between your thighs. He parts them just enough for him to slip his hands in between, hooking them in that fine crease that separates your entrance from your thigh. A deep sigh escapes him, as the muscles in your core tighten at just his touch. 

"You should have woken me up. I could have easily helped you with that. I'm hungry," he states, rubbing his lips against your neck. 

His words make you grin while the soft scratching of his scruff reminds you of last night and the feeling of it against your sex. 

"Again?" You take another sip of your coffee.

"What do you mean again," he huffs, removing his hands from your thighs to tickle you in your sides, causing you to almost spill your coffee.

"Hey! Jolly!" you squeal.

Long fingers reach for your cup, removing it from your grasp just in time. 

Noah's reach comes from across the table next to you, and he claims your coffee as his own by taking three long gulps.

"Seriously, Noah?" you chide, trying to hide your smile. 

He flashes you his boyish grin that always makes your heart flutter. The two of you may be each other's best friend, but that doesn't mean you aren't attracted to one another. Noah is constantly reminding you that if Jolly hadn't staked his claim on you first, you'd be his. 

“I couldn't let it spill and go to waste now, could I?" He grins, swallowing the remaining coffee in the cup. You scowl at him.

"Relax, babe. I'll make you more," he assures you, caressing your cheek before tapping the end of your nose. 

"Don't forget the," 

"Pumpkin Spice creamer, I know," Noah says, and you smile as you turn around to finally face the man who fully has your heart. Jolly leans down and captures your lips with his, kissing you so softly, so sweetly that you find yourself melting against him. Suddenly, you want to wrap yourself up in him and stay there all day.

"A bonfire and the plaid blankets we bought yesterday outback later today? How does that sound?" 

Jolly leans down and kisses you again, this time with a little more force. 

"That sounds perfect, Joakim," you tease, your mouth curving upwards in a mischievous grin. You know how much it annoys him when you use his full name.

Jolly shakes his head, kneading your waist with his large hands, making you squirm beneath his touch. 

"You and your antics are going to get you into so much trouble," he murmurs, pushing harder into you. 

"Hmmm, what antics? I don't know what you're talking about," you lie, leaning your forehead against his chest. 

His hand lays heavily on yours, the one that's pressed firmly on his semi hard length. You grin, biting your lip, and look up at him. His expression is soft, yet the way he's staring at you as if you're about to be devoured by him has you swallowing hard and clenching onto his arm as you feel your knees buckling. 

"Those antics, min älskling," he whispers, kissing the end of your nose. 

Your entire face heats up and Jolly grins. 

"That color looks beautiful on you," he praises.

Noah clears his throat and you turn to look at him.

"Bad time?" he asks, holding your steaming hot cup of coffee. 

You can smell the pumpkin spice radiating off of it, and knowing that Noah never forgets anything you say, makes your heart happy. 

You roll your eyes, taking the cup from his grasp. 

"Shut-up, Noah," you chide him. 

His soft chuckle makes you smile as he shoots you a quick wink.

"Awe, I wanted the black and white one," you whine, protruding your bottom lip. 

"Alright, fine. Here, take it," Noah groans, tossing the large blanket at you. It covers up the entire front of your body, including your face when it lands on you. Noah busts out laughing as you pull the blanket from off your face, the static from it making your hair stick out. 

"You're such a jerk sometimes," you frown, rolling your arms up inside the warmth of the soft cotton and refusing to look up at Noah. He stands in front of you, squatting and resting his arms across your knees. 

"Don't pout. You're too pretty for that." 

He's charming you because he knows he's irritated you.

"I said one more log, not four Nick," Folio sighs to Nicholas, who has an arm full of wood. 

"Look, I'm just doing what the Jolly Green Giant over there told me to do. Don't shoot the messenger," Nicholas admits defensively, dropping the pile of logs in front of the fire pit before finishing his Capri Sun. 

Noah looks back at you and you both smile, laughing softly between one another. 

"Those two," Noah sighs, shaking his head. 

"Those two? What about you two?" 

Jolly makes his way over to you, laying his hand gently on your shoulder. His eyes are covered in dark sunglasses and his long, soft brown hair, usually down, is pulled back into a firm bun. His thin but strong arms, usually covered by long sleeves are bare, leaving the tattoos on his left arm on full display. He looks absolutely divine and you wonder if his offer from this morning still stands. 

"What about us?" Noah asks, looking up at his friend questionably.

"What, do you think I'm trying to convince your girl to run away with me? Maybe get married and punch out a couple of kids while living off the millions of dollars I've stolen from the band's bank account?" 

Your mouth falls open in shock, eyes wide while you try to suppress the laugh that's dying to escape. At first, Jolly doesn't say anything, and for a moment, you think that Noah's finally crossed the line with him. But then Jolly removes his glasses, and you're relieved to find a look of amusement gracing his beautiful face. 

"Dude, we don't even have millions in our bank account, so your plan is shit,” Jolly states, furrowing his brows in confusion.  

Noah stands up, rising to his full height which is a little bit taller than Jolly. 

"Really, Jolly? That's what you're worried about?" Noah playfully shakes his head. "I just threatened to run off with your woman and all you can think about is the millions of dollars we don't have in the bank?" 

Noah is the one scowling in confusion now, and you're just sitting there quietly laughing to yourself, wondering how in the hell this conversation was even happening.  

"Matt!" 

"What?" a voice that can hear you from the open windows, yells from somewhere inside the house.

"I need you! Your kids are acting up again!" 

"I'm not their fucking babysitter," Matt scolds sarcastically, walking out of the house with a can in each of his hands; one a Celsius and the other a Dr. Pepper. 

"Well, you are right now. Their fur is up and I refuse to get involved," you explain, pulling the blanket up around you. It's starting to get chillier and you're suddenly very cold. 

"Fuck that shit," Matt scoffs with a light chuckle as he sits down in the chair next to you. "I'm off the clock. They're your problem now." He looks over at you and grins, cracking open his Celsius. He curses the second it spills over his thigh. 

"Don't you dare," he orders you, hearing you snicker. You burst into full blown laughter, unable to hide your enthusiasm. 

"I'm sorry," you insincerely apologize, trying to catch your breath. 

Matt stands up and leans over you, threatening to pour his drink over top of you. You squeal, cringing with your hands up in defense, and begging Matt for mercy. Laughing loudly, he gathers your hands together with just one of his, holding them down until he's almost poured the cold liquid on you, but retracting it just in time. He places a quick kiss on your forehead before backing away. 

Sighing, you finally catch your breath and realize that both Jolly and Noah are looking at you skeptically. 

"What?" you shrug.

"You know, Noah, I think we both have it wrong. I don't think it's you I need to worry about. I think it's Dierkes," Jolly concludes in all seriousness. 

"I think you're right. Seems like your little lady is making the rounds," Noah suggests, bringing his hand to his mouth and staring at you quizzingly. 

You're no longer laughing, unable to tell if either one of them is joking. 

"You've got to be kidding," you groan, giving them both a skeptical look. "No way, absolutely no way, do you both think that Matt and I," but you pause the moment both of their faces brighten with wide grins. Noah’s the first to snicker, followed by the man who is supposed to be defending your honor, and together, their laughter fills the area surrounding you. 

"I hate you both," you growl, fighting hard to hide your smile once you've realized they're only joking.

"I'm sorry, baby, come here," Jolly croons. He closes the gap between you two, pulling you up until you're wrapped up securely in his arms, burying your face in the black fabric of his t-shirt. The soft caresses he trails up the sides of your neck as he raises your face to meet his breaks the chains of resistance and no matter how irritated you pretend to be, you can't resist the flirtatious attempt from the man holding you. Sighing, you reach up and wrap you arms around his neck.

"That's better. I don't like you being mad at me."

A quiet moan slips from the back of Jolly's throat, as he runs his hands down your backside, over your bottom, and lightly pushes you closer against him. The action has you bucking your hips which only encourages Jolly to squeeze your bottom a little harder.

"My offer from this morning still stands," he whispers against your ear, letting his lips fall to your cheek where he plants small, yet sensual kisses all over. Your heart begins to beat a little faster as you crack a small smile.

"I was hoping it did," you confess, rubbing your sex subtly against the erection growing against your belly.

You look up at Jolly admiring the shapes of his striking Swedish features and suddenly feel giddy. Jolly catches the faint sparkle in your eyes and his mouth twitches, giving you a half smile.

"You're shivering," he points out, running his hands up and down the sides of your arms.

Unknowingly, your teeth chatter together.

Jolly reaches down, taking the blanket Noah threw at you earlier, and wraps it around you. Instantly, the warmth spreads through your body and what it doesn't reach you find in Jolly's embrace.

"Come, sit," tugging you into his lap.

You fall into him, and he pulls your legs up, draping them over the sides of his, and holding you tightly against him. Snuggling into his chest, you take a deep breath and sigh, turning to look out over the bonfire at your friends. The four of them are happy, lost in conversation about life outside of the band and music. It's peaceful, relaxing, and for the first time in a while, you can all breathe slowly.

"Is this everything you had in mind, min älskling?" Jolly asks quietly, laying a gentle kiss on your cheek again.

"Yeah, it is," you tell him, with a slight yawn.

His hands manage to find yours somehow under the massive blanket and when they do, their fingers tangle with yours, completing the empty feeling you had.

The love you have for this man is unlike anything you've ever felt. Jolly completes you like nothing you thought ever could. And you know you do the same for him because he manages to show you every day that you mean the world to him. It's him. It's always been him.

"So, I know you and Noah have plans of running away together and all, but I was wondering if you could give me one more chance of convincing you why you should stay with me."

The tender tone of Jolly's voice has you turning around to face him, and when you do your lips almost collide. He's looking down at you with a longing in his eyes, one that is almost pleading. Something is on his mind and it's not Noah. You reach up and lay your hand against his cheek, feeling him lean into a little more as he closes his eyes for a moment and opens them just as quickly.

"You know Noah's just kidding, right? I would never, in a million years, leave you, my love," you assure him, sliding your hand around the back of his neck to bring him a little closer to you. Licking your lips, your eyes dart from his eyes to his lips then back to his eyes before placing your lips on his. The gentle way Jolly slips his tongue inside your mouth has you clenching your thighs together, and he doesn't like that. With one of his hidden hands, he forces them apart and lays it over your warmth, gripping your whole sex with just one hand, The move makes you gasp and bury your face in his shoulder.

"I know you wouldn't," he agrees with you, giving you a slight grin. "Reason number one being that this between your legs belongs to only me," dragging one of his thick fingers between your folds the best way that he can considering the fabric blocking much of his attempt. But it still feels absolutely divine.

"Yes, only yours," you mumble through a soft moan, biting your bottom lip.

"But I want to give you something, Hjärtat."

Jolly's serious now, and you catch the urgency in his voice. You look up only to find a hint of worry mixed with a little bit of fear.

"Jolly, what is it," you ask, more alert than before.

He huffs a slight laugh, dropping his head. After a few seconds, he lifts it and that's when you notice the tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. The sight makes you melt.

"My love, what is it," you ask quietly, placing your hands on the sides of his face and running your thumbs over his lips. He kisses them, then takes your hands in his own.

"I love you, you know that, right?"

His question throws you off and you frown in confusion.

"Of course I do. Jolly," you nervously laugh, having absolutely no idea where this is going, "what's going on? Why are you,"

"Marry me," he blurts out, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

You gasp, eyes growing wide as you throw your hands over your mouth.

"What?"

"Will you... marry me, please?" Jolly repeats, this time with a little more boldness.

Your heart is racing and you suddenly feel quite dizzy. Still seated comfortably in Jolly's lap, you can't hold back the tears that slip from your eyes and run down the sides of your face as you break out into a nervous chuckle.

"What? Are you sure? I mean, me? You want to marry me? I don't... I don't underst..."

Jolly shushes you by slamming his lips on yours, kissing you with so much emotion that it makes you cry a little harder.

"Just answer the question, Baby. Will you marry me? Yes or no?"

Jolly stares at you so calmly now and for the first time ever, you can actually see forever in his eyes. He's serious. He wants you. Forever.

"Yes! Yes, I will," you laugh, throwing, your arms around his neck.

Jolly scoops you up into him, holding you as tightly as possible in his arms as soft tears drip onto the skin of your neck. Now you know he loves you and feels about you, the same way you feel about him.

Retrieving something from his pocket, Jolly pulls you back and takes your left hand and separates your ring finger from the rest. He slips on it a simple silver diamond ring, nothing too big because he knows how much you hate big and flashy. It fits perfectly.

You look at one another, smiling, then just like before, you cuddle up into Jolly as he holds you tight and together you look over at the bonfire and the four guys who are now congratulating you with smiles and laughter. This is what your forever looks like, this is your home. It's perfect. And it's all yours. 

[hippiegoth97]

Cum On Feel the Noize: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by Me :)

Master List

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

Description: Robin brings you to see Eddie's band play. His performance blows you away, in more ways than one. After the show, you and Eddie have some fun on your own...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, swearing, female reader, fingering, praise/degradation, alcohol use, smoking, public sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4.6k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Cum On Feel the Noize

"So, what do you think? You wanna go to this tonight?" Robin says as she shoves a bright orange flier in your face. You take it from her grasp, looking it over. It reads: Corroded Coffin at the Hideout. 8pm 2nite. $5 cover. Be there, or fuck off! It also has some crudely drawn bats, skulls, and devils all around the border. A metal band. Great.

"You're sure this is how we should spend a perfectly good Saturday night? What happened to rewatching Sixteen Candles and stuffing our lonely faces?" You ask her. It's been your long-standing tradition every weekend to stick together in your singleness and lust over John Hughes characters.

"Yes! I think we need some variety in our friendship activities! Plus, the lead singer/guitarist is super cute. At least, for you he is. I'm still working on Vicki." She rubs her neck shyly at the last part. You take a moment to contemplate this idea. But all you come up with is more questions.

"Do you know him? Do I know him? And how cute are we talking?" You can't help but be a bit intrigued with whoever this mystery metalhead is that Robin wants to set you up with.

"His name is Eddie. He's really cool, I met him a while back and he's friends with a lot of my friends. And he's got long hair, tattoos, and he wears this nice, um, jean jacket." Your eyes go wide as Robin describes the man. You think you know exactly who she's talking about.

"You are NOT talking about Eddie Munson, are you? That creep, really? The one that always made a scene in the cafeteria? The DRUG DEALER? You think that's my type?" You toss the flier to the side, and cross your arms in defiance. You are sure there's nothing she can say to convince you to go to that stupid show to see that stupid band with that stupid man in it.

"Yes, I mean that Eddie. But he's not what you think! He's nice, and kind, and he's been a good friend to all of us. I can introduce you, and I swear you'll hit it off! It's guaranteed to happen! And besides, I've already told him we'd go and that he can talk to you and-" Robin explains herself, her words coming out in a manic fashion. You cut her off, you know she wouldn't babble on this way if she didn't fully believe in what she was saying.

"FINE! I'll go, dammit! Just shut up already! And there are NO promises that I won't smack him if he steps out of line!" You shout, crossing your arms stubbornly.

“Okay.” She nods in quiet agreement. 

"So, what the fuck does one wear to one of these things?" You ask as you go over to your closet. You and Robin spend the next couple hours perfecting your look. Teased hair, red lips, smudged eyeliner, check. Fishnets, a torn t-shirt, and a just-a-bit-too-short denim skirt, check. You debate on wearing heels as well, but decide on Converse as you'll be standing for a considerable amount of time. You want to potentially draw Eddie's attention, but you aren't going to wreck your feet for him. He has to prove himself worthy first.

Robin drives you both to the Hideout, a seedy little music venue on the edge of Hawkins. Old brick, holes in the roof, and a secondhand sound system, all pasted together by posters of rock shows past. Charming, you think to yourself as Robin puts the car in park. You both exit the vehicle, hearing the band has already begun their set. Robin curses you both being late. Oh well, this way Eddie can take notice of your arrival. You walk inside, giving the bulging man at the door the $5 cover. You make your way past some drunks clad in leather. You go to buy a couple beers at the bar, thankfully it's served in the bottle. You shudder to think what drinking from the glasses in this place might do to you. You pay, grab the bottles, and meet Robin at the back of the crowd. You hand her a one, which she quickly takes a swig of.

You both squish your way through sweating bodies and hairspray fumes, until you're smack dab in front of the stage. It's here that you see him in all his glory. And he's so much cuter than you remembered. The hair, the tats, the tight jeans and t-shirt. It worked so well on him back then, as much as you hate to admit it. And it sure as fuck works really well for him now. Robin was right, this was a good idea. He has yet to take notice of you, though.

