#a hope in hell was particularly beautiful

[babesway22]

“In Too Deep” part 11

Vox x fem!reader// NSFW 18+ // 🔞minors do not enter 🔞

Summary: After a strange week you get offered a job working for hell's biggest asshole but does he have a soft spot for you? Or is he just using you?

You stood before the grand full-length mirror and carefully smoothed out any imperceptible creases, hoping to alleviate your nervousness. Your eyes narrowed and scanned your form, taking in your soft makeup and long hair that cascaded around your face. The dress was breathtaking, made of a fragile, flowing black fabric that gracefully fell onto the floor, accentuating your soft curves in all the right places, and secretly concealed beneath was an irresistible combination of black and royal blue lingerie. You glanced at the clock again, the time reading 7:45. Vox had promised to pick you up at 8, leaving you just enough time to potentially succumb to a nervous breakdown. Your inexplicable anxiety puzzled you; where was he taking you? Why a date now after everything? Admittedly, any romantic gesture from him had the power to plunge you into a frenzy, with a telltale deep blush unfailingly betraying your genuine emotions without fail. Perhaps that was the reason for your turmoil? You laughed at your talent for exacerbating any situation and settled onto the couch, leaning forward gracefully to slip your feet into sophisticated heels. Despite the added height they provided, you knew that they would never make you taller than him, something you always found incredibly attractive, his towering height over you and others creating a sense of admiration and allure whenever you stared up at him. As you hoisted yourself up from the couch, you gave everything one last once-over before making your way to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine, hoping it would calm your nerves. Just as you began to fill a glass, a sudden knocking at the door startled you, causing the wine to spill over the rim.

“Fuck,” you groaned, grabbing a nearby towel and cleaning the mess. “Come in!" you eagerly yelled from the floor. Cor carefully turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, his figure concealed behind an extravagant bouquet that seemed larger than life. "Miss?" he called out tentatively, his voice conveying uncertainty as he scanned the room, unable to locate you immediately. Upon hearing his familiar voice, you swiftly sprang up from the floor, hastily discarding the towel as you moved to greet him. You started to speak, but a gasp of astonishment overcame you. Before you lay a mesmerizing sight – a bouquet filled with otherworldly flowers of the most vibrant and intriguing colors. Shades of blue, red, and violet intertwined in a symphony of hues, each blossom and bud displaying an enigmatic beauty you had never encountered before. Cor placed the flowers on the counter and glanced at the intricate details of each small petal. "He's finishing up a meeting at the moment, miss," Cor informed, his voice tinged with anticipation and respect.

As you gazed in awe, you whispered, "They're stunning," while delicately running your fingers over the velvety petals of a particularly striking and unusual blossom. With a playful glint in his eye, Cor responded, "He certainly knows how to impress," accompanied by a knowing wink.

"Tell me, Cor, where is he taking me?" you turned to him with a mischievous smirk, the corners of your lips curling upward. The dimming sunlight danced across your face, highlighting the flecks of mischief in your eyes.

"My lips are sealed," he chuckled, a warm glint in his eyes as he gestured with his hand, mimicking the action of zipping his mouth closed. The playful sparkle in his eyes matched the infectious energy in his voice, creating an atmosphere of lighthearted secrecy.

“Mmm, thought you'd say that," you hummed, turning back to the vibrant bouquet, absently rearranging them. A long pause blanketed the room, the silence heavy with anticipation before you spoke again. "I'm quite nervous, and I don't know why," you laughed softly, a nervous tinge underlying your words. "I mean, he's terrifying, an overlord feared by so many souls, but with me, he's surprisingly gentle. It's just hard to believe that he actually cares for me," you finished, your voice trailing off as you pondered the complexities of your situation.

"Are you starting to doubt his affection?" Cor asked, his voice betraying a hint of shock.

"No, no," you replied, meeting his gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and reassurance. “he's just.-”

“Unpredictable?” Cor finished, walking over to where you stood and placing a hand on your arm. “Vox has been a part of my life for a long time, and I've realized that he can be quite enigmatic and challenging to know truly. However, I can assure you that he holds deep feelings for you," he expressed with a heartfelt shake of his head.

"Cor, your insights are always so enlightening. I think my self-doubt is just getting the best of me. I've never experienced this kind of love before, and it feels almost surreal," you whispered softly, gently placing your hand over his and forcing a tight smile.

“You deserve this love; believe in it and give him time to show himself to you; the combination of Vox and emotions has never been a natural fit, but I can't help but notice a transformation whenever he's in your presence. It's as if a new side of him emerges, revealing a depth of emotion and vulnerability that is rarely seen. Ah, but I digress,” he sighed, glancing at his watch. "He'll be here soon. He looks quite dashing tonight if I do say so myself." His hearty laughter filled the room as he departed, the door closing gently behind him.