Eddie's POV

You’ve taken small moments during the beginning of the set to search the crowd for Robin, and for Y/N. You’re a bit worried they won’t show up at all, as your band has played all your original songs already. You transition into the first of four covers you’d rehearsed for this evening, still waiting to see the girls. You figured Y/N would say no, telling Robin you were just the school freak. You’re nothing special to her. Oh well, you can just find some random chick to fuck later if you’re so inclined.

You almost set your sights on one when you see Robin push through the crowd and wave at you. You nod back as you continue to sing, at least she showed up for you. But then you see Y/N, breaching the sea of bodies behind her. Your breath stops for a moment, but you keep playing, not missing a single note. He has to keep his cool, but damn you've really dressed for the occasion. You look her up and down, smirking as her gaze meets yours. You drink in the sight of her, and that sexy outfit. That short skirt, the fishnets underneath, her bra strap peeking out from the top of her shirt. You want nothing more than to jump off the stage and run to her. You want to pull her close, and mess up all that pretty makeup of hers. Hell, you want to mess her up in general. And given how out of character she looks tonight, you know she'll be yours in an instant.

Y/N POV

Did he just check me out? You think to yourself. Of course he did, how could he not? You've dolled yourself all slutty for him, with the kind help of Robin. You just stare in his eyes, transfixed by him. He plays really well, but you wished you'd been here for the beginning of the show. He just keeps looking at you while he expertly plays on his guitar. His voice sounds sexy as hell, and he's singing the final song of the night to you now. It's like everyone else in the room disappears and it's just you and him all alone. You feel your cheeks heat up as Eddie's singing about sex while gazing into your eyes, winking at you. The words are so filthy, it’s having a very strong effect on you.

You suddenly feel so turned on, wanting to jump onto the stage and throw yourself at him. He seems to sense your arousal and proceeds to shred on a massive guitar solo. Every note he hits sends a shock to your core, you feel like he's put a spell on you. He's nearing the end of the song, going as hard as he can, and all you can do is watch him with wide eyes. You're almost panting, feeling the anticipation of the final note of the song building up. You have no idea how he's made you feel like this, it must be all in your head. Maybe you're just feeling the vibrations from the speakers, right? There's no way he can make you come undone by playing a song, that would be ridiculous. Or would it?

You squeeze your thighs together, unbearably close to losing control in front of everyone. He looks at you again, his smile so devilishly handsome. When he hits that final note, your knees buckle as you're rocked by an unexpected orgasm. You almost fall to the floor when Robin catches you.

Eddie’s POV

Holy shit, did I just make her cum? You think to yourself as Y/N falls to her knees once you hit the final note of your last song of the evening. Her eyes meet yours, wide and dilated with lust, Her mouth sits open as she rides out the orgasm you’ve given her. Your cock twitches inside your jeans, this has to be one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. It’s taking every ounce of your willpower to not get an erection while you’re up here on the stage. “Thank you, everyone! We have been Corroded Coffin, have a good night!” You shout out to the crowd, before bringing your guitar strap over your head and setting the instrument down. You jog off the stage, letting the guys know you’ll be a minute. You make a beeline for the bathroom, pushing the paint-chipped door open. You go over to the sink, running some cold water to splash on your face. You’re soaked in sweat from performing, and extremely hot under the collar from what you just did to Y/N. You didn’t mean to, obviously, as attractive as it was. But you suppose there’s a first for everything. “Jesus christ, this night is gonna be interesting.” You say to your own reflection, smirking at the thought of actually speaking to her, picking her brain about how good it was…Slow down, you’re getting hard again. You exhale deeply, puffing your cheeks. You give your face a couple good smacks, and head for the door. You imagine your friends are waiting for you in the green room. But first, some celebratory beers.

Y/N’s POV

"Are you okay?" Robin asks, seemingly unaware of what just happened to you. "Was it too loud? I know it can be pretty intense." She's worried, she really has no idea.

"Yeah, I'm fine. More than fine. Just drank my beer too quickly." You lie, embarrassed about having an orgasm from goddamn metal music. You take a moment for it to pass, regaining composure. You look up to see Eddie again, but he’s already left the stage. You wonder where he went, hoping your little experience hasn’t scared him off. Even more so, you kind of hope he’s flattered.

"Okay well, we can go to the back and sit with the band if you want. And you can finally talk to Eddie!" She wags her eyebrows at you suggestively. You laugh lightly, temporarily forgetting about what Eddie made you do. Robin holds your hand as you both walk to the makeshift green room. You see most of the band putting their instruments into carrying cases. But their frontman has yet to make an appearance. "Hey guys! This is my friend, Y/N. It's actually her first metal show, so please play nice!" She says as you both make your way to a tattered leather couch in the middle of the room. You take a seat, sinking into the cushions.

"No promises, Robin. You know I like it a little rough." Eddie quips from the doorway. His hands are full of beer bottles, one for everybody. He introduces everyone briefly as he passes the beers around. He winks at you again as he hands you yours. "So, this is the famous Y/N I've been hearing about." He bows to you playfully, reaching out his hand. You place your hand into his, and he kisses it, causing your skin to burn with lust. You gasp slightly, and he looks into your eyes, and winks again. He lets your hand go, and slumps right beside you onto the couch. "So, how was it, princess?" He asks as you're taking a swig of your beer. His phrasing makes you choke on it. He chuckles lowly and puts his hand on your back, patting gently to help you. "Oh come now, I'm sure it isn't your first time." Your gaze snaps to him, eyes wide. He knows exactly what he did. "You have had a beer before, right?" He smirks, clarifying himself. But you know damn well that he meant something else.

"Obviously. It just went down the wrong pipe is all." You brush off his innuendo. You have half a mind to move his hand off your back, but it feels nice. Gentle, warm, but suggestive. "But to answer your first question, I actually really enjoyed it. It's not my typical taste, but you guys were great up there, really." You say, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

"Well it certainly means a lot, getting such a glowing review from you, Y/N. Who knew that Little Miss Priss from homeroom would turn out so fun, huh?" He teases, moving his hand from your back to your shoulder, shaking it playfully. The others snicker a bit at that. Robin stifles a giggle.

"Hey! I was not a priss! I was just...focused." You reply, playing up your annoyance. He isn't wrong, but does he need to be so smug about it?

"You were so!" He retorts. "A sexy priss, but a priss nonetheless. It's nice to see you've grown a bit since then." He leans in to whisper in your ear. "And it's nice to see you focused on something other than studying for once." He leans back to his original position, still smirking as he does. Your cheeks flare up again, your whole body has slowly been simmering with all his touches and teasing remarks. It seems the others in the room are sensing the heat as well.

"Jesus, Eddie. Take it outside."  Gareth pipes up. "We have actual work to do before Ol' Vick locks up the place. We'll meet you at the van." The others nod in agreement.

Robin stands, offering to help. "I'll meet you at the car, Y/N. Don't do anything I wouldn't do! On second thought, that doesn't eliminate much!" She jokes. You stand to give her a hug. You mouth 'thank you' to her as Eddie leads you by the hand to the back exit. Most of the crowd has headed off for the night. Eddie acknowledges the bartender, before pushing the heavy door open, moving to hold it for you. It shuts with a slam, and you're both standing under the lone street lamp in the alley. It's cooler outside, but you still feel like you're boiling. It's so quiet, save for a few drunks blasting their car radio in the parking lot. You don't know what to say now. And Eddie seems stumped as well.

"So, uh..." You decide to break the silence. "Are we gonna talk about what happened earlier?" You say quietly. Eddie's silence leaves you unsure that he heard you at all. He takes his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, putting one in his mouth. He motions the box at you, offering you one. You nod, taking it from the box, and placing it between your lips. He reaches forward and lights it for you, and lights his own after. You take in a puff, exhaling shakily. You don't smoke often, but enough to not cough and look dumb in front of Eddie.

"Jeez, she drinks, she smokes, she dresses like the girl from my wet dreams. What don't you do?" He laughs, almost in disbelief. It seems clear he wants you to say what happened.

His last remark emboldened you. "Well, I don't usually have an orgasm from live music in front of everybody. But there's a first time for everything, I guess." You take another drag, your head falling to look at your feet. 

"I don't see why you're embarrassed. It's actually pretty hot." He says, you look up to see him much closer to you now. He reaches a hand up to brush your hair behind your ear. You blush again. "To think I have that kind of effect on you when I haven't even touched you yet. Christ, I had to try my damndest not to go rock hard on stage." Your eyes meet, and you see a mutual fire of lust. He slowly brings his lips to yours. You kiss him back, softly. Your lips move in sync for a moment, every move feels so good but also like not enough. The kiss becomes rougher, you've both dropped your cigarettes and tangled your hands into each other's hair. You turn him around and push him against the brick wall. He groans slightly at this, letting your tongue go into his mouth. He breaks the kiss, and you see your lipstick smudged all over his face. You giggle at the sight. "What so funny, Y/N?" He cocks an eyebrow.

"Nothing. Just my lipstick is all over you now."

"It's all part of my plan, sweetheart." He smiles.

"And what plan is that?" You ask tentatively.

"To absolutely wreck you before the night is over." He pulls you back to him, smashing his lips on yours. His hands move down your back to your ass. He squeezes it roughly, making you moan. "I'm really glad you wore a skirt by the way. It'll make things much easier." He says breathily. "Not to mention, it looks very sexy on you." He flips you around so you're against the wall now. He starts kissing your neck, his lips and tongue and teeth working the skin perfectly to form plenty of hickeys. You moan his name many times while he does this, tugging slightly on his hair as he nips at your throat. He groans, letting you know he likes that. He massages your breasts over your shirt, kissing what he can of your chest. You reach down and start palming him through his jeans. He moans into your chest, and lifts his face to meet your eyes again. "You’re so needy for me, sweetheart. You want me to make you cum again?" His ringed hand slips under your skirt, squeezing your thigh. You want him to go higher, to touch you where you need him most. But he stays put. "You gotta tell me what you want, darling."

"Touch me, Eddie. Finger me. Fuck me. Wreck me." You almost whine, begging him to do something, anything.

"You got it, princess." His hand goes between your legs, rubbing your clothed heat. He can feel your arousal through the fabric, and he kisses you while smirking. "You're so wet for me, you little slut." You moan at his words. "You like when I call you that?" You simply nod, and he chuckles. "Damn, you really aren't a priss after all." He uses both hands now to pull your fishnet tights and panties down to your ankles. He starts rubbing your slick folds with two fingers, slowly making circles around your clit.

"Oh, fuck. Eddie, more. Please." You beg. Every touch he makes feels like hellfire. He obeys your wish, slipping a finger in, curling it just so to stroke your g spot with ease. Another moan escapes you, your head pressing back against the brick wall. He attacks your neck again, hoping to draw more noises and dirty confessions from your lips. You feel a knot building in your belly, Eddie's touches tightening it more and more. "Add another one, please." You plead, and he obliges. You're palming his length again, hoping to gain some reaction from him. But he's too focused on you. Your moans and curses fuel his fire. He keeps thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy, his thumb begins rubbing circles on your clit. You almost scream at the combined sensations. "Eddie, oh fuck!" You feel the knot getting ready to snap, so close to the edge. Eddie stops and pulls his fingers from you. You glare at him, annoyed that he would deny you like this.

"Calm down, and open." He brings the hand from under your skirt to your lips. You open your mouth and he puts one of his fingers in. You suck it clean, moaning at the taste of yourself. He takes the other one in his own mouth, groaning at how sweet it is. "Fuck, you taste so good." He kisses you again, the taste of cigarettes and your cunt mixing together deliciously. You start fiddling with his belt, struggling to undo it on your own. He gently moves your hands and quickly gets it loose. He lets your hands return to position, you pull down the zipper, and slip your hand inside to grip his length over his boxers. He moans into your mouth, and you go under the boxers to truly feel him. You grasp him, pumping him inside his pants. He gasps slightly, breaking the kiss. "Jesus, Y/N. You're so hungry for my cock, aren't you?" He's breathing hard as you move your hand up and down, his forehead pressed against yours. You're both lightly slicked in sweat. You stop stroking him, giving him a chance to slightly lower his pants and boxers. His cock springs free, the head red and swollen. He's just as needy for you as you are for him.

You bend down slightly to pull one foot out of your shoe, pulling your panties and fishnets down. They dangle from your other foot, and you put your shoe back on. You pull Eddie by his jacket, crushing his lips with yours. He grips your waist roughly, his rings digging into your side. He lifts your skirt so the denim is bunched at your waist. He lifts you up slightly to wrap your legs around him, and you lace your arms around his neck to hold on. He strokes his cock through your folds slowly, mixing the wetness around. You both moan at this, but you want more. He needs to stop teasing you already. "Eddie, please. I'm ready for you, just fuck me. I need you." You whine. He grips your thighs firmly, and presses himself into you. Groans fall from both your lips as he slowly pushes his length in. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, and peppers some gentle kisses on your neck. "You can move now, Eddie." You state simply. He starts to pump himself in and out of you slowly, savoring the feeling of your velvet walls around him. "Go faster. Please?" You look into his eyes, on the verge of tears from how good it all feels. But you want him to wreck you, and fast.

"Of course, Y/N. I'm at your mercy." He snaps his hips once, slamming himself into your g spot. You moan loudly. He repeats the action, loving the noises he can draw from you. "Fuck, those noises you make could make me cum all on their own. You look so pretty like this. A total mess, and all for me." Eddie picks up the pace, pounding into you over and over, slamming you against the brick. Your moans fill the air, but you don't care if anyone hears you. You want everyone to know who you belong to. And you belong to Eddie, at least in this moment.

"All yours." You moan out, tears pricking your eyes. It's all so much, his lips, his cock, his words. The knot is fully tightened at this point, waiting to snap. "I'm so close, Eddie. Please don't stop." Tears are running down your cheeks from pleasure, ruining your makeup. He stops assaulting your neck to look at you.

"Me too, darling. You feel so fucking fantastic. Cum with me." He moans, lowering a hand to rub your clit again. You feel yourself lose control, making you scream his name. Your pussy clamps down on him, setting off his orgasm. Your legs shake in his grip as he lets the thick white ropes fill you up. His thrusts slowly come to a stop as you ride out your highs. He just holds you for a moment, still inside you. You both look into each other's eyes. "Fuck, princess. I really did a number on you." He chuckles, wiping a tear from your cheek. He gently pulls out of you, your collective cum dripping out onto the pavement. You both moan slightly at the sight. He puts your legs down, but they feel like jelly so you almost fall. "Whoa, I got you." He catches you, helping you steady yourself. He puts his cock away, and closes his pants, refastening the belt. He helps you bring your tights and panties back up, smoothing your skirt down over them. He steps back, looking you over. He's unsure of what to say now. "Well, I had a nice time. I guess Robin's probably waiting for you." He says casually, hands clasped behind his back.

"So that's it then? You're just gonna fuck me and dismiss me?" You feel used now, dirty.

"No, that's not what I'm trying to do." He sighs, pulling his hands down his face in slight frustration. "I just figured, you know. You just wanted to play badass for a night. You'd have the best sex of your life and then go back to normal." Is that really what he thinks of you? You just wanted to use him for a little fun and then leave him in the dust? He couldn't be more wrong.

"I don't know what the fuck gave you that idea! Did I say that, or did you just assume?" You're genuinely pissed now. You stare at him, eyes blazing with anger. You cross your arms. "You know, for a minute there, I actually liked you. And then you go and say that?” You scoff. “You're an asshole, Eddie." You turn to walk away from him, eyes burning with fresh, angry tears. You just want to find Robin and go home. He grabs your arm to stop you, turning you to face him.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just thought you wouldn't actually want to spend a lot of your spare time with a guy like me. You have a lot more going for you than I do. You're smart, and capable, you have the world at your feet. And I'm just an asshole who plays in a shitty rock band." He says, pleading at you with his eyes to understand. " Look, I shouldn't have assumed anything, that was wrong of me. That's just how this kind of thing usually turns out. One and done. But I'd really like to see you again, if I haven't already blown my chances. I really like you, I always have. I’d like to have a chance to really get to know you. But only if you let me." He takes your hands in his, stroking your fingers gently with his thumbs. It's so gentle and innocent. He really means what he's saying. You take a second to think it over, perhaps you've also judged him too quickly.

"I suppose I shouldn't have assumed you were just using me either. I really like you too. I guess I wouldn't be opposed to a real date." You say quietly. Your eyes meet again and you both smile at each other.

"Sounds like a plan, sweetheart." He smirks again, leaning in to kiss you. You meet him in the middle. The kiss is so much softer now, apprehensive almost. You're both a bit scared of what the future holds, but you're willing to take the risk if it means you'd have each other in it.

The end.

[lesbianslvt666]

Road trip? pt 3

College au!

Mean! athlete!Ellie x trying to stand up for herself! Kind of an art major?(f)reader lmao

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Content Warning: mentions of smoking, drinking, eventual smut, orgasm denial, fingering (r! receiving), minor boob worshiping (Ellie! Receiving), shower make out, a bit of angst if you look hard enough (just for a bit) r! don’t trust Ellie but Ellie is trying hard lmao, pet names (Angel, Babe, Baby, Princess, etc.) praising, mentions of oral (Ellie! Receiving), Ellie is so needy for you, she just wants you to want her as much as she does you… :((

If I missed anything pleaseeeee let me know

Btw, this is my first time writing smut, so sorry if this is absolute crap :))

Ofc not proof read

(Btw, I don’t know the credits of the photos I use for these, so if they are yours or you know who are these from, pls dm so that I can add them, thanks <3)

Synopsis: Ellie and you are roommates in your shared dorm, both in different majors, you ever see each other when it comes to be at the dorm, on parties or with Dina, your shared best friend. At first Ellie was nice, always kept to herself but never mean, until she got her first college girlfriend, everyone keep telling you how much she looked like you, including Dina. So when Ellie "cheated" on her ex, her reputation went from friendly reserved football player, to fuck girl, "I got all the girls" asshole, or so it seemed to you…

pt 1 pt. 2 pt.4

When we arrived to Portland, Jesse parked in a ban lot, paying beforehand.

"ladies, we arrived, they have showers with warm water and some groceries nearby, Dina and I...." he took Dina's hand "are gonna go to the showers cause she smelly."

Dina punched his shoulder

"shut up stinky, we'll be back, loves!" Dina said running back and forth, getting both, Jesse and her clothes.

"you wanna shower there or here? This shower don’t have warm water tho..."

Ellie was taking her clothes and putting them alongside a towel in a bag. I started to do the same

"I'll go with you" I opened the ban door, Ellie closed everything behind her.

"look they have a small diner there, we could go after showering?" Ellie pointed to her left, the diner was light up with warm and red colours.

I looked down at my feet. the ground crunched underneath my boots, Ellies footsteps blending with mine.

I trailed up to her hands, her tattooed arm holding her bag, flexing it. Ellie place back the bag that was falling off her shoulder.

"don’t be too obvious princess." her voice startle me.

"I don’t know what you are talking about." my eyes darted to the sky, my lips pursing and my eyebrows furrowed.

When we arrived to the showers Ellie arrived to the self-checkout. touching the screen with her slender fingers. she paid for 20 minutes in the shower.

"come on angel" she took my hand on her bigger one

"what do you mean come on?" her eyes darted to me, her tatted one that hold mine moved to the small of my back

"I am finishing what we started"

Her soapy hands roamed all over my body. I felt delirious, my mind having a hundred thoughts and none at the same time.

I could only concentrate on her hands, that where "washing me." touching and lingering for longer on different parts like my stomach, my hands, my neck.

but she was avoiding the places I most needed her.

"fuck Ellie please...." she looked at me, her eyes never leaving mine while she put herself on her knees. her face mare inches from where it was aching. She was looking up at me like she was so innocent, oh fuck… are we gonna do this?

"tell me babe, tell me what you need from me. I'll do it, I'll do it all…" her voice lingered all over me, embracing me like silk sheets all over my body.

Right after her raspy voice announced those words. her hands continued roaming all over my legs. her head resting itself on my right thigh while looking still up at me.

the water from the shower falling down my back.

"come one princess, use your words, I need to hear you, please..." her voice was becoming too much, her face was so close to my core. her hands now on my ass, roaming like she was going to go insane. "fuck Ellie, I… just do me, fuck me..." I needed her, but I couldn’t let her know.

I couldn’t admit it, I am scared, cause I knew I was going to fall hard, I was going to catch more feelings already…

Something seemed to change for her. like she snapped, her hands got all the way from my back to my waist, pulling me in. flushing our naked bodies together.

"mmmhh..."she let out a groan when it happened. I couldn’t contain the whimper that scaped my lips in reaction to it, she took that as an opportunity.

finally her lips where on mine, her mouth warm. shit… this is gonna hurt when it's over…

I couldn’t resist the urge. my hands flew to her arms, going up them. caressing her muscles, fuck if she wanted she could crack me in two, she could handle me as she pleased...

my legs started to cross, trying get some friction.

"that’s my job angel." her hands parted my legs. taking this opportunity to press me against the wall of the shower, pressing her leg between mine.

"come on baby, just a bit of relieve, don’t cum yet, that’s my mouths job..." I couldn’t even respond, for her lips where again on mine. the sudden movement made me jolt my hips, her wet skin making contact with my dripping cunt.

she took the moan that scaped my lips to insert her tongue on mine. my hands going to her breast whiles hers where on my ass, fuck this was too much, but not quite enough yet.

the frustration bubbled up my stomach, I couldn’t keep my sanity if she was going so slow. her kisses, her lingering touch, it was all torturous.

When she gave us time to breathe again I didn’t miss a beat. my mouth went straight to her left tit, I couldn’t resist, they were so precious, both in front of my face.

I looked up at her, I knew she wanted to

"make this about my pleasure." but oh she was enjoying herself so much, now she was the one grinding on my leg.

My hand moved to her other breast, squishing and massaging it, slowly first, she wanted me to suffer? I was gonna return the same energy.

When I felt her hips jolt I popped her tit put of my mouth. saliva connecting my red lips to her boob, moving to the next one, my hand now caught her previous loved tit.

this time, I didn’t stopped, going a bit more rougher, playing and twitching her nipple, she was now squirming. moaning my name…

I continued on her tits for the next few minutes.

and would've continue for longer if she didn’t practically snatched me out there.

her cleavage now covered with love marks, oh I wish for her to be really mine... yet, it seemed she like she really liked the view between her neck and boobs, for she went feral right away.

She went straight to kissing me again, lowering her hands between my legs. Finally!

The way she manhandled me, going a bit rougher than before… fuck! She started to place tight circles around my clit, not quiet touching it at first. The frustration building up on the pit of my stomach.

"Ellie, don’t be mean..." I managed to whisper on her ear, she bit my neck on response. and as a reply to my prayer, she inserted two fingers, my cunt drippy enough to let her in easily.

I bit her shoulder not wanting to scream too loud, she was going insane, and so was i.

Her fingers started to explore all my insides, finding that perfect spot, making my legs shake.

Ellie hold me with her free arm, stopping me from falling, I was so close...

"fuck Ellie, I am gonna cum..." her hand stopped, my eyes darted open, looking at her. as soon as I opened them however, she was placing herself on her knees again.

one of her hands touching her own needy cunt as soon as she got to see mine. the mess that she had created shimmer all over my legs, I bet you could smell it from afar.

"baby you looked better than I imagined, so pretty."

she touched my pussy slowly, taking her time admiring it while circling her own clit.

"tell me you want me YN, tell me you need me" she looked up at me… I cant. I shacked my head, why was she so mean like that? She knew that I had a thing for her since the biggening. she was nice, we had our thing, never anything formal.

then she had a girlfriend AND cheated on her. play with every girls heart at school, how can she ask me to give myself to her like that. That’s not fair…

Ellie stood up, looking at me now.

"I won't hurt you baby, let make you feel good angel please..." her voice now smaller, like she was afraid I might run out of the place. "twenty minute shower is over. please take all your belongings and exit safely."

a robotic voice sounded from outside the shower door. "I'll pay for five more minutes for you, I'll take other five for me on another shower." she left with her robe after that.

When I finished showering I changed inside of the shower room, why am I so weak? Now the road trip is going to be so uncomfortable.

I mean, if Ellie don’t make it weird I can swallow my pride, there is no need to make it awkward right?

When I went out of the shower. Ellie was waiting for me by the entrance, her head hung low, looking at her shoes that were kicking some rocks.

"I was thinking, if we don’t like the food from the diner, maybe I could cook something for us?" she said, trying to push the weirdness out the picture, almost like nothing happened.

however, her voice was lower than usual, and her eyes never met mine.

"great idea! I say... maybe we get to the dinner, check what's on the menu first?" her head moved to look around "where do you think the love birds might be?" she was now walking backwards while we went to the dinner. After that we talked a bit about the last semester and the finals that we had survived.

In the blink of an eye. Dina and Jesse where now back to us on the dinner, they were pretty giggly and happy, the fucked for sure. wish that could be Ellie and I... the dinner went smooth and funny. Dina and i always making the dumbest most inappropriate jokes. while Ellie and Jesse made the worse most dumbest dad jokes on the book.

My smile got bigger through the night almost forgetting what went on with Ellie. being with them always felt like heaven. laughter never ceased, smiles always plastered in our faces. the soft 70s music from the vintage dinner. the warm lights from inside making reflections on the big windows. where sometimes I could glance at Ellie pretending to look at the stars. oh how I wish these moments could be everlasting…

Walking to back to the van was a bit different, my the grabble underneath our shoes cracked, the music and the chattering from the people doing campfires involved me, my walk growing slower. I looked up to the sky, the stars where so bright and the night was just cold enough to chill the skin just a bit, I massage the palm of my hands to alleviate the goose bumps on my arms. "YN, YN" I saw Dina's hand come in front of me, waving it from my face, behind her, Jesse was catching the keys that Ellie threw to him with a firm swing. "sorry, what's up?" she rolled her eyes at me, following me with her eyes, trying to catch my gaze "I was asking you what was your final piece from this semester, I am still sorry I couldn’t get there to see it" she grabbed me by my arm, dragging me to the van.

"it was just a painting this time, some mix media on a wood panel" she groaned, frustrated "that I know of, I went with you to buy all the materials! I mean the final piece, when I arrived you had already sold it!" a smile adorned her face at the mention of my first big sell.

"oh, it was about unrequired love, pushing who you love in fear of getting rejected" I was looking out the window, didn’t realized Ellie sat down beside me.

"fuck YN, you always make either the saddest or most disturbing shit" Jesse was now sitting in front of me. "I love it" his smile grew wider. ever since high school when Dina met Jesse, he always wanted to see my paintings or sculptures before anyone else, he talked about how much he liked the feeling my paintings gave him, my number two fan, the number one was always Dina.

Right after that, both Dina and Jesse took off to "their" room, leaving both Ellie and I behind, "you want me to sleep on the passenger seat?" her eyes were down turned, a small frown adoring her beautiful lips. "nah, if you don’t make it weird, I won't either" she walked slowly to the couch, head hung low, sitting a good distance away from me. "wanna fix the bed then?" she asked not really moving, so I stood up. "sure, the bed sheets are underneath the couch, the duvet is beside my clothes, I'll get it" she just nodded.

It didn’t pass more than thirty minutes since we got in bed. she placed a pillow in between us, she was giving her back to the pillow, I was facing it. "you know… you are making it weird" I whispered, hoping she was asleep, to not really hear it. She moved, now facing the pillow too, her tatted hand taking it, gripping her hand, the veins jolting, she tossed it, groaning. "what the fuck do you want from me YN?" my eyes, lowered, I dint really knew myself… or did I? "what do you mean Ellie?" I could see her face from the moon light that entered form a small slit of the window blind her expression changed, her features softening, her eyes went a bit wide, like she just realized something "is it, like in your painting angel? You scared of the consequences? Scared of falling for me…" the last part coming smaller, way lower, like she was telling so to herself.

My eyes fell, my eyebrows furrowed, I hated her, I hated that she could read me. "I won't hurt you baby I promise." My hands flinched, coming to fist, I felt the sting of my nails on the palm of my hands. She sensed it, or saw it, didn’t knew at this point. She caressed my hand with her tatted one, slowly, ever so slightly touching me, like a feather, going upwards my arm, my body tensed, but my mind relaxed, she just felt so good… "tell me when you want me to stop…"her voice was low, raspy, I could see her pupils blown. "or tell me where you want me to go." her eyes falling to my lips, well… maybe being sad over the heartbreaker Ellie fucking Williams was a problem for future me right? I don’t know, certainly, I didn’t thought of any possibility, because as soon as she said that I changed our positions, I got on top of her, straddling her, her hands went straight to my hips, lowering me to almost touch her own crotch with my own heat.

She closed her eyes and exhale. "please princess, let me make you feel good" as soon as she said that her mouth attacked my neck, she lifted her body, taking one hand off my body to sit herself more comfortably, I was now sitting on her lap. Grinding slowly on her, I couldn’t bare how much I felt in that moment, my body was moving by itself.

Her mouth started to slowly suck small spots all over my neck, wet tongue slowly leaving a trail after every  love mark, I could feel her breath fanning my neck. She was taking revenge from the hickeys on her cleavage…

One of her hands squeezing my ass and the other one underneath my shirt, going straight to my tit, I wasn’t wearing no bra, and she knew since the dinner, cause I had caught her eyes on my nips.

She massaged every bit of them, her attack on my neck growing more needy, she was now humping, smashing her pelvis on my crouch, we both felt a great need of the other one. Some relieve from all the accumulated feelings.

She took of my shirt, not losing a second to attach her mouth on my other breast, I groaned at that, the feeling bringing more slick down to my core, my hand traveling to her hair, so soft, undoing her half bun, massaging her scalp, trying to bring her some comfort, she moaned at that. Can she take more care of herself?

After she felt like shed given enough attention to my boobs. Her face went up, looking at my flushed face, "please princess, can I make you feel good now?" she was giving me this bright doe eyes, underneath the submission I could see all the lust she was hiding, her hands never leaving my body, my own traveling all over her torso and breast.

"fine…" her hands instantly trailed down to my core, she hooked one of her fingers on my pyjama shorts, lowering then down, she grabbed me, manhandling me and tossing me to be flat on the bed, we both giggled at that, she took them off me, her body lowering now, kissing up my leg…

Her face so close from my heat, I propped myself on my forearms to look at her, her eyes opened wide, her smug smile appearing. With one of her fingers, she touch slowly up my clothed cunt, never really pressing were I needed her. I let out a groan of frustration. "stop teasing…" she looked up at me, with a full smile, "baby, you are so wet, look at you… such a mess" she said, palming my ruined cunt.

My head hung back, the feeling of her cold hand on top of my hot pussy sent an electric shock, I felt the electricity up my spine, curbing it in.

she took this opportunity to take off my panties, the lack of her contact took me back, looking at her, but before I could plead for her too touch me again, she took my panties up her mouth, kissing the wet patch in them, then taking her tongue out, and savouring my arousal.

This took me by surprise, I opened my mouth to tease her, in that moment she took of her shirt, her small tits in front of my face. I could only moan at thar.

Hooking my finger in the waist band of her grey sweats, I bring her close to me, smashing messily our mouths, attaching my hands to her tits, massaging them. "fuck you are good at this" she groaned on my mouth.

After like an eternity of kissing, she separated from my mouth, s string of saliva connecting us still, she had saliva running down her chin from the last make out. "can I princess?" she looked at my eyes and then down to my cunt. "can you what angel?" I asked her, the nickname making her smile so big that her eyes closed, her cheeks glowing a rosy colour "can I please eat you cunt?" she said now, like she was asking for something so innocent. "yes Ellie, please touch me, make me feel good" before I finished my sentence, her mouth went running towards my sopping pussy attaching her mouth there, sucking my clit like a starved woman, the simple sight of her doing this was enough to make me squirm, she looked just so pretty, closing her precious eyes while eating me out.

Her strong and veiny arms holding my tights from closing, giving her enough space to bury her face in my creamy cunt.

She inserted her tongue in my entrance, moving skilfully around it, I had to take the back of my hand in between my teeth to stop me from creaming too much.

"Ellie please, can I come?" I don’t know why asked for her permission, it just felt the right thing to do, and I was, for she separated momentarily form me, "of course princess, if you ask so politely" she went back to devouring my cunt, inserting one finger, Didn't had time to hide my moan this time, thank you universe for Dinna cannot sleep without music!

She started to go fast, massaging the velvet walls from inside my pussy, she herself almost coming at how hard I was clenching on her finger, the warm of my pussy mixing with my arousal that was dripping from her wrist and her chin, she separated her mouth from my pussy, inserting another finger and circling my clit with her other hand, I grabbed by her chin, bringing her close to me, kissing her hard again.

I came on her hand, biting her shoulder again, I know I marked there, she looked down to my cunt, a creamy ring on the button of her fingers. "fuck YN, such a good girl for me, doing so, so good, just how I like it…"

She continued hammering my pussy way after my high. "tell me when It gets too much baby, I'll stop till then" her hot mouth on my ear, licking my earlobe, the over stimulation getting to much, her mouth lowering to leave even more marks on my neck. "Ellie… too much…" where the only words I could mutter, she let her hand out of me slowly, making sure to be gentle to my body.