You peered around the corner, making sure he was gone, and let out a huge huff of air, running to the bathroom to tidy yourself up for the third time before Vox got here. It was like you were in high school again, waiting for your crush to pick you up for prom. “Fuuuuuck,” you whined, pacing in front of the mirror and fanning your face. “Okay, it's fine. He's my boyfriend; we've fucked like 100 times, get it together, but he's super hot,” you groaned, frustratingly sweeping a piece of hair behind your ear and re-applying your lipstick. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you couldn't help but scowl at the uneasiness creeping into your mind. "Why am I giving myself a pep talk?" you muttered, trying to shake off the self-doubt. With a deep breath, you turned away from the mirror and made your way into the kitchen. Your hand reached for the half-empty wine glass left on the counter, and you downed the remaining contents in one swift motion. The cool liquid provided a momentary escape as you poured yourself another glass, the rich aroma filling the air. Lost in your thoughts, you were completely unaware of his quiet entrance into the room.

“Nervous?” Vox's deep voice reverberated through the kitchen, causing you to let out a startled scream. You spun around to face him, clutching your chest. "Vox, you-” your voice trailed off; you couldn't help but notice the way he stood before you. Hot, he was so hot, you reminded yourself. Completely unashamed, your eyes leisurely trailed up and down his slender form, taking in every detail. He was dressed in a black button-up shirt of the highest quality, with the first few buttons open, revealing a glimpse of his neck and a hint of his chest. The fabric on his arms was rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms, which were tucked behind his back, and dark slacks that fit his hips and legs perfectly, accentuating his every movement and making your mouth hang open in admiration. “Yes," you squeaked finally, the words barely escaping your lips as you summoned the courage to meet his intense crimson eyes, and that did it, the nail in your figurative coffin. A rush of emotions swept over you, causing your knees to suddenly feel weak and a deep, embarrassing blush to spread across your face, betraying the effect he had on you.

His deep hum filled the air as he sauntered over to you, his slender fingers reaching out and toying with the delicate strap of your dress, eliciting a breathy sigh of desire from your lips. "Do you like the flowers?" he murmured, his intense gaze fixed on your mouth, causing you to quiver under the weight of his stare. “Very much,” you looked up at him with a subtle tilt of your head, your eyes veiled by long, dark lashes. The air crackled with palpable tension, weighing heavily on the space between you, making it feel like it might stifle any movement or sound.

“Good, good,” he grabbed the wine from you and set it on the counter, backing you into the nearby wall and making you gasp. “Tonights special sweetheart, I can't ruin this dress and your pretty make up before our date, but boy, do I want to,” he growled, tilting your head back and bending down to place hot kisses on your neck, a breathy moan leaving you. “Vox, please,” you pleaded, pouting as he reluctantly disentangled himself from you and straightened up to his full height. "No, no, no," he scolded gently, holding your hand and drawing you close to his chest. "Ready?" He inquired, his self-assured grin eliciting a giggle from you.

"Ready," you smiled, holding onto him tightly. Although it hadn't been explicitly mentioned, you both knew that teleportation was the safest mode of travel. Your body slowly acclimated to the sensation of tearing through the air, propelled by crackling electricity.

*********

You stumbled into the dimly lit street from a nearby alleyway; your heels scraping against the rough concrete echoed in the still night air. You felt a strong arm belonging to Vox wrap tightly around your waist, providing much-needed support as you struggled to regain your balance. “I'm sorry, doll," Vox murmured softly, his deep voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the city. He allowed you to lean into his arm, giving you the stability to adjust yourself and catch your breath. As you gazed out at the city, his eyes were fixed on you, observing your reaction to the urban landscape. There was little hustle and bustle in the area where you stood, with only occasional glimpses of demons and neglected, aging buildings. Your inquisitive nature was piqued, and you couldn't help but wonder why you were in this particular location, especially since you seemed to be dressed more formally than necessary.

"It's just a few blocks down the street where we'll be heading. I was thinking we could walk," he said, clearing his throat nervously. His eyes concealed an emotion that seemed just out of reach, leaving you with a sense of unease, but without hesitation, you smiled—allowing him to gently tuck you under his arm, his hand finding its place on your waist. "You're so protective," you said softly, your gaze following his sharp eyes as they tracked a demon walking on the opposite side of the street.

"I don't enjoy parting with what belongs to me," he uttered with a dark intensity, his gaze unwavering from the demon. It always stirred a sense of admiration within you whenever you were reminded of his formidable strength, having heard stories of him ripping souls in half when he was on a rampage. His gaze returned to you, and a gentle, lopsided smile graced his face. "You look stunning," he whispered, his voice brimming with affection. In that moment, you felt a sense of security and comfort, knowing that he was there for you as your protector.

“Thank you, though I feel a bit too formally dressed," you chuckled, glancing down at your attire's delicate, thin fabric.