"let me return the favour ells…" it was my turn. "not today princess, let me get you cleaned." she tried to get out of bed but I grabbed her hand. "pretty please?" I tried giving her my biggest doe eyes, I really wanted to taste her, feel her again, my body missing her already.

she sat on the bed. "please what angel?" she said taking my chin on her hands, slowly traveling down to my neck. "please sit on my face?" I don’t know where the boldness to say that came from, but it surprised Ellie…

"are you sure about this baby girl?" she said, completely naked now, straddling my face, her cunt was mare inches from my mouth, the view from here was to die for. Her beautiful pussy was so wet she was dripping down her thigh, so pretty. "yes Ellie, I need to taste you…" and taste her I did.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith kind of feels like he’s breaking the law when he steps on the marina.

He’s not, of course. The docks are open to the public, and he is The Public. Well, one of them, anyway. But looking at the myriad of speedboats and yachts parked (parked? Is parked the right word? God, Keith doesn’t know shit about boats), Keith is getting a little nervous. He feels like his shitty credit score is tattooed on his forehead, like a honing beam of judgement for the various rich people he can see drinking on their luxury boats at eleven in the morning because none of them have jobs. What the hell is Lance doing inviting them all on a ‘boat trip’, anyway? Lance sure as shit can’t afford a boat. He probably can’t afford to rent one, either. Keith once witnessed him pay for a single pack of ramen with a ziploc bag of pennies.

Keith stops at the parking spot (??) Lance texted him, glancing down at his phone, squinting, then back up at the boat at spot 93. It’s a decently large boat, but not equipped to live on. It doesn’t necessarily look like a party boat, but not like it’s for fishing, either. It looks, to Keith, like a decently nice boat. Probably a few ten thousand dollars.

Did Lance steal this fucking boat?

No, right? Lance isn’t good at stealing. Well, he’s not good at not getting caught. He’s shit at lying and usually just bats his eyelashes until he gets his way. He’s not even that successful at it. Certainly not successful enough to flirt his way into boat ownership. Probably. There was that time he flirted his way out of a speeding ticket, but still, a boat? That’s —

“Keith! Keith! Hi! Over here!” Keith startles at Lance’s voice, craning his neck over to try and see over the bow of the boat. He knows that tone of Lance’s voice — he’s definitely leaning over something and waving like a lunatic, beaming brightly, brown eyes squinted in his enthusiasm.

“Lance?” Keith calls, smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Where are you?”

“Behind you, dummy! Turn around! You got the wrong boat!”

Keith whirls around, yelping as he slips in a puddle and his stupid flipflops — he knew he should have ignored Shiro and worn his boots — slide out from under him. He windmills his arms to no avail, landing flat on his ass.

Lance hyena laughs, because he is a horrible jackass who thinks Keith’s pain is funny.

Resisting the urge to roll off the dock and drown himself in the marina (if only because he can see some really long seaweed growing in the water and the idea of it touching his legs or something makes him want to throw up) Keith pulls himself to his feet.

“Let me up,” he grouches.

Lance wipes a fake tear from his eye, tossing down an honest-to-god rope ladder. “Oh, that was the good stuff. Hey, buddy, do you maybe want to trip again? I could use the laugh.”

“I’m gonna strangle you with this rope the second I get up there.”

“Mhm. Sure, Mullet. Mutiny your captain.”

“Ha!” Keith swings his legs over the side of the boat, pulling it up after him. “You’re no captain, you dork.”

Lance sticks his tongue out at him. “Am so! My boat, after all.”

Keith accepts Lance’s hug, squeezing back just as tightly. Lance’s hugs are always tight. He hugs like he’s seeing you for the first time in months, like he won’t see you again for ages, like he’s saying it’s-good-to-see-you and hello-goodbye and I’m-going-to-miss-you all in one. It’s intoxicating. It makes Keith want to hold him for eternity.

“Having a boat does not make you a captain,” Keith teases, forcing himself to pull away and act like a normal person. “How’d you get this piece of shit, anyway? No offense.”

Because this boat is kind of a piece of shit, especially compared to the one he was mistakenly in front of earlier. It’s not, like, falling apart or anything, but it’s a little rusty in some parts, and a whole heap smaller. He can stand at one end of the boat and walk maybe fifteen steps to the other end, straight across. The end he’s on has a cooler — filled with booze if he knows Lance, and he’d like to think he does — and some crates of what Keith can only assume is boat equipment (again, Keith doesn’t know shit about boats). The other end has the steering wheel, and dozens and dozens of pillows and blankets at the base of it. The inner walls of the boat have several cute paintings, ranging from silly doodles that are painted with the confident hand of a child and beautifully intricate landscapes.

Lance smiles again when he sees where Keith is looking, running gentle fingertips over a blocky drawing of some imagined creature.

“Veronica got this project boat with her ex girlfriend forever ago,” he explains. “It didn’t work when they got it. It didn’t even have an engine. She’s been rebuilding it forever, and I’ve been helping!”

Keith grins. “You mean you’ve been handing her tools and running errands?”

Lance glares. “I — did other things! I painted it!”

“That’s true,” Keith admits. He glances at the many paintings again, colourful and bright and dorky. “They’re nice.”

“Nice,” Lance scoffs, but there’s no hurt in his voice. “This boat could be in the Louvre!”

Keith has to physically shove down the gooey shit he wants to say to that. It’s not easy. His brain is annoying.

“Where’s everyone else?” he says instead. “I’m never the first person to these things.”

For the first time since Keith arrived, Lance starts to look a little troubled. “I was going to ask you that, actually. Hunk said he and Pidge were going to meet up at your’s and Shiro’s house? And Allura and Shiro have barely spent a day apart since they started that project at work, so I figured she was coming with you guys.”

“I thought the team was meeting up with you,” Keith says slowly. “Shiro left before me.”

For the briefest of seconds, Lance’s face collapses into something absolutely crestfallen. Just as quickly it shutters, and his eyes dull as he physically forces a pleasant look on his face.

“I’m sure they’re on their way,” he says. “I’ll call them, maybe they —”

Something uncomfortable begins to churn in Keith’s stomach. “Lance —”

“—hopefully they’re all okay —”

“Lance, maybe —”

“Hey, Lance!”

Pidge sounds downright giggly, which is beyond unusual. Keith can’t remember the last time he described Pidge as giggly. Maniacal, sure, sweet even — occasionally, Keith might add — but never giggly.

Immediately he’s suspicious.

“Hey, Pidge,” Lance says. There’s so much hope in his voice that it’s painful to hear. “You on your way over?”

There’s rustling over the phone, and a muffled hey, no pushing!, then some more rustling.

“We actually can’t make it,” someone says apologetically.

The crestfallen look is back on Lance’s face, and this time he can’t quite fight it off.

Hunk continues, totally oblivious. “This huge thing came up at work, so me and Pidge are swamped, and we figured if we couldn’t make it then it wouldn’t be a whole crew thing, so Shiro and Allura figured it would be best to finish their project too —”

“That’s fine,” Lance says. His voice is reedy. He hangs up in the middle of Hunk promising to reschedule sometime soon. The muffled bang of his phone hitting the wooden floorboards is deafening, a million times louder than the waves beating softly up against the side of the boat. Keith is completely frozen where he stands, looking at Lance with wide eyes.

What the fuck was that? Never in the time that he has known them has any one of his friends been so…callous. He’s spent his whole life measuring himself to Shiro’s example, for fuck’s sake. He’s always been proud to have friends as good as his, because they are good: good friends, good people. Sure, they’re all a little weird and scatterbrained and all over the place, but they’ve never blatantly blown someone off before. Especially not Lance; not when he’s been planning something for them for weeks. He’s hardly talked about anything else, even if he wouldn’t tell them any details so as not to spoil the surprise. He practically glowed every time he had the chance to bring it up, and that’s not just Keith’s opinion.

“Lance,” Keith tries, walking over to where he stands, motionless at the helm. He doesn’t so much as twitch at Keith’s voice, as if he doesn’t hear him. “Lance?” Keith tries again, hesitantly putting a hand on his arm. Lance startles at the touch. He looks lost for a moment, then he plasters that same plasticly pleasant look on his face.

“Lance,” Keith says again, for the third time in a row. It’s pleading, this time. Please don’t pull that with me.

But Keith doesn’t have the words for that, so Lance doesn’t hear it.

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind taking this trip with just you,” Lance says, puffing out his chest in that bravado way of his he does when he’s trying his hardest to be obnoxious. “I mean, the stink of your mullet is a little suffocating, but I think I’ll manage.”

Beginning to feel like a broken record, Keith says his name again. He can’t quite keep the hurt out of his voice, for Lance and for him, really. It feels almost like a betrayal, like everyone would let then down like this, without so much as a word of apology. He can’t imagine how upset Lance must truly be.

“Unless you have somewhere to be, too?” Lance says loudly, cutting him off. His expression hasn’t changed, but there’s something almost pleading in his eyes, like he’s begging Keith to drop it, to take the bait, to change to subject.

Keith is most definitely reading into things. But he changes the subject anyway.

He raises an eyebrow, decking Lance in the shoulder. “I’m not the stinky one, Mr Axe Body Spray.”

“I have never used Axe in my life!” Lance shrieks, incensed. Some genuine incredulousness bleeds into his voice, which is both relieving and gratifying — it’s good to know that Keith can rely on his ability to rile Lance up in one sentence. “It’s a tasteful designer cologne that Rachel gets me for Christmas every year because she has no idea how to buy presents for people!”

“Yeah, that you fuckin’ bathe in.”

“I put a little bit on my wrists and neck, you jackass —”

“— and your arms and legs and face and hair and —”

“I am going to shove you overboard to be eaten by orcas, you shithead.”

“Yeah, yeah. You gonna take me on this boat ride you promised, or are you gonna keep stalling?”

Rolling his eyes and grumbling, Lance starts the engine, clumsily guiding the boat out of its parking spot (?????) and starting out to open sea. After sailing them far enough that they nearly lose sight of shore, Lance kills the engine, dragging the cooler over to the nest of pillows.

“I bought half the liquor store,” he says, voice muffled as he ruffles through it. “You see, the original intent was to get all six of us plastered, and getting Hunk plastered is both difficult and expensive.” He sounds a strange mix of bitter and amused, which Keith feels is understandable. He finally finds what he’s looking for, bottles clinking as he yanks two out. “I hate vodka, and since Pidge isn’t here to clown me for it, I’m drinking this entire bottle of bellini instead. I brought you scotch, since you are the soul of an angsty cowboy trapped in the body of an annoying nerd.”

Keith takes the offered bottle. He recognises the brand — it’s cheap, it’s gross, and it’s fucking concentrated. He takes a swig and gags.

“Lance, this shit tastes like gasoline.”

He bottle of something hits him in the chest, hard.

“Ow!”

“Gatorade! I thought ahead!”

Sure enough, Lance has thrown — rudely — to him a half litre bottle of red Gatorade, Keith’s favourite.

“It’s double smart, because not only does it make alcohol taste less shit, but it’s got electrolytes so you won’t get a hangover.”

Keith tilts his head questioningly. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“Works for me,” Lance says, shrugging.

“Yeah, but you get drunk off two shots, twig boy. Fuck, you’re already tipsy and you’ve only had a third of that bottle.”

“And this bottle was only eight dollars! Hell yeah to me!”

Keith snorts, clinking his bottle with Lance’s and taking a swig, chasing it down with the Gatorade.

He makes a face. Unfortunately instead of making the scotch taste better, the scotch is making the Gatorade taste worst. Ugh.

“Oh, hey, I almost forgot the music! I brought your favourite album too, emo boy.”

Lance scrambles to his feet, tripping immediately on one of the many pillows. Keith surges forward, thrusting his arm around Lance’s chest, barely keeping him from faceplanting on the floor.

“Jesus, Lance. You’re the worst lightweight I’ve ever met.”

Lance giggles. The tension that had strung his shoulders after the call as melted away, at least a little. Keith doesn’t even feel the buzz of the alcohol yet, but he’s definitely feeling a little looser.

“How about you sit down, huh? You’re gonna fall on your face. Did you eat today? You don’t usually get this tipsy so easy.”

Lance squints, thinking for a minute. “Fuck, no. I made myself eggs this morning but then Sylvio was late to ballet and Lisa had already left to take Nadia to football so I had to take him and by the time I got back I barely had enough time to pack everything and get to the boat and —”

“Lance,” Keith interrupts, amused. “Get some of the food from the cooler. I’ll get the music. Where’s all the stuff?”

“Second crate,” Lance says, mouth full. Gross. “The one with the Moana stickers.”

Keith takes another swig of scotch, makes a face, and then sets it down, ambling over to the box. Between the waves gently rocking the boat and the slight heaviness of his limbs that he’s starting to feel, he barely makes it without tripping just as much as Lance would have, but hey. He successfully conned Lance out of picking the music, so who’s the real winner here?

“Lance, you pretentious indie dweeb!” Keith exclaims, laughing. In the box is a bright pink Bratz CD player that he no doubt stole from the back of one of his sister’s closets, and a stack of maybe forty CDs.

“Physical media rules!” Lance cheers. “Fuck subscriptions!”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Keith locates the album Lance was talking about, loading it into the disc drive and pressing play.

The future is bulletproof, the aftermath is secondary…

He carefully nudges up the handle, trying carefully to walk with the waves so he doesn’t drop Lance’s player as he brings it back to the pillow nest.

“I think you’re actually just too broke to afford Spotify, dude.”

Lance shrugs. “Eh, that’s part of it.” He tosses the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth, washing it down with another gulp of bubbling peach wine right from the bottle. Keith follows his example, making a face again, because Lord above the Gatorade does not help at all.

“Yeah? What’s the other part?”

“You sure you want to know?” Lance asks, setting down his wine and scooching closer to Keith. He crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap, leaning forward, dark eyes wide and expression serious.

Keith nods, intrigued.

Lance’s eyes turn mischievous. “Well, you see, my favourite music is garbage pop music.”

Keith has been in the car with Lance before. He’s well aware. He’s heard more Kesha and Justin Bieber than any one person should ever have to, and he even likes their music well enough. Lance is just insane.

“Believe me, I’m aware.”

“And as you may also be aware, I am contractually obligated to be the most annoying person in any room.”

Keith snorts. “Okay?”

“Think about it, doofus. When I pull out the CDs, all the pop lovers roll their eyes, because they think I’m a pretentious indie asshole.” He gestures to Keith, referencing his earlier comment. “Exhibit A.”

“…Fair. Carry on.”

“But when whatever badly dubbed party music I’m in the mood for starts blaring from my speakers, all the indie people think I’m a poser! It’s a win-win.”

Keith laughs outright. He knows the exact kind of indie people Lance is talking about, and just imagining their scandalized faces is funny.

“No one pisses people off quite like you, Lance McClain. I’ll give you that.”

Lance preens. “Thank you. It’s a gift.”

They work their way through their respective bottles, and then they split a cooler, both of them well past tipsy by the time the album ends. Lance wobbles over to his CD selection and ruffles through for what feels like ages, whooping when he finds what he’s looking for. He flashes to case at Keith, showing ‘KARAOKE TUNEZ’ written in Lance’s loopy handwriting.

“No way,” Keith protests, although not very hard.

“Yes way!” Lance insists. He grips onto the steering wheel, heaving himself up. The boat lunches slightly, making them both laugh, but finally he’s steady on his feet — or at least as steady as you can be while drunk — just as Taylor Swift’s Love Story starts blaring. He grabs Keith’s hands and pulls him up, and both of them almost go tumbling again, but they manage to stay upright, leaning on each other and laughing themselves stupid.

“We don’t need them!” Lance yells as the banjos go off. Keith is so plastered that he barely remembers who Lance is talking about. It takes him a solid thirty seconds to remember that there were supposed to be four other people on this boat, drinking all this booze, and Keith and Lance have plowed their way through a good half of it on their own. Oops. “Sing louder, country boy!”

Keith does. He sings himself hoarse, actually, as Lance’s mixtape clicks through every great song from the last forty years, dancing around and shaking his head and revelling in the fact that there’s no one there to watch him. No one but Lance, who’s pretending to throw dollar bills at him.

It’s the most fun he’s had in ages.

He stops drinking at some point — not by choice, but something bumps the side of the boat and his bottle goes flying — but by then it doesn’t matter. He’s so plastered that everything is glowing and warm and fantastic and he’s dancing with Lance and he can’t remember what feeling bad looks like, or why he’d even bother in the first place. All he cares about is watching the sun go down, cheering with Lance as it does, then dancing around with him in drunken circles until one of them trips, dragging them both on top of the pillow next in a giggling mess.