"You're not overdressed. We're almost there," his voice took on that enigmatic tone again, causing a mysterious swirl of emotions in your stomach. You suddenly found your mind flooded with so many possibilities. What if he was taking you to this particular place to break up with you? The thought of him telling you things weren't working out made you anxious. You made a conscious effort to push these thoughts down, not wanting them to ruin your evening. “Can I cover your eyes?" he inquired, gazing at you anxiously.

"Alright," you agreed, placing your complete trust in the man you adored. His large hand gently shielded your eyes, enveloping you in its comforting warmth.

“Be careful, baby. You seem a bit clumsy. I can hardly imagine you were once a dancer," he remarked, laughing as you attempted to playfully swat at him. “I was actually a fantastic dancer, thank you very much," you playfully scolded back, then gasped as your feet landed on unfamiliar ground—was it dirt or grass? It was hard to tell.

“Nearly there," he said, steadying you with a gentle touch on your shoulders. "Okay," he murmured, removing his hand from your eyes. As you blinked and acclimated to the subdued light, a gasp escaped your lips as you beheld the scene around you. You whirled around to gaze at Vox; his arms were folded behind his back, his eyes fixed on the heavens.

"Vox, did you do all of this?" you asked in disbelief, your voice trembling with shock.

"I did, yeah," he replied, his demeanor unusually quiet and guarded, his eyes avoiding yours as if concealing a deeper truth. You whirled back around, allowing yourself to fully absorb the surroundings again. Before you lay a breathtaking, enchanting forest, brimming with the same flowers that adorned your bouquet at V towers. Lofty, majestic trees enclosed you from all sides, and in the center stood a quaint gazebo adorned with a cozy arrangement of candles, flowers, and wine.

“What is this place? All my years in hell, and I've never heard of it,” you asked, walking to stand before him.

“Not many do. When I first arrived in hell, I was utterly bewildered and frightened, of course. Sure, I had committed some heinous acts, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that such a place could exist. I mean, the concept of God, Lucifer, Heaven, and Hell - none of it ever resonated with me when I was alive," he explained, his eyes reflecting a mix of disbelief and contemplation as he gazed out into the seemingly infinite expanse of the forest. "But, uh. I used to visit this place frequently during those initial years. The surroundings somehow evoked memories of home for me. I would find a quiet spot in the grass and sit there, lost in my thoughts..." His voice trailed off into a reflective silence as he looked down at you. At that moment, a profound and tranquil silence wrapped around both of you, creating a sense of deep connection and understanding. "It's truly beautiful, thank you," you said warmly, picking up on his uneasiness in expressing his emotions.

"Anything for you, doll," he whispered in a low, husky voice, his eyes gleaming with an obsessive intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. The dim light caught the glint in his eyes, casting eerie shadows across his face, adding an unsettling edge to his demeanor. He extended his long arm, gesturing to the intimate setting, "I got your favorite wine. Would you like some?"

"Please," you whispered, feeling that dammed blush spread across your cheeks as he guided you and pulled out the chair for you.

“So," he cleared his throat, eyes scanning the forest for any sign of danger as he spoke. His typically cocky and arrogant manner had been replaced by something else, something you were still trying to decipher. "Feel free to ask me anything about my past or present.”

“Anything?" you asked playfully, reaching for the elegant crystal glass of rich, velvety red wine. As you brought it to your lips, the bold and complex flavors danced on your tongue, eliciting a contented hum of appreciation.

"Go ahead, show me what you've got," he replied with a sly smile, his eyebrow arching as he awaited your questions.

“Um, okay. You mentioned that you were never married. Did you have any romantic relationships while you were on Earth or here? Or why did you choose not to marry? You mentioned that you were older when you passed, so,” you asked, your knee bouncing nervously beneath the table.

“I was always preoccupied with work and couldn't commit to any serious relationships. I did have a few casual girlfriends over the years, but nothing ever lasted. Looking back, I know I wasn't the best version of myself, so I can't blame them for not wanting to stick around. As for here," he paused to take a long sip of his wine, "it's just been a series of meaningless hookups.”

“Oh,” you muttered as you mindlessly stared into the field; the words "meaningless hookups" stung slightly, leaving you wondering if that was all you meant to him. Finally summoning the courage, you glanced back at him and gestured toward the sky with a subtle chin movement. "Did you take many lives up there?" He replied in a curt and dangerous tone, "A few.” You paused briefly, allowing the question to marinate in your mind before deciding whether to ask it. "Will you grow tired of me, just like you did with them? Too busy with work?” you asked, the firmness in your voice unintentionally revealing your inner turmoil. As the words left your lips, you pinched your knee, almost as if to physically reprimand yourself for posing such a challenging and self-sabotaging question. His response was a firm “no,” accompanied by a quizzical furrowing of his eyebrows, clearly indicating his confusion at where the conversation was headed.