“Let’s just stay here for a while,” Lance suggests. His voice is so slurred that it sounds more like Lez jussay ere for whi’, but Keith thinks he’s got it. “The stars are nice.”

Keith snorts. “Sure. Stars. Not because you can’t stand, or anything.”

“I can so stand!” Lance protests, but he’s laughing too much for any true argument to come through. “Lemme — I’ll show you!”

“Sit down, dumbass,” Keith says, grabbing his shirt and yanking him back down. “You’re gonna go overboard and drown. Just — lay back with me a while.”

Lance looks at him a while, squinted look fading into something more open and relaxed the longer he stares. The lights on the boat are dim, but the darkness around them is so deep that they get swallowed up. Under the stars, Lance’s eyes are so brown and glossy they’re black, blacker than the ocean. Keith feels there’s a bigger danger drowning in them than in the sea.

“Okay,” Lance says softly. There’s a flash of his teeth as he smiles. Keith watches as his silhouette flops backwards on the pillows, arms resting in a heap around his head, beat-up pink converse slapping the ground as he relaxes his legs.

Keith takes a few more seconds to look at him. There’s not much to see, illuminated by the tiny lights in the boat, but Keith takes a moment anyway.

A hand shoots up, very narrowly missing smacking him straight in his nose. Long fingers curl tightly around the collar of his loosely-buttoned shirt and the next thing he knows he’s being yanked down, yelping.

“I’m not lying here alone, Mullet-head. This is a party.”

“Yeesh, okay, I’m coming.”

Lance doesn’t say anything more, bar a quiet huff of amusement, as Keith settles next to him. They lie in silence next to each other, their earlier energy slowly cooling down, just watching the stars, rocked by the gentle waves.

Keith is out like a light in twenty minutes.

———

When Keith wakes, three horrible things hit him at once: his head pounds, his mouth tastes like rotten fish marinating in dog shit, and everything around him is so, so goddamn bright it honestly feels kind of targeted. Fuck the sun.

“Lance, I hate you,” Keith mumbles, because he feels like blaming Lance is a safe bet. He squints until he locates the asshole in question, who is curled up with all of the pillows — which explains why Keith is currently laying on the cold hard floor — and still sleeping peacefully.

Ugh. How dare he.

Cursing, Keith drags himself to his feet, having to pause for a while on his knees to orient himself and fight down the nausea. When he’s finally upright, he stumbles over to the cooler, thankfully still cold, and gulps down the first water bottle he gets his hands on in three seconds. His next bottle he drinks a little more carefully, swishing the water around his mouth to substitute for brushing his teeth until they can get back to shore.

Once he actually starts to feel like a person again, complete with rational, semi-linear thought process, he looks around himself with fresh eyes. They’re a lot… farther out than he thought they were, but he figures everyone feels like that once the shore is out of eyesight. They can’t be too far, the boat’s gas tank isn’t all that big. They don’t seem to have lost anything overboard while drunk and dumb, which is good. He sees all three crates from before they left, and the cooler is obviously still here. Lance is still actively hogging every single one of the pillows, a couple blankets as well, totally dead to the world. Keith checks his phone, noting with a sigh of relief that he still has about half battery life, and it’s not even that late in the day — ten o’clock; plenty of time to ride home and recalibrate before work tomorrow. All is well.

He finishes his second water bottle, tossing the empty plastic back into the cooler for lack of other places to put it, and stumbles back over to the helm and the pillow pile.

“Lance,” he tries, poking him half-heartedly. “Time to wake up.”

Lance groans, grabbing one of the numerous pillows and shoving it over his head.

“Oh, come on. It’s ten in the morning. You’ve had a ton of time to sleep. Time to go home.”

“Keith, fuck off.”

Keith will deny the automatic quirk of his lips at Lance’s gravelly, sleep-heavy voice, along with the immediate and reflective satisfaction that bubbles up when Lance is annoyed.

It’s his own brain. He’s allowed to think and feel whatever the hell he wants in his own brain, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.

“If you get up now, I promise to let you have first pick of the leftover sandwiches.”

There’s a pause, considering, and then a long, drawn-out groan as Lance bitchily unburies himself from the pillow pile and crawls over to the cooler.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Keith mutters, grinning.

It takes Lance’s zombie ass twice as long as it took Keith to wake up, because Lance is the most vampiric person Keith knows. The only time he ever sees the sunrise is when he just decides not to sleep through the night. Keith doesn’t think he’s woken up before eleven in years.

“Ready to head back?” Keith asks, once some of the life has returned to Lance’s eyes. He only grunts in reply, but that’s not a huge surprise. It’ll be another forty minutes until Lance can make himself speak again.

Keith settles against the side of the boat, rearranging the pillows so he can sit comfortably and dick around on his phone while Lance steers them back to shore. There’s no signal this far out, so he just ends up switching between cleaning out his camera roll and playing Temple Run as discreetly as he can, because he and Lance have a lowkey competition going on for this game for the past three years now, and Keith will not lose. Lance may currently have the upper hand but not for long, baby, because Keith has —

“Shit,” Lance says, very very quietly, and Keith feels dread pool in his stomach like a rock.

“Lance?” he questions, and inconspicuously as possible. “All good?”

“Fine,” Lance says, only his voice sounds very high-pitched and not fine, because Lance is a garbage liar. “Everything is manageable. No need to worry.”

Keith abandons his game, looking up to give Lance his full attention. He’s got one hand white-knuckling the steering wheel, despite the calmness of the waves, and the other jamming a bunch of buttons on a little device. His face is grey in panic.

“Lance, tell me what’s wrong.” He tries his best to keep his tone even and calm, but it doesn’t go well. The panic wells up in him and it wells up fast, because he can see nothing but blue skies and sea and the captain of the goddamn boat he’s on is looking like he’s on death row.

“Well, it’s all fine, really, but the thing is that the GPS is doing its level best to tell us where we are and it’s having a bit of a moment. A struggle, if you will. Honestly not that big of —”

“Lance,” Keith interrupts, sealing back the bile in his throat, “please tell me we’re not fucking lost.”

Lance laughs, high-pitched and humourless and scared. “Sure,” he says, once he’s gotten ahold of himself. “I won’t tell you.”

[minihotdog]

Captive - Eric Coulter x OC Eden Rossi

Chapter 1: Where Am I?

Chapter 2: The Ghost From Amity

t/w: death

"Eden, go help your father in the field. I'll let the two of you know when dinner is ready" I let go of my mother's dress and run out into the fields. The endless flow of wheat towering over. I follow the voices of my neighbors telling each other tales as they work.

"Eden, you came to join us, didn't ya?" Uncle Josh says to me with his permanent lopsided smile.

"Momma said I have to help y'all till dinner time, I think she's mad because Sam and I broke somethin' when we were playing hide and seek."

"That's alright then, you can come pass the time with us till she cools off."I look around and the townsfolk for my father, his kind eyes and thick black beard nowhere to be found.

"Where's pops at? Momma said he was out working the field."Uncle Josh lets out a frustrated sigh, "He headed out to the outskirts. Dauntless wanted to have a little talk with him, pro'lly gonna steal more of our grain and leave us hungry for the winter. Ol bastards!"

"Why didn't he tell momma?"

A concerned look flashes on Uncle Josh's face, "You know how she gets when the other factions come knocking. He pro'lly didn't want her to worry."He looks off in the distance towards the gates separating Amity from the miles of nothing between the other factions. "You don't go running and telling her, alright."

"Yes, sir! My lips are sealed."

A loud blast from the distance. I cover my ears trying to suppress the frightening noise. The birds fly away from the trees in all different directions.Uncle Josh grabs my hand and we start running through the hills leading to my house. He's running so fast I almost can't get a foot on the ground.The house finally comes into view, I see my momma standing outside yelling out to us.

"Go inside and don't come out till I say!" She yells at me.

"What the hell was that?!" I'm listening to her and Uncle Josh talk, eavesdropping from the hallway leading to the kitchen.

"Now, Evelyn." He sounds nervous, "You know Dauntless keeps asking us for more than we can provide." He's standing in front of her with his hat in his hands.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" She's almost at his neck with anger, "You tellin' me my husband's been meeting with 'em behind my back?!"He's trying to get a word in but she doesn't let him even catch his breath. 

"Explain to me what that noise could have been, what part of talkin' is that?!"

"He said that he could handle them and tell 'em that we can't give them more than what they are being rationed. They agreed to come unarmed this time and talk."

"UNARMED!? They've come armed and the two of you didn't bother to tell anyone!?"

The sound of footsteps comes closer, digging into the gravel. The voice of my oldest brother mixed with heavy breathing shoots through the house.