“I have this fear, Vox-,” you sighed, gripping your glass tightly, “that I'm not worthy of love but only deserving of pain and hatred because it's all I had ever known. When he was beating me towards the end, I screamed ‘I love you’ at the top of my lungs until I couldn't anymore. Because surely love would have saved me, right? But, I was mistaken, and my perspective on love changed drastically," you gazed into Vox's eyes, witnessing the anguish that clouded his handsome features. "Until I encountered you and plunged into an overwhelming affection, but I'm scared, Vox. I'm so scared that you'll hurt me too," you held back tears, taking a large sip of wine to temporarily quell the emotions, and cast your eyes downward, feeling a sense of shame as you made your confession.

You heard him shift in his seat, the old wooden chair groaning as he leaned in closer, the sound echoing in the small space. "What do you need from me? What words can I utter to convey the depth of my love for you?" he implored, his voice resonating with a desperate sense of urgency as if his entire being hinged on your understanding.

"Vox," you whispered, your voice catching in your throat as you met his intense gaze again. Goosebumps rose on your skin, sending a shudder through your body at the sheer intensity of his presence. Suddenly, he stood up, his eyes never leaving yours, and made his way over to you. Dropping to his knees in front of you.

“I can't, I can't do this without you; what do you need from me?” his voice distorting, making him growl in frustration. You watched as metallic-colored tears began to cascade down his screen, trickling onto his crisp dress shirt. His trembling fingers hastily brushed them away, leaving behind a mysterious fluid that stained the back of his hand. "No," he gasped, his breath coming in ragged bursts then, as if a sudden realization had dawned on him, a gut-wrenching sob erupted from his throat, his red eyes locking onto yours, desperately searching your face.

“Vox," your melodious voice gently beckoned to him as you knelt on the ground to meet him. “You're crying," you whispered, a delicate hand reaching out to catch the shimmering droplets. His intense gaze bore down on you; his eyebrows knit together in a deep furrow of concern. He was acutely aware of the discomfort the unyielding concrete must be inflicting on your knees, yet here you were, unwavering, embodying a picture of resolute perfection. His emotions had always been unpredictable, and he understood the challenge it must have presented for you, but you never faltered. You were a steady presence amid his turbulent emotions, a beacon of strength in his most tumultuous moments.

“Fuck,” He shook his head, his mind swirling with a tumultuous mix of emotions. Desperation clawed at his chest as he struggled to remove the overwhelming intensity of his feelings. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "But I can only hope that this will help you understand how much I love you,” he reached into his pocket and carefully extracted a small, elegant black box, its smooth surface catching the soft glow of the lamps. As he tightly squeezed it in his hand, you watched with wide eyes. When he looked back up at you, you realized what was happening, and your chest rose and fell as you struggled to draw in enough air. “Vox- you began, but he cut you off.

“No, no, let me talk. Please. When you do this to me, it's like a surge of life coursing through my veins, awakening emotions I never knew existed within me. I mean, I just cried; I can't remember the last time I did, and I know I may not fully comprehend these feelings, but I'm trying, baby, I'm trying. Let me give you everything I have to offer to shield you from any harm and to prove you're deserving of love, and fuck, I know I have a skewed idea of love, but teach me, mold me for you,” he pleaded, then looked down to carefully

open the box, revealing a breathtaking diamond ring with intricate details on the band. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice filled with emotion. You stared at him momentarily, a single tear sliding down your face. As he noticed your lack of response, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, and you could see the panic set in, his eyes searching yours desperately for any sign of understanding or reassurance. But before he could second-guess your reaction any longer, you took a deep breath and boldly jumped into his lap, feeling the warmth of his body as he instinctively wrapped his arms around you protectively. The sudden movement caused him to fall onto his back with a loud groan, but his hold on you remained firm and secure.

"Yes, Vox, yes," you whispered into his neck, punctuating each word with a tender kiss. "Yes," you repeated, a genuine grin spreading across your face as you sat up and straddled his lap. Looking down at him, you extended your hand in an inviting gesture.

“Do you like it?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation. After carefully slipping the ring onto your finger, you couldn't help but wonder briefly how he knew your ring size, but you decided to save that question for another day. As you extended your hand towards the light, the diamonds embedded in the delicate band shimmered brilliantly, reflecting the gentle glow and casting tiny prisms of color onto your skin. The way the light played off the facets of the diamonds made them seem to come alive, creating a mesmerizing dance of sparkle and shine that captivated your gaze.

"It's stunning, Vox," you whispered, your breath catching in your throat as you leaned in closer, resting your head against his chest. The soft fabric of his shirt brushed against your cheek, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. His fingertips tenderly traced the contours of your long hair, each stroke sending a delightful tingle down your spine as you surrendered to the comforting warmth of his embrace.

"I have a little surprise for you, too, although I don't think it can top this," you giggled, feeling the lightness of the moment as you sat back up, your hands finding their place on his chest. His eyebrow arched inquisitively as he raised his head from the ground.

"Would you mind taking me home?" you asked playfully, feeling a warmth spread across your cheeks and nose

“Whatever you want, Mrs.,” he flashed his sharp teeth and sat up, shifting you onto his lap and standing, the strength of his thighs pushing onto the back of yours as he stood, making you needy.

*********

“Sit riiiiight there," you giggled nervously, your heart racing as you gently guided him down onto the plush couch in the cozy living area of your shared suite. The evening had been filled with a palpable tension, and you couldn't wait any longer to be back home. The urgency of the moment spurred you to make swift work of getting back, eager to be alone together in the comfort of your own space.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mused, his eyes growing dark.

“Your turn to cover your eyes,” you said shyly, smiling as he did so.

“Should I be worried? It's not a pet, is it?" he said, his voice tinged with disgust at the mere thought of a furry creature stealing your attention away from him.

“Not a pet, but now that you mention it,” you called out playfully over your shoulder, heading to the bathroom

"Not gonna happen," you heard him grumble, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but watch as he leaned back onto the couch, stretching his lean body, his legs spreading open in a relaxed manner that always caught your attention. As he did so, you found yourself biting your lip, unable to tear your gaze away. He always exuded a magnetic charm, making you squeeze your thighs together needily.

When the bathroom door closed, you whirled around and gazed at your reflection in the mirror. A mischievous grin spread across your face as you contemplated marrying the most alluring overlord in hell. You couldn't help but revel in the thought of the other girls and demons who had been eagerly vying for his attention. Eat your hearts out, you thought as you slipped the dress off. You tilted your head, marveling at the intricate beauty of the lingerie Velvette had created, always entrancing you with her craftsmanship. After making minor adjustments, you pinched your cheeks for a rosy hue and cautiously opened the door to check if his eyes were still concealed. As soon as he heard the sound of your heels tapping against the floor, he subtly tensed up. You couldn't help but chuckle at the idea of him imagining that you were keeping something mysterious from him.

“You're making me nervous,” he bemused, his foot beginning to tap impatiently. Your eyes followed the movement as you took a moment to admire him.

“It's nothing like that,” you said, your voice soft yet tempting as you came to stand between his open legs. “You can open them,” you said bashfully, crossing your legs over each other and placing your arms behind your back.

“Yeah, well, with you, I can never be sure what you're…. up to,” he trailed off as soon as he removed his hand, his crimson eyes intense as they trailed over your body.

“Do you like it?” you asked, and at his lack of response, you began fidgeting with the lace garter.

“Fuu-ccc-kkkkk,” his screen and voice distorted, a blue screen displaying momentarily. “My soon-to-be wife, holy shiiiiit,” he shook his head in disbelief and grabbed onto your hips, immediately pulling you down onto his lap. His hands trailed over your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “All mine,” he said possessively and yanked your head back, pushing your breast into his face and exposing your graceful neck to him. You felt his breath on your skin, making you moan loudly.

“Pretty girl, and pretty sounds. Just for me,” he whispered into your skin, followed by hot kisses that trailed down your neck to the swell of your breast. “I need you to be a good girl and cum for me as many times as I want, do you understand? Nod, yes or no,” he demanded, his voice laced with darkness as his grip on your hair tightened to a painful sting. You nodded yes as much as you could while held in the position. “Good girl”. You loved when he was dominant like this, the only man, in fact, that you allowed to assert his dominance on you, your trust in him unwavering. Besides, he had bared his emotions to you tonight like never before; he needed this. He needed control. And you were all too willing to give it to him.

“Stand up and turn around,” he said sharply, a resounding slap filling your ears, the pain coming next as a red mark marred the skin on your ass. “I said, stand up,” he hissed. You jumped from his lap this time, obeying. His hands found your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, making you whine, “I bet you're wet already, hm? I've hardly touched you. You're filthy, you know that? I remember when you were a meek office assistant at that low-end job, wearing that slutty little skirt,” he seethed as his fingers sank into your entrance, soaking his two digits thoroughly, a breathy moan spilling from your lips.

“Vox, fuck me,” you mewled, back arching inward as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, the lace

of your thong rubbing against your clit.

“Beg,” he spoke. It was one word, but it held so much power.

“Please, please, fuck me,” you pleaded pathetically, but you'd do it again, all for him.

“I'm not convinced,” he growled and spun you around, pushing you to the floor, your knees hitting the ground for him the second time tonight but for entirely different reasons. You stared up at him, his pupils blown out and lips pulled into a snarl, exposing his sharp teeth. He was hot like this, unhinged and manic. It made you want to do bad things for him, to please him.

“Please, I’ll do anything, anything,” the last word hardly above a whisper, your hands reaching for his lap, plaming his impressive length through his pants.

“Who do you belong to?” he snarled, grabbing a fistful of your hair again, the other freeing himself. His hand ran up and down the length a few times, making your mouth water. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips in anticipation.