"Momma! Dauntless is comin' through the gates!" He falls apart, and I hear the gravel shifting. "They killed Poppa!" His screams shake the house.

~~~~~

I jolt awake, covered in sweat. My heart pounding through my chest. The stress slowly being replaced by the deep sadness that usually sits in its place.

“Eden Rossi.”

A deep voice fills the unfamiliar room. 

I turn towards the voice, sitting up on the rock-hard surface, just a thin layer of cushion separating me from the concrete slab. 

The man sitting on a metal chair just inches from the bed twirls a plastic card in his fingers before holding it in between his index and middle finger. He flashes the card displaying my photo and name, “you’re a little far from Amity, don’t you think?”

“Where am I?” I ask, still dazed by the painful dream.

“The more important question is: What were you doing within the walls of Dauntless during a time of conflict?” He lifts an eyebrow at me, the piercing above his right eyebrow catches my attention. I look him up and down noticing his tattoos and large frame. 

“I was delivering this month’s ration, I don’t remember what happened.” 

He sucks his teeth at me as he shoves my I.D. into his pocket, “Doesn’t sound very likely.”

He sighs impatiently, “No vehicle, no escort, reports say you were snooping around the housing area. Not much delivering in my opinion.”

The room was cold, in temperature and in color. The walls were concrete, the floor was concrete, everything was either gray or black. The small room only had a backbreaking bed and a metal table chained to the floor with a chair to match. Next to the table, window facing the lifeless outside that surrounded dauntless in the last decade. Opposite, was a heavy metal door and a large window that allowed more than enough view into the depressing room.

“You don’t have the authority to hold me here, even if you suspect me of doing whatever it is you think I did,” I argued.

The strange man lets out a humorless chuckle, “No one gives a shit about the Communal Laws. We operate above them.” He looks away for a second before looking back at me, “You’ve been detained under suspicion of espionage, regardless we’re within our right.” 

He stands suddenly, the chair letting out a screech as it slides against the hard floor.

“I’ll be back,” He says, the heavy metal door slides open, green lights flashing around it. “The sooner you talk, the sooner this ends.” The door slams shut behind him, and I see his figure walking past in the darkened glass.

[mcytgirly]

Non talked about opinion, but ‘Cool About It’ by Boy Genius is so desert duo coded and I haven’t seen anyone talk about it. So please take part in me analyzing the lyrics of ‘Cool About It’ to show you why it’s desert duo.

Met you at the dive bar to go shoot some pool (Found each other always, even if unintentionally. Always there to play the games.)

And make fun of the cowboys (ie. ranchers??) with the neck tattoos (I like to think soulmate marks in double life were on their necks.)

Ask you easy questions about work and school (every single small talk they’ve had in the life series since 3rd life)

I'm trying to be cool about it (the two of them literally haven’t mentioned what happened in 3rd life since like double life. I know as actual people their lives didn’t change obviously, but as characters they did. They were completely changed because of that desert, and yet they’re expected to be ‘cool about it’)

Feelin' like an absolute fool about it (idiots in love?? Need I say more.)

Wishin' you were kind enough to be cruel about it (Scar has never once gotten mad at Grian for all the times he’s hurt him. Outside of double life Scar hasn’t even really confronted Grian about it. Yes, Scar said the “you stab a man in the back” and “it’s for your secret soulmate” but he’s never fully been mad at Grian.)

Tellin' myself I can always do without it (I like to think that yes, both Grian and Scar never left the desert. But Grian tried to and failed, just like him trying to convince himself that he doesn’t need Scar. Well Scar never left the desert out of choice, he always goes back to Grian.)

Knowin' that it probably isn't true (Neither of them can do this without each other. Just Grian still tries to get away and Scar hasn’t. They need each other.)

I came prepared for absolution, if you'd only ask (The entirety of third life was the two of them literally against the world. The two of them would go anywhere with each other if the other asked. Literally all of their deaths in double life was an adventure they went on either separately or together.)

So I take some offense when you say, "No regrets" (They both hurt each other, and made each other lose lives. Though Grian pushes away Scar because he doesn’t want to hurt Scar again. Well no matter what Grian does, Scar still goes back! Scar doesn’t regret any of it.)

I remember it's impossible to pass your test (The entirety of every scam Scar has committed. Grian has never fallen for one, it was always Scar who fell for Grians. For example, Scar giving Grian a life in last life, and the entirety of their cactus trade in secret life.)

But I'm trying to forget about it (GRIAN WANTS TO FORGET, SCAR DOESN’T. NEITHER OF THEM EVER DO)

Feelin' like I'm breaking a sweat about it (“Scar put your clothes back on!”)

Wishin' you would kindly get out of my head about it (Grian being the one to tell Scar, “She’s dead Scar. You won.” in Secret life. And the entirety of “the voices want a fight” in third life)

Tellin' myself one day I'll forget about it (Once you win all the tiny details come back, but during the games you remember everything. So Scar remembers third life in last life but not on Hermitcraft. So every single season Grian always hopes he’ll come back and he’ll have forgotten what happened, he’s stuck having every single detail swallow him whole. He wishes he could use his hands again without seeing blood on them. But forgetting meant forgetting those lilacs and poppies, and Grian couldn’t live in a universe where he didn’t remember what those flowers smell like. Scar wishes he could remember everything yearns to never have to forget again, until he then wins secret life and realizes winning is to much to carry. Not when the memories haunt him everywhere and everyday for the rest of his life. He yearns to wake up one morning and forget everything, to never feel that loneliness again, but that would mean forgetting the desert, Scar can’t live in a universe where he doesn’t miss the feeling of sand underneath fingernails.)

Knowin' that it probably isn't true (Though contrary to the prior statement, both of their biggest fears is the other forgetting everything)

Once, I took your medication to know what it's like (After Scar won Scar was able to understand why Grian was so avoidant and never spoke about the life series outside of the games)

And now I have to act like I can't read your mind. I ask you how you're doing and I let you lie (Never apologized outside of 3rd life. They just don’t bring it up, they lie. Just like when Grian asked Scar if he wanted to be friends and Scar HAD to say no because he had to LIE)

But we don't have to talk about it (They never actually talked about what happened outside of the games!! They’ve never fully brought up 3rd life since the beginning of last life. They were never going to talk about it. )

I can walk you home and practice method acting (The both of them act like it doesn’t matter, but it does. It does matter. It eats them alive. It’s what brings them back to each other in every life, is every game, in every universe. They’re just ACTING)

I'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning (Whenever they’re around each other they just have the memories of everything before this. They would forever be trapped by the memories of every moment they’ve ever been together. They will always go back. They will always feel like they’re drowning.)

Tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing. Even though we know it isn't true (They just want life to go back to how it was before. They’re just idiots in love. They just want to be a part of each others lives. They hate each other, they love each other more than anything. They want to be a part of each others days, yet they’re going to betray each other in ever lifetime. They’re going to avoid each other for the rest of their existence, they’re going to find each other again in EVERY SINGLE LIFETIME.)

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 4.4k // ciwyw masterlist // masterlist

a/n: the next fic update will be some kind of haunted. if you haven't already, please give it a read. it's going to be a fun ride. chapter ten will come a few days after that update <3

Golden hair tickled his nose when he woke. The sweet smell of Aelin’s shampoo had him taking a deep breath, savoring every second of her wrapped in his arms. He remembered tugging her closer to him just as he drifted off, but he was surprised they hadn’t appeared to move an inch while they napped. If anything, they were closer together. Their legs were tangled, one of hers sandwiched between his. An arm was slung over his waist and her face was buried in his chest. 

He thought she was still sleeping, but her fingertips started drawing lazy patterns over his back, like she heard the change in his breathing and knew he was awake. Mala burn him, he felt her touch through his whole body. While he was still exhausted, Rowan had never felt so awake. 

“Are you okay?” He murmured into her hair, taking a chance and pressing his lips to the top of her head as his hand ran up and down her back. 

“I’m nauseous.” Aelin’s reply was a whisper swallowed up by the cotton of his shirt. 

“I promise I won’t get mad if you throw up on me. It might even finally make us even,” he teased. A soft chuckle from her lips sank through his shirt, goosebumps blooming over his arms and neck. 

“The way you smell…” she hesitated, rubbing her nose against into his torso. Rowan waited, fully prepared to lunge for the shower if it was making things worse for her. “It soothes me.”

Rowan had to swallow a swell of emotion as he whispered, “Then we can stay like this as long as you want.” 

His arm slid beneath her head, carefully as to not jostle her too much. Aelin’s only answer was the swirling of her fingers over his back and what he swore was a soft brush of her lips against his chest as she melted into him completely. 

~*~

Being wrapped up in Rowan chased her nausea away after another half hour. They didn’t speak unless he was checking in to see how she was doing. Long fingers combed through her hair, pausing to twist at the ends. She was quire sure he braided a few pieces at one point before dismantling them gently. Occasionally she would feel the whisper of a kiss to the top her head. Aelin hadn’t felt so at peace since they had last been tangled together like vineyard vines. 

Once her stomach didn’t seem to be revolting against her, she pulled back enough to look at his face and found Rowan’s bright green eyes peering down at her. Concern lay heavy in his eyes, like he was hesitant to let her go. When she offered him a small smile, though, his features immediately softened. However subdued his returning grin was, the twitching of his mouth made it clear he was holding a bigger smile back. It was so cute that the urge to kiss him was damn near overwhelming.

“Better?” He asked just before she could act on that impulse. Tattooed fingers still trickled over her skin, now moving to her upper arms since her back was harder to reach. Aelin nodded and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as he said,  “I have a question.”

“I have an answer.” Readjusting where she lay, she moved one hand under her head and dropped her other back over his waist. Their lips were inches apart, and she caught his eyes dipping down to her mouth. Being so close was tempting the both of them, it seemed, but she knew he wouldn’t push that line unless she did first. If he asked, she very well might say yes. 

“I think you called me your boyfriend this morning,” he said carefully, like she was running water trying to slip through his fingers at any given moment.

“That’s not a question,” she pointed out, one eyebrow quirking up. 

“I…” Rowan’s eyes darted over her face then up to the ceiling while he gathered his thoughts. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

Aelin wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that. The short answer was yes, for the most part. The long answer? That was complicated. There were doubts swimming in her head about being in a relationship. Sometimes she didn’t know if she could ever be all into one ever again. It didn’t mean she didn’t want to be, but after the last one blew up so spectacularly in her face and left her burned and scarred… Opening her heart like that was scary. 

“It means… It means that you’re on probation.” Each word was slowly pulled from her mouth. The slight disappointment on his face tugged at every string that led to her heart and forced her to sit up and scrub at her face with her hands. 

“I’m sorry if I’m pushing,” Rowan said immediately, sitting up next to her and doing his best to add a few inches between them. The left side of  her body was cold without his warmth, and against her better judgment she put her hand on his thigh to keep him from wiggling too far away. 

“You’re not. It’s– I–”

“I understand if you need more time and space to work this out,” he told her, letting her weave her fingers through his. Gods, she didn’t have enough words in her vocabulary to fully express how much it wasn’t him, not really.

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet. There are things I want to tell you that I’ve never told another soul. Not Aedion, not Lysandra, definitely not my parents. But there are things that I haven’t fully coped with yet and I need to figure it out first for myself. It isn’t… this sounds so cliche,  but it isn’t you. Not entirely. I’m not holding how you reacted against you, Rowan. Especially not after what you told me about Lyria. I just need to figure myself out first.” 

“Is it connected to why you didn’t want our relationship to become anything more than something fun?” A tattooed finger traced the tendons and veins on the back of her hand. When she looked at his face, Rowan paused and looked up at her. 

“Yes,” she said softly. “I… I was in a really bad relationship. It took me a long time to get out of it. Sometimes I feel like I’ve only really just started coming back into myself. I have thrown myself into work so aggressively since I started the foundation to distract myself. But you… you made me feel awake for the first time in a really long time. I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I know I’ll get there eventually, but it’s so much to unravel. I just… I need you to be patient with me.” 

It was a teensy, tiny baby step forward. It was something, though. More than she thought she could offer him to begin with. The truth of the words scared her more than anything else. She did want to talk to him about everything, but that also meant allowing herself to trust him fully.  

Part of her brain didn’t want to allow it. Freely trusting had bitten her in the ass with very sharp teeth and shredded her down to nothing. Ever since Aedion showed up, she wondered if Lysandra had been so worried about her spiraling that she sent him to stop it before it got too out of hand. Up until she decided to make the trip to Wendlyn, she had been a shell of her former self. When discussing it with her family, while they fully supported the expansion of Fireheart, they had decided they wouldn’t– or couldn’t– leave her on her own for the several months she would be living out of the country. 

On the other hand, they seemed to understand that getting out of Orynth for a little while would be good for her. So many memories, more bad than good, haunted every corner of the city she loved so fiercely. It was agreed that it would be beneficial for her to get away for a little while. 

Her parents had hated the idea initially. With her anxiety and depression at an all time high, letting her out of sight for more than a few days or weeks was pushing it. Her dad had come around first, then talked her mom into being okay with it. By the time she was packed and ready to leave, her mental health was on the rise. Just the idea of getting away from Orytnh had already started to lift her spirits. The night before she left she vowed to video call at least once a week, and so far she had stuck to her word. 

The night she met Rowan, something changed. Aelin couldn’t put her finger on what it was, exactly, but somewhere between their banter and his determination to make her appreciate soccer, something was thrumming through her veins again. It was like he had shaken her awake, a new clarity settling into her mind. For the first time in years, she felt like herself. 

And it scared the absolute shit out of her.

“Hey. Where did you go?” His voice pulled her mind back to the present as his finger hooked under her chin and guided her face to look at him. Rowan’s brows were pulled in tightly together, worry written all over his face as plainly as if he’d vocalized it. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, trying to look away from the intensity in his gaze. He didn’t let her.

“I’m not going anywhere, Aelin. I can be patient. I can and will give you whatever you want, whatever you need. I’ll be here.”

She wasn’t sure when tears had started to slip down her cheeks, but they were damp. Rowan’s face softened as he leaned forward and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her face one by one. When he leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss against her forehead, then her temple. A desperation to melt into him rose within her like a wave, but anxiety about her past wouldn’t let her give into the temptation. 

“One more question,” Rowan said once her tears were dry, pulling back until just their noses were touching. The idle pattern his thumb traced below her ear felt so lovely she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. 

“Hm?”

“If you’re calling me your boyfriend, do I get to call you my girlfriend?” It wasn’t what she was expecting, and she had her suspicions that he was asking partially as a distraction. Either way, a surprised laugh slipped through her lips as she looked up at him.

“You can call it whatever you want to, Ro.” 

When he smiled, broad and unrestrained before pressing another sweet, lingering kiss to her temple, a thought clanged through her like a bell. Maybe it was a warning. Maybe it was a celebration. She couldn’t be sure. 

What Aelin knew was that she wanted to fall in love with him. And that was the single most terrifying thought she’d ever had in her life. 

~*~

A while later, everyone was showered and dressed to go out for dinner. Aelin had emerged from her room in a simple, oversized t-shirt dress, and Rowan was struck once again by how beautiful she was. It wasn’t the first time it had hit him that day, but the little smile she gave him was enough to make his stomach flip almost violently. 

Aelin drove, and despite Rowan insisting Aedion sit in the front, he rode in the passenger seat beside her. The drive to the heart of the city was quick, the two cousins arguing over music choices almost up until she parked the car. The way they ribbed each other reminded Rowan so much of Enda and Sellene, and he was absolutely positive that she would perfectly fit into his family with ease. 

Though the restaurant was busy for a Monday evening, they didn’t have to wait for a table. Aedion called ahead before they left the apartment and they were quickly ushered back to a table in the back corner. Apparently, this was one of Aelin’s favorite places and she often ordered soup for lunch on days she wasn’t feeling well at work. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Rowan asked once they were seated. Ever since the orange juice incident, he was hyper-aware of how sensitive she was to smells. The delicious aroma of pasta and garlic didn’t seem to bother her, though, because she nodded eagerly while opening her menu.

“I’m fucking starving.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve eaten more in the last few days than I’ve ever seen you eat in your entire life,” Aedion joked, and Aelin gave him a flat look.

“Clearly you don’t remember dance competition season very well.” Rowan’s eyebrows went up, eyes snagging on her face again.

“Dance competitions?” He asked.

“I danced competitively until I graduated high school. Rehearsals were intense leading up to it, and even though my instructor was constantly harping about watching my figure,” she paused to roll her eyes, “I ate damn near constantly.”

“She used to eat us all out of house and home,” Aedion agreed, to which Aelin snorted.

“Don’t even start with that shit.” Aelin shook her head as she looked at Rowan, pointing at Aedion with her arm stretched across the table and a finger in his face. She was quick to pull her hand back onto their side of the table when her cousin moved to grab it. “I know you’ll be able to relate to this, but our moms had to double every recipe we ever had for dinner because this asshole would eat enough to feed a family of four in one sitting.”

“My mom did the same thing. If there was ever anything leftover I would wind up eating it later in the night,” Rowan confirmed, and Aelin laughed. 

“I feel like you don’t eat quite that much anymore, but you get pretty close. I always wondered why you ate so much after coaching a game. Things made so much more sense when I found out you were a dirty little liar.” Rowan didn’t have time to wonder if it was a genuine jab or not– her brilliant smile told him she was teasing. He shrugged his shoulders as he looked back at the menu, fighting back a grin of his own.

“Go easy on him, Fireheart. He had to make sure you weren’t in it for the money.” Aelin cackled so loudly at Aedion’s little quip that she received a few glares from nearby tables. Despite the joke being wholly at his expense, Rowan chuckled, too. Her hand found his knee under the table and squeezed. 

The waitress saved him from the jokes going any further, each of them ordering drinks and Aelin requesting two appetizers to start. Aedion had given her a look like she was proving his earlier statement. She merely sat back, patted her stomach and said, “I’m eating for two.”

~*~ 

Rowan had just finished his second old-fashioned and while he didn’t feel buzzed in the slightest, he was more relaxed than he had been all week. 

Dinner was nothing more than scraps and crumbs on their plates, their glasses empty. Aelin had her chin in her hand while Aedion talked about working on the business side of things for Orynth’s football team. Everything he had to do could be done from anywhere, which was why he had dropped everything to fly out to see Aelin. 