“I said, WHO DO YOU BELONG TO?” he hissed impatiently, but as you began to answer, he grabbed your jaw and squeezed until your mouth fell open, and shoved his dick in, making you gag as it hit the back of your throat. You greedily lapped your tongue on the underside, urging him to push your head deeper until spit spilled from the corners of your mouth.

“What a good girl,” he said, fisting your hair and removing you off his dick. “Now, who do you belong to?” he raised his brows expectantly as you caught your breath.

“You Vox, you,” you panted. You wanted to rub your clit to release the painful pressure building, but you knew better. You wanted him to be in control. His dominance was smothering, but you craved it and would shamelessly beg for him to be this way if he asked.

“I have you for internity now, pretty girl,” he said, lowering his face down to you, “sit on my dick and use it until you cum,” he whispered, releasing your hair, making you fall backward slightly. He sat back and stared down at you, his crimson eyes lidded with power and lust, a lethal concoction. He smiled deviously, his head following you as you rose from the floor, watching as you placed your hands on either side of his broad shoulders and straddled him, your hips slowly lowering onto his throbbing dick. You threw your head back to the heavens as the tip entered you; although wet, he was still a tight squeeze, the biggest you've ever had.

“Fuck,” you whined as you started a steady pace, using his shoulders as leverage. The wet squelches damning, and fithly but he loved it.

“Fuck me harder,” he growled, grabbing your throat into one large hand. You did as he asked, slamming your hips down onto him until that familiar pressure began to build in your stomach, the need for release almost painful.

“Cum,” he whispered hotly into your ear, and as if he was the conductor to your body, you screamed, the orgasm wrecking through you. The squeeze and release of the muscles inside you was euphoric and powerful, leaving you slummed over as it wracked through you, his hand on your throat the only thing holding you up.

“Filthy. Look at you now, begging for my dick. Cumming when I say,” he clicked his tongue at you a few times in mock disappointment.

“I love you,” you managed through hot pants, the blissful high of the orgasm still lingering.

“I love you, pretty girl. I'm going to fuck you so hard you’ll think of me every time you take a step, do you understand. Can you take that?” he asked, eyes staring at you intensely, pupils still blown out, “Nod, yes or no, baby. I need to know.” You nodded, your fate sealed. You yelped when he stood up, your fingers interlocking together behind his neck for support as he carried you, setting you down on the kitchen island, the perfect height for him to destroy you.

“You're incredibly beautiful," he said, his voice carrying a hint of tenderness that contrasted with the intense energy exuding from the man standing before you. His hands ran up your sides and down your back, unlatching the lace bra, allowing your breast to spill out freely as it dropped to the floor. He cupped them in his hands, squeezing the soft flesh and rolling the nipples into buds in his fingers until they were hardened peaks. You whimpered his name, eliciting a throaty growl from him. He lined up his cock at your entrance and pushed in, his eyes rolling closed at the velvety warm hug of your walls. “Don't cum until I say, if you do, I'll stop. Do you understand” You nodded eagerly, although you weren't sure if it was possible; he had always made you cum quickly, but you faced the challenge nonetheless. His fingers bruised your hips as he pulled you down onto each brutal thrust upward, the snap and angle of his hips percise to do as much damage as possible, the hieght of the counter perfect. You reached out to him, needing some source of leverage not to fall backward, finding solace in his biceps, the muscles tightening under the tortuous rhythm he was setting.

“I need to cum. Vox, please,” you whined, each word broken as the air left your lungs.

“NO,” he barked, clenching his teeth together. You tried to focus on anything else; Lucifer forbid he stop because of your climax. A hand moved to your throat and began to squeeze, a welcome distraction for the time being. “Look at you, baby. Covered in sweat, taking my cock. What a good girl,” he praised, making you swell with pride.

“No, no, I'm gonna cum,” you began to chant over and over, your eyes rolling closed, your grip on his arms becoming intense.

“Yeah? You gonna cum?” he taunted, and just as your walls began to tighten, he slowed to a sloppy pace, smothering the orgasm from existence.

“You asshole,” you seethed, eyes shooting open to glare up at him, nails gripping into his arms. You had hoped they were leaving marks.

“Watch your mouth,” he growled, the hand around your throat tightening in warning. “Look at that,” he hissed through his teeth, staring between your bodies as he slowly pulled all the way out and pushed back in, your arousal dripping off his dick onto the counter.

“I can't last, Vox-” you began to whimper, tears stinging the corner of your eyes. “I need to cum”

“Poor girl,” he mocked, “oh fuck, you weren't kidding,” he laughed maniacally, your hot walls beginning to squeeze him again. His thumb started a tortuous assault on your clit, rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves slipping off every second or so because of how soaked you were.

“Pleaseeeeeee, please, baby,” you cried out, tears streaming down your face now.

“Oh, I never hear you call me that; I like it,” he whispered into your ear, “more,” he growled demonically, making you shudder.

“Baby, I’ll do anything you want, ANYTHING,” you whined as he picked his pace back up, the head of his cock bruising your cervix. “Baby,” you began to repeat, your eyes rolling closed and your body lifting off the counter. Your mind had gone blank, his body the only thing consuming you.

“Oh, fuuuuuck. I love when you go dumb on my cock. It's been a while, hasn't it, sweetheart? What’s your name, huh?” he asked, his arrogant voice making you clench around him.

“I-I don't. I don't know,” you mumbled, hardly coherent.

“Cum, you filthy girl. Soak me,” he breathed into your ear, and that was it. Your body arched off the counter, his arms encircling your waist to hold you in place as the most intense orgasm of your existence tore you in two, a series of loud moans leaving you as the pulsating muscles inside you gripped him so hard that he choked, and studdered, words failing him as he spilled into you. Your orgasms intertwined with each other, a euphoric soul bond. As they subsided, nothing could be heard but your combined pants, your head dropped, resting on his chest, his heartbeat strong against your ear, calming you.

“I love you,” he panted, his fingers drawing small circles onto your back.

“I love you,” you hummed.

“For eternity?” he asked, his tenderness pulling at your heart

“For eternity,” you replied, safe in his arms as you would always be.

Here we are, guys, at the end. Whew, this was my first ever fic, and I cannot express how much I appreciate every interaction with it. Vox has been so fun to write, as has my sassy OC. I may do some kind of epilogue for these guys after they've been married sometime, but I have no planned time frame for that. I would absolutely love recommendations for future works.

Thank you to @redfoxwritesstuff for supporting a new writer; it means a lot. Of course, thank you to @annakade , @vvzhyxx , @lil-glum @cimadreamer and any other wonderful people I may be forgetting.

[red-akara]

I love the way the diner scene considers what the true nature of mankind is. The social rules we construct to maintain comfort while we dream of something better. Or giving in fully to our deepest desires, no matter how violent, no matter who we might hurt. Or somewhere in between.

Reporting live from the Sandman episode 4 & 5 ;)

[fiona-fififi]

...

[la-pheacienne]

I'm reading the lord of the rings and I'm once again amazed at how... good most characters are. Like, they are genuinely good people. They are a bunch of kindhearted, gracious, caring people, coming together under adverse circumstances and trying to figure things out and find a solution and support each other through it all. Like Frodo and Sam meet Faramir and Faramir is a bit suspicious at first and kind of implies Frodo may be a spy, and then when he hears his story and he's like Frodo, I pressed you so hard at first. Forgive me! It was unwise in such an hour and place. And this blows.my.mind. He wasn't even particularly mean or threatening to him in the beginning, he's just such a kind, considerate man, recognizing the kindness and honesty of another man. And they're all like that. Even Gollum starts slowly changing (for a short while) when he encounters Frodo because that's the thing about kindness and humility and grace, they are contagious. They transform people, even a creature like Gollum cannot be immune to that. Like, you may consider all this simple and basic and I get it but, hear me out. It is quite rare to see that in modern media and it is also pretty difficult to pull off in a way that is not corny and simplistic. It is mind blowing that you actually don't have to present the entire palette of human cruelty and vice in order to tell a compelling story, contrary to popular belief. Lotr does the exact opposite, and it is just beautiful and it warms my heart. Especially taking into consideration tolkien's pretty grim growing-up experience, him being a double orphan without a home, raised between an orphanage and a priest and having no family apart from his brother and then the war and then he almost dies and then he's poor as hell and then a second war and it all makes sense somehow. He writes to his wife who is also an orphan two days before the marriage "the next few years will bring us joy and content and love and sweetness such as could not be if we hadn't first been two homeless children and had found one another after long waiting" and, yes, yes! The love and sweetness just radiate from his work, the entire lotr series is a little radiant bubble of hope and love and grace that he imagined in his head to deal with a dismal reality and then he just gave that to the world, and isn't that what imagination and art is all about after all?

[r0ugesun]

I have a fluff maybe to slight spicy request for Aemond Targaryen if you are interested!

Aemond finally becomes betrothed to princess!reader of a different house (can be any it don’t matter) but has circulation problems so she’s always cold and therefore fretted over making Aemond believe she is spoiled. But upon being proven wrong from maybe bonding over books or hell training, falls in love and carries her to bed when the cold gets to her and her bed is just full of blankets to cuddle in.

(Aemond deserves all the intimacy and cuddles)

Thank you for sending me this request anon and sorry for the delay! Ur right Aemond deserves all the cuddles (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Synopsis: Princess y/n of House Martell arrives at the wintry Red Keep as Prince Aemond’s betrothed. As y/n’s warmth and intellect begin to break through Aemond’s icy exterior, he finds himself drawn to her. In return, Aemond’s protective embrace provides y/n the warmth she desperately needs.