They had filled Rowan in on his surprise arrival, and while he felt guilty that she was struggling so much, he was happy they were getting time together. Aelin had reassured him that it wasn’t necessarily about what he said to her, and more about having always been surrounded by family, yet his heart still twinged that he added additional stress. The comforting pat she gave his thigh did little to quell his worries, but the fact that she was touching him in a casual way again was a step forward he couldn’t ignore. 

Rowan stole the check from the waitress before either of the other two could even reach for it. He had seen Aelin pull her wallet out of her purse and refused to let her pay for anyone. Maybe it was a subtle way of trying to amend things, maybe it was just how his mother raised him. Maybe it was both and he wanted to prove it didn’t matter. 

Rowan handed his card back to the waitress and leaned back in his chair, one arm draping over the back of Aelin’s. He toyed with the ends of her hair until she cleared her throat and nodded at Rowan. With an eyebrow raised, he turned to find a boy, no older than seven, with black hair and wide, brown eyes hesitantly approaching the table. A sketchbook was clutched to his chest and his fingers were wrapped tightly around a pen. The shirt was the same color as Rowan’s home jersey, and he was willing to bet the logo was hiding behind his arms. 

A big part of Rowan loved fan interactions, especially with kids. Another part of him was nervous about what Aelin would think. Was it off putting that these things tended to happen to him when he went anywhere besides the Neon Moon? They were just starting to make some sort of progress. He didn’t want this to be what chased her away. 

Aelin surprised him, though, by leaning forward so she could address the boy directly as she said, “Hi sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“Finn,” he said, twisting his mouth to the side as he looked down at his sketchbook. A few tables over, a woman around his age watched him carefully. It must be his mother. 

“Hi, Finn. My name is Aelin. This is my friend Rowan and my cousin Aedion,” she paused while he nodded, but he said nothing else like he was too nervous to speak. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that you’re a big soccer fan.”

“Football,” Rowan murmured to her, and the boy cracked a wide grin as he nodded. Rowan smiled back at him, unable to resist when he was missing his two front teeth. “Would you like an autograph?” 

Again, his head bobbed up and down, flopping his hair into his eyes. Aelin chuckled beside him, sitting back while Rowan took the pen and paper from Finn and scribbled his signature across a blank page. 

“If you want get your mom, she could take a picture of you two,” Aelin offered, and the little boy looked out of his mind excited as he weaved through the tables to get his mother. 

“I’m so sorry,” Rowan said softly, running his hand up and down her thigh. Aedion watched from across the table, a content smile on his face. 

“Don’t be sorry. It’s sweet.” A weight lifted off his chest at her words and he nodded in thanks, giving her knee a light squeeze as Finn and his mom approached. 

Since they were ready to leave, Aelin and Aedion excused themselves from the table as to not be in the picture. Within a few moments it was over and done with and he joined the cousins at the front of the restaurant, leading Aelin out with a hand on her back. 

“Do you have to go back tonight or can you stay another day?” Aelin asked as they walked toward the car. Aedion walked several steps ahead of them, hands in his pockets and whistling a tune as the sky turned from shades of pink and orange to purple. 

“I go back Wednesday. Malakai asked me what was going on, I told him I had some things in my personal life, and he told me to take a couple days if I needed them.” Malakai hadn’t seemed upset about Rowan missing two days of practice. He wouldn’t be playing at this week's game, anyway, and his coach was well aware that he never let himself slip out of shape. 

“Then I suppose I should call my mother tomorrow and properly introduce the two of you. Dad, too, if he’s around.” She sighed and patted his shoulder as he pulled open the driver’s side door for her, waiting until she was fully inside to shut the door. 

Rowan hadn’t formally met anyone’s parents probably ever, unles the girl he took to senior prom counter. Hopefully he made a good impression. 

~*~ 

He wasn’t sure what woke him up, all he knew was that when he reached across Aelin’s to pull her closer to him, her side was empty and cool. The bedroom was bathed in night, the only light squeezing through the gap beneath the bedroom door. Though the apartment was mostly quiet, Rowan was immediately worried that she had found herself sick. 

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, not bothering to grab his shirt before entering the hall. The bathroom door was open, but the room was dark. Out here away from the white noise of the fan on her bedside table, Rowan heard crinkling from the kitchen and followed the sound to investigate. 

Aelin stood at the counter facing toward him using nothing more than the dim light above the stove to see. All she wore was a sports bra and the pair of shorts she’d stripped down to for sleeping. A chip bag was in one hand and she was staring down into a bowl, using some sort of silverware to poke at the contents within. He paused and leaned against the door frame, folding his arms over his chest and waiting for her to notice him. 

When she lifted the utensil to her mouth, something globbed off from the bottom and either fell back into the bowl or onto the counter, he couldn’t be sure. The look on her face was pure joy as she brought it to her mouth and–

“What the fuck, Rowan!” She squealed, fork clattering onto the counter. The chips in her hand fell to the floor and whatever dark substance she was about to devour splattered on the counter. Her eyes darted nervously toward Aedion’s door, likely worry he would wake up from her shouting, but no sounds came from beyond the hall.

“What are you doing in here, love?” Rowan prowled toward her, noticing the blush that took over her cheeks the closer he got. 

“I wanted a snack,” she bristled, bending down to pick the chip bag up off the floor. When she righted herself, he saw it was a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos. Leaning one hip against the counter he stuck his hand in to pull one out.

“What is this?” He pointed toward the bowl with his chip before popping it into his mouth. It could have been the light, but he was pretty sure Aelin was red from head to toe. With her lips glued together it was clear he wouldn’t be getting a direct answer out of her. Rowan leaned down and sniffed, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “Chocolate?”

“Mhm.” She picked up the mess of a blob from the counter, and it was then that he realized what she was doing.

“Are you dipping hot cheetos into chocolate?”

“It’s dark chocolate.” Like that made it any better. His bewildered expression didn’t waver enough for her liking because she frowned at him and pointed toward her room. “If you’re going to judge me, get out of my kitchen.”

“You’re dipping hot cheetos into melted chocolate.”

“Spicy chocolate is a thing!” She cried, smacking at his chest. Rowan’s lips twitched at her defensive nature. Even her fingers had chocolate on them. From this close, he could see the corner of her mouth did, too.

“Where did you even get this idea?” Another cheeto was stolen from the bag in her hand. He hadn’t had these in years.

“Well, I just,” she sighed, brushing her hair from her face exasperatedly. To save her from fighting with her hair, he moved behind her and carefully pulled it into a ponytail. Once it was secured with the hair tie on his wrist, she mumbled a thank you. Aelin looked the part of a five year old getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and it was fucking adorable. “I was just laying there and wanted something spicy but then I wanted something sweet. And then I had the brilliant idea of sweet and spicy at the same time and I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“So you–”

“It’s not that weird, okay! I’ve seen and heard other people do worse and it’s so good.” She dipped one half way and held it up, twisting to look at him over shoulder. Rowan shook his head, ready to apologize for not wanting to try it, but Aelin simply shrugged and dropped it into the bowl.

“I’m going to take your word for it,” he teased, rubbing his hands over her shoulders. Aelin leaned back into him, her body warm where their bare skin touched. Her eyes once again focused on using the fork to coat the cheeto in dark chocolate. When she lifted it out, it was a dark little lump. The bowl being nearly empty with half-solid chocolate glued to its walls had him wondering how long she’d been out here doing this. “Why aren’t you just dipping?”

“Because the whole thing has to be covered for the ratio,” she said, like it was the dumbest question she had ever heard. Like it was common sense, and not just a concoction her pregnant brain had made up at three in the morning. 

“Right, right.” Rowan agreed like it was obvious. That seemed to satisfy her because she hummed contentedly before putting the little log into her mouth, chewing slowly to savor it.

“Issogood,” she mumbled, half moaning. Aelin moaning while he was half awake was the last thing he needed to hear. It made his body high alert in all the wrong places, and he stepped out from behind her and nodded toward her bedroom.

“Let’s go back to bed. We can clean this up in the morning and then I’ll take you to get all the spicy chocolate you desire.”

“Promise?” She asked, sucking the half-melted goo from her thumb with wide eyes as she looked up at him. Rowan chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I promise.”

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @bellasbookboyfriends @icantfindmychashma @swankii-art-teacher

[littleashleylynn]

Humping Like Bunnies | Eddie Munson x Reader | Part 2

Humping Like Bunnies | Eddie Munson x Reader | Part 2

Pairing: Eddie x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI!! Porn with some plot, tons of smut, breeding kink, rough sex, oral sex, dirty talk, praise kink, dom!eddie / sub!reader, sub!eddie / dom!reader, masturbating, smutty smut smut.

Summary: Eddie describes his fantasies to you during a dirty phone call. 

READ PART 1 HERE

Laying in the darkness of his bedroom, Eddie was super relaxed. He had a blunt between his two soft pillow lips and felt very satisfied after that tasty dinner. 

At this point Uncle Wayne has already left for his late shift, leaving Eddie alone in their trailer for the night. 

Shifting in his bed trying to get comfortable, Eddie can’t seem to feel close to sleepy – even after trying to smoke from his supply, which normally does the trick. He still can’t seem to shake his dirty fantasy out of his head, so he just lies in bed super awake and super horny. The more he tries to not think about it, the more it sticks in his brain. At this point, he has built up a complete naughty scenario in his head.

He sees himself as a Rockstar – the lead singer and lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin, with full access to the Playboy Mansion. He’s wearing super low-cut leather skinny pants, a perfectly tailored silk red top with the buttons completely undone where you can see his pale slender, yet muscular frame covered in tattoos. A singular thin gold chain caressing his collarbone, hair wild, and expensive leather boots on his feet. He is surrounded by bunnies of all kinds, all in different colored bodysuits with those fluffy little tails resting perfectly on pert bottoms. Legs for days and their feet resting in black patent leather pumps. Manicured fingers start wandering his body, dragging across his soft skin. Under his shirt, playing in his hair, grazing the growing bulge in the front of his black pants. 

“Mmmm, you are just so sexy and so talented, Mr. Eddie Munson.” One of the girls coos, petting his bare chest as another two bunnies start kissing the sides of his neck softly.

“Ladies, please, just call me Eddie,” Eddie purrs with a smirk as the ladies blissfully lead him back onto a giant heart-shaped bed adorned in more red silk. “Or better yet, you can just moan ‘Eddie’ as I pleasure each and every one of you.” 

The ladies giggle as he starts to feel his tight pants loosen as they come undone and his aching cock gets some freedom. Two of the bunnies gently peel Eddie’s pants down his legs so they pool at his ankles, boot-clad feet resting on the floor. Sitting at the edge of the bed, sitting up on his elbows, Eddie watches as one of the blonde bunnies positions herself between his legs and looks up at him with bright blue doe-eyes. A brunette bunny kneels behind him, peeling his open silky shirt off his shoulders, giving him a tender massage. At least 6 more ladies are surrounding him, seductively caressing other neglected parts of his body. A redheaded bunny with the most beautiful freckles and green eyes gets a hold of one of his nipple rings between her teeth and gently tugs. Eddie breathes out a moan, and the blonde between his legs starts toying with the hardened member still encased in his tight black briefs. Eddie sees his own chest rising and falling in front of his eyes as his breathing hitches momentarily when she releases his dripping cock from its confines.

“Before you can pleasure us, Eddie, let us take really good care of you.” The blonde purrs, beginning to stroke up and down his shaft, slick with precum. She leans in to give kitten licks to his sack, nestled in thick, wild pubic hair. 

“Wow, Eddie you’re so big.” Another brunette bunny moans, getting on her knees next to the blonde, who is now licking a stripe up from his balls to his pink tip, collecting precum on her tongue. Eddie lets out another breathy moan.

“You want a taste?” The blonde purrs to the brunette, then suddenly they are softly kissing each other between his legs. Precum mixes with both of their saliva on their cherry lips as the ladies moan into the heated kiss.

“Jesus fucking Christ” Eddie growls.

Flash back to reality and Eddie is now flipped onto his stomach in the bed, thrusting his hardened member into the mattress below him. His blunt rests in the nearby ashtray as he now pushes his face into his pillow, practically drooling.

“You pretty ladies want my big fat cock in your sweet pussies?” Eddie moans aloud into the pillow, rolling his hips into the stained fabric. “Line up and all of you can take turns on this ride.”

He snaps out of his trance to take a breath, raising his head off the pillow, bottom lip glossed with a drop of saliva.

“Holy shit.” Eddie breathes, wiping his drool of his pillow lips with the back of his hand. He hangs off the side of his bed to feel around in the darkness for his phone. Once he feels his fingertips finally graze familiar plastic, he grabs the phone, wrestling with the chord as he pulls it into his bed. He knows how to dial your number without looking so it’s no problem for him to click the right buttons in the dark. He holds the receiver between his ear and his shoulder as he listens to the ringing, waiting eagerly for you to answer.

Snuggled in your bed at home, you hear the phone ringing on your bedside table. You open your eyes and glance at the clock. You sigh at who in the world would be calling this late, but reluctantly slide your hand from out under the covers to grab it.

“Hello?” You answer sleepily. 

“Hey sweetheart, it’s me.” Eddie answers with velvet coating his voice.

“Eddie?” You ask rubbing your eye with your other hand, rolling yourself onto your back. “It’s like midnight, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s really wrong, per say, just I wish you were here to take care of this horrible itch I need to scratch.” He grins into the phone. You’re still half asleep, so it takes you a minute to understand that your boyfriend isn’t actually “itchy”.

“Baby, I can’t drive over there right now.” You complain, adjusting yourself to get more comfortable under your floral print covers. 

“You don’t have to come over, doll. I just wanna talk.” Eddie hums, rolling back onto his stomach, resting his free cheek against the pillow. “I am just so, so horny and I have this little fantasy I need to talk to you about.” That last part jolted you more awake.

“Oh yeah?” You whisper. You can’t resist how hot Eddie is when he’s all worked up so you decide to indulge him. “Tell me all about it, babe.” You purr.

“So earlier today, I indulged in my usual ‘me time’…” he began, playing with the phone chord, “…and I was jerkin’ it to this sexy lil bunny that reminded me a lot of you. All I can think about was the last time we fucked, princess. Your ass in the air just like hers, lips all parted and juicy. Then I had an idea, that I would just kill to see your fine self in one of those little Playboy outfits.”

“Oh, would you now?” You smile, biting your lower lip. Your sweet voice alone continued to get him all worked up and he began to hump the bed again softly.

“Yeah, sweetheart I would.” Eddie let out a breathy moan that you can totally register from your side of the phone. “I wanna play out a dream I had where I am a rockstar with a private invitation to the Playboy Mansion, and get to have playtime with all the bunnies.”

“All the bunnies, huh?” You purr back at him. “What are they doing to you in your dream, Eddie?” You inquire, rolling back onto your belly to absentmindedly and lightly kick your feet under the blankets. Hearing him horny and dirty talk to you is so addicting. You just love hearing him get lost in the moment, all hot and bothered. It makes you feel frisky yourself, all the better for when you see him next time. You can already feel a naughty ambush in the back of the school library coming tomorrow. 

“Well, I am lounging at the end of this giant, heart-shaped bed, with red silk sheets. The bunnies have their hands all over me, undressing me slowly, kissing my neck, biting my nipples…” he moans into the phone.

“I can bite your nipples for you, baby.” You growl softly. You hear Eddie let out a breathy moan at that. “What are you doing right now, Eds? Are you playing with yourself?”

“Sort of,” Eddie responds breathily, “I’m humping the shit out of my bed right now.”

You groan and lick your lips, feeling a warm jolt to your lower belly hearing him say that. You can only imagine how fucked out he looks right now, chocolate curls wild and that gorgeous cock leaking onto the bed. Urging him to talk more, you ask him more about his dream.

“So what else, big boy? Tell me more.” The nickname falls from your lips like sweet molasses. Eddie groans again at your words.

“There’s a bunny b-between my legs…” You hear his breath hitch as he continues to fuck into the mattress. “She took my pants off and starts playing with me through my underwear. She finally takes my cock out and slides my underwear down to my ankles. She begins stroking my cock, wetting it with my precum, then licks my sack…runs her tongue up to the head of my dick.”

“What else, baby?” You coo, playing with the chord of the phone, twisting it around your finger.

“…then another bunny joins her, tells me how big I am…” He begins to sound more and more out of breath.

“Oh, you are big, Eddie, such a big, big boy.” You purr, egging him on. You can feel your own arousal growing more inside you. You reach down with your free hand to your soft, covered folds and find a little wet patch on your pink cotton panties.

“And then the one who’s licking me asks the other one if she wants to taste me, then they start making out between my legs… but that’s where it ended…” Eddie breathed.

“I know what I would do if I were one of the bunnies in your sexy fantasy.” You began, breathing heavier.

“Oh yeah, princess? What would you do?”

“I would definitely be licking that big, thick cock of yours, with gentle teasing licks – just to see you get all excited.” You whispered with velvet on your tongue. “Then, I would start undressing between your legs, keeping those bunny ears and bowtie on…”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie moaned.

“Yeah baby, then I’m gonna straddle you on that bed and sink that big meaty cock of yours into my wet little pussy.” You hear Eddie groan blissfully. “And I’m gonna ride your lap, and guide your thick, guitar-playing fingers to my tight little puckered hole so you can tease me there while my sensitive little clit rubs into that bush of pubic hair you have.”

“Holy fucking shit, s-sweetheart.” Eddie moans. “Keep talking dirty like that and I’ll cum all over myself.”

“Speaking of cumming,” You began again with a smirk, “as I ride you, I’ll be moaning your name, ‘Eddie!’ I’ll scream, ‘Eddie, please cum inside me’ as all the other bunnies rub and touch your sweaty body, watching us fuck. And ill beg for you to breed me, to pump all that warm seed into my pussy.”

“Keep going, baby girl.” Eddie growls, sounding like he’s picked up the pace on his humping.

“Slapping skin together, you grab my ass, then we both moan so loud, cumming at the same time. I squeeze my inner walls around your cock, and you cum - emptying inside me. ‘Ooh Eddie!’ I’ll scream, pulling on your hair…”

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna cum…” Eddie moans. You ignore him and keep going.

“…And once you’re done with me, I put my little costume back on, keeping your cum inside me, sending me back to Hef with your seed dripping down my leg. Sending me back as a used little bunny, marked by your cum…”

“Oh, o-oh…baby…” Eddie finally came, shooting hot ropes onto the mattress and his lower belly, hips jerking as he rides out his orgasm. “Fuck, y/n.” Eddie groaned.

“How was that Eds?” You whispered, smirking. You realized you have been absentmindedly touching yourself, noticing the wet spot has grown between your thighs.

“Damn, baby.” Eddie breathed wiping his bangs sticking to his forehead. “I can’t wait to play this out for real.”

“Me neither, I really like this little fantasy of yours. You even got me pretty wet talking about it with you. Thankfully Halloween is coming up. Maybe I can find this costume in one of the shops around here, surprise you on your birthday maybe…” You purr, biting your lip.

“Fuck, that would be incredible, sweetheart. Do you need me to stay on the phone so we can get you off?”

“Thanks baby, but I think I wanna keep all my excitement pent up for when I see you tomorrow. Back of the library right?” You asked shift again in the bed to get more comfortable.

“Back of the library, princess.” Eddie smiled back, messing with the rest of his wild mane.

“Goodnight Eds, Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” Eddie hung up the phone and plopped it down on the floor on the side of his bed. The shift of his body on the bed made him realize what a sticky mess he’s made underneath himself. Eddie sighed to himself.

“Fuck, not again.”

[feuerspirit]

I would love some lewis/miles with the prompt “couture” 🥰🥰

Heyyyyyyy! I know it's not what you were probably thinking at all, but I was just listening to a song and it suddenly popped into my head, so that's it. Hope you still enjoy it

My boy, here's everything for you: A little devoted house, Bitter as vodka with ice Smoke without fire, Eight abandoned bodies, Echo of footsteps on the water – There is nothing else I have.

The golden cage is still a cage. Miles realized this before others, many did not understand at all.

"Ah, here's my atelier's favorite guest," Lewis greets him with a kind smile, inviting him to his usual place in the small reception room.

"And here's my favorite couturier," Miles replies with a wide grin, he still looks like that lanky young man who was first brought to him by the guards peacemakers.

Lewis loves when Miles visits him, and it's not even related to their shared sense of style. In the world of endless carnival masquerade, it's nice to remember your own personality, desperately striving to survive in secret under a thousand masks.

Lewis lays out on the table the developments of a new suit for him. This is high fashion, understandable to few, something really strong in the world of their lying, gaudy aristocracy, addicted to bright wigs and ridiculous outfits.

Miles touches the fabrics, evaluates with long fingers the curvy cut. His hands are covered in washed-out blood, dozens of lives taken away, which he had to go through for the sake of living here. Lewis straightens the fabric of his jacket and does not think about the blood that he hides on his own fingers under lace half-gloves. They both paid a high price to have a chance at a better life.

Miles undresses without hesitation, he likes to show off his own body and all the tattoos, but hates showing scars. Those who were born here never understand the sacrifices they had to make to win the right to be here. Those who have gone through the same battle hate constant reminders.

Lewis dresses him neatly, smoothes a supple blue fabric with gold patterns on his broad shoulders, a cloudy kimono hugs his body, surrounds his figure with a mist of silk and gauze fabric. Lewis sheathed every contender who left for the Games, and every winner who inevitably returned for a new outfit to become another favorite entertainment for the rich.

His fancy outfits are perfect for Miles, as if his fashion was created to emphasize the beauty of his body. It's as if his body was created to reveal every detail of his highly sophisticated fashion.

"The bird sang to me," Miles suddenly says, as Lewis's hands slide all over his body, weightlessly, just to fit the suit perfectly to his every curve, but each of them is too aware of every touch, "that you were a winner of the Games too."

Lewis freezes for a second, he has been training for a long time so as not to give himself away by the slightest reaction, but Miles has been influencing him in a special way since the very first meeting and still does. He looks down at him, the pedestal on which he stands adds a few centimeters to him, and Lewis feels uncomfortably naked under his gaze.

"Once upon a time" he doesn't want to lie to Miles, but it's a part of the past he'd rather forget about. Lewis was not born into wealth, he is the same native of poor neighborhoods, like all of them, too, once agreed to become entertainment for them at the games.

"I wouldn't take you for a man able to survive such a massacre," Miles studies him, his hand suddenly rising, gently touching his tense jaw.

"Needles can be deadly if you know how to use them," Lewis replies evasively, the silver tip of a pin flashes between his fingers and immediately disappears so quickly that Miles does not even have time to notice.

"Okay," the pin suddenly stabs him in the side, Miles almost squeals in surprise, and Lewis laughs. "Okay, I believe-I believe, stop it," he grumbles, his fingers still touching Lewis' neck and shoulder, and neither of them says a word about it. "Then you can protect yourself."

"From what?" Lewis puts down his sewing supplies. He outlined everything he wanted to finish Miles' costume for the upcoming reception in honor of the winners of the Games.

"The time is coming, Lew," Miles grins as he steps down from the podium. His hand is on Lewis's waist, and neither of them can tell whose desire brings them together in the first place. "The next Games should be the last. I need you to be able to protect yourself until I come for you."

Miles touches his face with his thumbs, and Lewis smiles.

"A lot of people have died underestimating me," he gently pushes him away from himself. Maybe someday they will be able to succumb to this temptation, but now it is too dangerous. Needles flash at the curve of his wrist under the sleeve of his loose jacket. "Maybe I'll be the one to come save you."

[ofbrokendreams]

Part two of Everything, Everywhere, All at Once.

Part One

Hit up AO3 for the full fic.

TW: cursing, discussions of sex, discussions of abuse, discussions of mental health, discussions of drug use, discussion of suicide, depiction panic attack, pregnancy (let me know if I missed anything)

WITH OR WITHOUT 

He thinks about trying to cover the new tattoo some how but the idea is ludicrous. The fucking thing is huge, well big, it’s noticeable is the point. And Richie is the first the point it out, like it’s fucking news to him, the jackass. “The fucks on your neck, Cousin?” He giggles, fucking giggles. 

The whole crew clowns on him for a week or so before moving on. 

Carmy expects to feel more self conscious then he does. Terri smiles and nods when he tries to explain it. “It was kind of nice, comfortable almost. It was just jokes and it…it was funny. I don’t know.” “I think maybe it was nice to have your staff feel so comfortable around you. Especially with your own bad experiences.” Carmy nods in agreement. “What was Sydney’s reaction? To the uh ribbing.” Terri asks. “She laughed, a lot, I think she thinks I deserve it for getting the dumb thing in the first place.”

“Ahh yes, a just punishment for foolishness.” Terri laughs softly and Carmy smiles a little. “Yes sometimes consequences can be…good. They aren’t always harsh or terrible. For example, joy is often a consequence of loving someone.” Terri says writing something down. 

Carmy thinks about it. Consequences. They’ve always been bad, punishment. That’s what he always thought they were. But maybe it’s just the reaction to an action. 

He thinks he’s staring at Syd to much. To often. To long. 

She corners him in the office one night just before service. “The fuck is going on with you?” “What? What I do?” “You’re just being like…so chill but you keep…like is there something wrong with me?”

Carmy blinks at her and laughs, a full belly laugh leaning over in his chair. Holding a hand up for her. “No no nothing is wrong with you. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more…I’m sorry.” “It’s fine. I didn’t-it’s fine.” Sydney says but she’s looking at him like he’s grown an extra head. 

They’re still packed every night. Still a waiting list weeks out. There’s reviews every month and they’re all glowing. And Carmy’s nervous. All the time. He feels like it’s all going to come crashing down. 

All Nat’s hard work could be gone and all their new family memories. Mikey took his first fucking steps in this place, one early morning toddling from his mother sitting in the office chair to Carmen standing in the office door way, the goofiest grin on his chubby face. And he cradles the little boy close and thinks how much he loves this kid and how much he misses his brother. How unfair it is that he has to be the favorite uncle when it should be Michael. But Sugar looks at him with this like…love in her eyes and he thinks maybe not. Maybe this is his place. 

And he thinks of Richie’s wisdom back when Carmy and Syd first broke up. The limited amount of time they have with her.  And Marcus, he’s so fucking talented. Carmy thinks he’s like a doctor, all “See one, do one, teach one.” And the things he creates are incredible, even when it’s not right his effort is astounding to Carmy. He just dusts himself off and tries again never afraid to scrap something or change it. The two chefs under him are getting as good as he is and for however long they have Marcus they’ll only get better. 

But Sydney. Carmy has kind of…this is her place too. And he’s always known she might venture out but this is her place too. He doesn’t think she’d leave. But now he’s thinking that was more of his selfishness. He doesn’t want her to leave as much as he does want her to thrive, to flourish. 

A couple magazines want interviews. Local Chicago things just spotlighting a hometown place. And they do a photo shoot with Carmy and Syd calls him a fucking slut when she sees it giggling like he’s never heard. Laying on her stomach on his bed while he sits at the window smoking. He remembers the tank top they’d had him wear and how excited the wardrobe lady got when he’d shown up in his vintage denim. He rolls his eyes but when Sydney reads the interview she doesn’t laugh. 

It’s all Sydney, Sydney, Sydney, Sydney. 

And she’s looking at him like he’s…like he’s the one who’s special. But it’s all her.

It’s a Monday when the other magazine interviews Syd. Its weird but it gets Carmy’s thinking it’s been longer that they’ve been apart then they were ever together and it’s horrifying. And he thinks of Michael and Syd’s mom, how Syd’s older then she ever got to be and how someday he’ll be older then his brother could stand to be. 

He’s along for the ride since the reporter wanted an in real life kind of thing. 

Instead of their usual Monday routine of nothing. They do their other less routine of recipe testing. The new Fall menu is changing. And they hit up the Farmer’s Market before it gets to cold and closes for the season. And there’s a camera man with them and he directs them a little bit but mostly let’s them do their thing taking a lot of candid shots. And Syd talks food, and their staff and The Beef and the CIA and Nat and little Mikey, and how they’re a family run restaurant. 

And the reporter at some point calls Sydney Carmy’s wife, like to his face, asks something like “Is your wife always this excited over tomatoes?” With this laugh and Carmy nods and says “Always.” And doesn’t correct him. 

And when he reads the interview he kind of thinks maybe her feelings have changed. It’s a little selfish but he thinks about how much he talked about her and how little she talked about him. And maybe she’s not…she’s not in love with him anymore. Like he is her. 

But then he looks at the pictures. 

And for every one of him standing holding her flowers and produce is one of Syd looking at him. And her smile, her eyes, the way she softly grabbed his wrist when she noticed the local honey stand that only comes once a month (and she fucking loves it but he keeps missing it and she was so delighted she’d get to show him finally, “Finally” she’d said grinning back at him.) and they’d caught that moment. 

So it’s weird and they’re so out of order. And they haven’t talked about it. But it feels right. 

When she comes over a few days later and she’s talking mousse and some kind of greens, “Like kale or chard, you know robust”. He just interrupts and asks if she can help him with something. And she nods of course. And he holds out her ring on its delicate chain. 

“Can you uh-can you hang onto this for me…again?”

And she stares at him for a while before turning her back to him and lifting her hair. And he puts the necklace on her. Buries his face in the place where her neck and shoulder meet. 

“I’m trying Syd. I’m trying and I just I need time and your patience and I need you.” “You’ve got me Carmy, I’m not-you’re good. I’m right here.”

When Carmy asked for her patience Syd’s not really sure what he meant. Cause a couple days later he’s giving her back her key, and asking if she want’s to just move in, full time, permanently. Or like maybe they should look at other places. He wants to stay in the city but like maybe find something a little bigger. Closer to her dad maybe?

Syd just nods and laughs and tackles him to the bed and they’re almost late for work. (For them at least, they come in with every one else instead of early).

And living together is fucking bliss. 

It shouldn’t be. 

It’s not all that different then what they’ve been doing. But just knowing Syd is coming home with him every night. Every Monday, she’s there and when she leaves she’s coming home, when he leaves he comes home to her. It erases all his anxiety about them living together. About making things to permanent. Cause for him concrete crumbles but not for Syd and he’s trusting her. 

He’s trusting her luck rather then his own. 

Being around each other so much now is how he first notices the changes. Sydney’s attitude is different, she’s more on edge, she’s not eating (she tastes as she cooks but she’s picking at family or skipping it in the office and she’s picking at her food at home too. Barely eating now that he thinks of it).

“Hey are you…you’re not still throwing up after service are you?” He asks one night as they’re walking home. And Syd stares at him, rolls her eyes and shakes her head. It’s been almost two years since The Bear opened. She shoves his arm playfully then wraps her arms around his bicep holding him as they walk. “I’m good. Just…a little off. Thank you for checking.” And she’s so sweet about it smiling at him adorably and humming Frank Ocean softly but he knows its a dismissal. She doesn’t want to talk about it. 

Should he push? He think about asking for her patience and knows he needs to give his. And fuck he owes Terri a million fucking dollars, for getting him to a place where he’s emotionally capable of this kind of rational thinking.

“Have you noticed Syd being weird?” He asks Sugar a few days later. Cause he’s more emotional mature sure but his sister is his sister. Sugar’s fingers stop where they’re typing on her phone. She looks at him on the floor of her living room with Mikey and sighs. “I can’t-I uh-“ Carmy nods and waves her off. 

He’s the king of avoidance. So knowing that Syd is talking to someone is good. And it being Sugar, seeing how close they are it’s…it’s nice. It feels comfortable. 

He waits. And waits. And waits. 

He’s about to fall sleep on the couch, new couch, watching Julia Child reruns on a local access channel when Sydney comes out of the bedroom. She’s wearing one of his white tees and an older pair of his plaid boxers and she’s so fucking cute and gorgeous. And sad. And anxious. “Syd?”

She takes his hand and bites her lip and he wants to pull it out, kiss her until everything is okay. 

“I’m pregnant.”

Carmy knows he heard her correctly but he blinks, shakes his head and clears his throat. 

He’s gonna have a panic attack. He’s gonna fucking lose it. 

Carmy thinks of the techniques Terri’s taught him. The shit he uses in the kitchen so he doesn’t yell and scream and scare every new chef. But it’s all-it’s gone. 

All he’s got is his father leaving before he ever got to know him. 

His mother going full psycho. Every other day. Hiding in his bedroom and stuffing his drawings under the bed. Watching her abuse his sister and traumatize his brother. 

He’s got Michael and his drug use and his avoidance and his pain and his gun and it’s all on the tip of his tongue. 

He can’t do this. He can’t do this. He can’t do this. 

Then he looks at Sydney and she looks so resigned. 

She’s his soulmate, she’s stitched into his heart and literally written on his skin. 

“At times you’re going to be overwhelmed and taking five minutes to yourself to regulate and get back to calm might feel silly or uncomfortable or rude but it maybe your best choice in the moment,” Terri’s kind voice is in his ear and he stands. 

“I just…five-five minutes.” And he goes into the bathroom and sits on the rim of the bathtub like he likes to do when Syd takes baths. 

His hands are shaking. Thoughts racing. 

Michael. Mikey. Sugar. Nat. Donna. Mom. The Beef. The Bear. Chef Terry. New York Chef. New York. Copenhagen. Malibu. Napa. Iceland. Paris. London. Puerto Rico. Chicago. Cousin. Eva. Mikey. Sydney-Sydney-Sydney. Forgiveness and love and grace and death and fear and abandonment and avoidance and patience and love and love and Sydney. Family. 

His hands stops shaking and he can breathe as he stands, looks in the mirror. And goes back out to the love of his life. 

“I’m sorry-“ “It’s okay, I’m proud of you.” She interrupts. Carmy blushes, nods and sits down next to her. 

He takes her hands in his, kisses her knuckles and smiles at her. Grins at her. 

“You’re going to be so fucking good at this.” He says, Syd laughs shaking her head. “No you are. And I’m just…thank you. For trusting me and giving me time. And this,” he glances at her stomach then back at her dark eyes, the brown of the soil and of her skin especially when she’s just put on her cacao butter and morning coffee and the warmth of firewood and all good things. “This is amazing and I never- you know I never but I think we can-together maybe, I think it’ll be okay. It’ll be great you know?”

“Yeah, Carm,” Syd says wrapping one hand around the side of his neck where her name is, color fading likes it supposed to and just part of his skin like all his other tattoos like all the other parts of him, and cupping his jaw with the other. “It’s us you know?”

“Yeah, its ours.”

“Exactly.”

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: Sam Drake x male reader

req: no | wc: 1k

summary: Sam Drake has four little birds tattooed on his neck. He hadn't thought about what that might mean for his lovers.

warnings: suggestive, making out, neck kissing, neck biting, feminization (at Sam, just a nickname)

a/n: i finished uncharted 4 yesterday

Sam's meaning for the four little birds on his neck was freedom. Though their blue coloring had long since faded and their black outlines were beginning to thin out, the meaning still held true for him. Freedom was, unequivocally, one of his defining values.

It was the reason he got the tattoo something over a decade ago. The birds and their freedom were his hope, and sometimes, they were his wish.

Although Sam Drake liked to remain amorous and flirtatious, he hadn't thought about that romantic kind of aspect when getting the tattoo.

Except... he wasn't so sure this was specifically romantic.

The dim streetlights barely shined through the shoddy motel blinds, leaving hardly anything perceivable to vision in the room. Sam didn't need them anyway, and clearly, neither did you. He was mighty excited to test his new freedom, and you were just perfect for it.

"You're–" You're interrupted mid-sentence as Sam steals another kiss, pressing himself closer to you. "eager."

"Believe it or not," The time spent apart from your lips was infuriating, but he supposed he could settle for the warmth and skin to skin contact as he spoke. To say he was "all up on you" was an understatement. Everywhere he could touch, he did. His hands were wrapped around you midriff and one of his legs 'round your waist. "I just broke out of prison."

You scoff into the next kiss.

The light switch was right next to the door, but it was barely opened until it was slammed shut again, and slammed against it, another body.

The dim lights left everything up for imagination, except for the parts that shined. Sam's neck was one.

It's not long before the long, passionate kisses turn sloppy and not any longer until your hands begin to wander. Sam catches one of them as it sinks below his shirt. It's cold from the brisk air of the night and it's such a contrast against his positively burning skin. Regardless of his flaming vigor, he catches it in his hand. "Are you sure–"

"Yes."

Your kisses lead down his stubbled chin and towards his neck, where, finally, you catch sight of his tattoo. "Four little birds." You breathe out.

"Yeah." Sam's eyes are trained on your lips. They're rosy and swollen, slightly parted. They, and the skin around them, shines under the light. He wants to kiss you... but he also wants you to kiss him. "Do you like 'em?"

You press a kiss to one in reply. "Does that tell you anything?"

"It tells me a lot," His breath hitches when you dare to nip at the blue bird. The rest of his sentence comes out rushed. "of things."

It was amusing how easy it was to make him break simple speech. "Like?"

"Well..." Sam takes a moment to think, but it doesn't last long before his mind becomes jumbled in love. The nip, using only your lips, turns into a lick. The saliva chills the spot on his neck, turns it cool against the heat radiating between you two. When some semblance of coherence even returns to his mind, your teeth make a mark against neck.

""Well" what?"

He gulps. The movement of his Adam's apple is loud and clear within your view, and though very attractive, it wasn't your focus. "You like it."

"What's it?" The next bird is much too clean, untainted. You press a kiss to it as you await an answer, a real answer, from your lover boy.

"Nipping." In response to that, you nip at the blue bird. Sam leans his head back against the wooden door with an unmeditated caution, causing a noticeable thud to ring out within the room.

Sam doesn't acknowledge it, but you do. "Are you alright, princess?"

He groans pleasedly at the nickname, threading multiple fingers through your hair and leaving them tangled. A blush sprouts at the edges of his cheeks as he registers the sound. "Y-Yes."

You, too, seem pleased at the sound as you make another rewarding mark on the second blue bird.

Sam moans again, less shameful about it now. Still, he keeps his gaze away from you, afraid of facing those eyes of yours and ending this moment too quickly. His hand clenches yours instinctually, and suddenly you're reminded of its position.

Your hand's chill has turned into a warmth now, against his hot skin. You bring it slowly up his side, no doubt causing shivers to run down his spine. To him, it feels like more than just pleasure. The roughness of your fingers running across the expanse of his smooth skin causes pleasure and shivers and goosebumps and shockwaves. His body reacts absolutely animalistically, causing his hips to buck forward.

"Is there anything more to tell?" You press a small peck against the next bird.

He smiles down at you, finally finding the courage to look into your eyes. They burn, bright even in this dark room, and he can tell they're half-lidded. "You're amazing with your tongue."

A chuckle escapes your lips, quickly followed by your hot tongue darting between them to wet the third bird tattooed on his supple neck. Sam quirks his head at you with a look undoubtedly covered in love and lust, but most of all pleading. You obey him without a price, marking him for the third time.

Sam laughs, the divine rasp of the thousand cigarettes under his lifetime belt unhidden. Ecstasy rises in its tone along with it.

"Anything–?"

The next thing he says is already well thought out in his mind. "You like them, those blue little birds."

"You're wrong," Sam, at first, gasps when you skip nip and lick and go straight into bite. Your teeth are harsh and rough against his delicate, aging skin but he's utterly in love; he lets that love show in clear, beautiful, breathy moans worthy of a princess. "I love them."

Your hand slides down his side, much wilder, much faster, and he doesn't have the time to prepare himself.