Aemond x Martell!Reader

Prince Aemond Targaryen’s engagement to Princess y/n of House Martell was a union crafted to solidify political alliances. While their marriage was intended to serve as a strategic move, it was marred by the disparity in their circumstances. Princess y/n, renowned for her exotic beauty and noble grace, suffered from a rare condition that left her perpetually cold. This affliction required constant warmth, a need that Aemond initially perceived as a sign of pampering rather than genuine necessity.

From the moment y/n arrived at the red keep in the middle of a particularly harsh winter, the contrast between them was stark. The grand halls of the castle were adorned with tapestries of fearsome dragons and Targaryen banners, but y/n’s presence was marked by her constant need for warmth. She was swathed in layers of heavy furs, her every movement accompanied by a retinue of attendants. Aemond observed from a distance, noting her delicate appearance and the attentiveness of her servants. His initial impressions were marked by skepticism and a hint of disdain.

Their first meeting was formal, a carefully orchestrated affair. Aemond greeted her with his characteristic stoicism. “Princess y/n” he said, his tone courteous but distant, “I trust your journey was comfortable?”

Y/N offered a polite smile, though her eyes revealed a trace of weariness. “Thank you, Prince Aemond. The journey was long, but I am well. Though I must admit, the cold here is harsher than I expected.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his gaze indifferent. “You are accustomed to much warmer climates in dorne, I’m sure. Adapting to this cold must be challenging.”

Y/n’s voice was steady as she replied, “It is indeed a challenge, but I am here to fulfill my duty. I hope to contribute meaningfully despite the discomfort.”

Aemond's eyes remained cold as he regarded

Y/n. "Your sense of duty is admirable, though I can't help but wonder if you’ll be a hindrance rather than a help."

Y/N’s eyes flashed with sharpness, though her smile remained placid. She titled her head slightly before she spoke.

“I suppose we'll find out soon enough. I’ve faced challenges before. If I can endure the cold, I’m certain I can manage other… inconveniences.”

Aemond’s lips curled slightly in a thin smile, more of a smirk than a genuine expression of amusement. “Mmm. I wonder if your resolve will hold up as well when faced with the less glamorous aspects of life here.”

“Let’s hope” y/n replied smoothly. “It’s one thing to endure the elements, another to contend with a lack of charm.”

Aemond’s gaze sharpened slightly, but his tone remained even. “Charm is not a luxury I indulge in, Princess. I prefer matters of substance.”

Y/n had a smirk of her own now, her expression thoughtful. “Substance is important, but so is the ability to navigate social graces. Otherwise, one might come off as... unlikable.”

Aemond’s expression did not shift. “And you, Princess, are known for your social prowess?”

“I am known for many things, my prince” y/n said with a wry smile.

“Including the ability to keep my composure even when faced with frosty reception—both literal and figurative.”

Aemond’s eyes flickered with a hint of respect, though he quickly masked it with his usual stoicism. “We shall see if your composure extends to the political intricacies of our alliance.”

“I have no doubt it will” y/n replied confidently. “After all, if I can manage to stay warm and navigate through a wintry castle, I believe I can handle the complexities of court politics.”

Aemond regarded her with a piercing look, as if assessing whether her confidence was merely bravado or a genuine asset. “We shall see, indeed.”

Days passed, and the cold of King's Landing seemed even more relentless. Aemond, finding solace in the library's quiet, often retreated there to escape the castle's demands. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ancient tomes, he entered the library to find an unexpected sight: Y/N, comfortably nestled near the hearth, a thick fur draped over her shoulders, engrossed in a book.

Aemond paused, his usual stoic demeanor faltering for a moment. He approached her with measured steps, his curiosity piqued. "Princess" he greeted, his tone more neutral than before.

Y/blooked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes before she smiled with a hint of apprehension. "Prince Aemond. I didn't expect to see you here."

"The library is a place of comfort for me" he admitted, his gaze drifting over the bookshelves. "I come here often to escape the... noise."

Y/n nodded, her fingers tracing the edges of the book she held. "I think it’s quite peaceful myself. I find the histories of your lineage particularly fascinating."

As Aemond sat across from her, he noticed the title of the book in her hands. "The Histories of Dorne and Aegon the conquerer" he remarked. "An interesting choice."

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with interest. "I was just reading about Aegon’s failed conquest of Dorne. It seems he underestimated the resilience of the Dornish people."

Aemond’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "Aegon was a formidable conqueror, but he came unprepared, the Dornish have always been adept at guerrilla warfare, using the knowledge of their land to their advantage."

Y/n leaned forward slightly, her interest genuine. "Do you think he could have succeeded if he had approached the conquest differently?"

Aemond considered her question, appreciating the depth of her curiosity. "Perhaps. He tried to discredit your ancestors with slanders and rumors when his dragons failed, of course that endeavor proved fruitless as well, if it were me I would’ve hired mercenaries familiar with the terrain and the culture”

Y/n smiled wryly “Wars are not won with bloodshed alone my prince If he had been more willing to negotiate and form alliances rather than relying solely on brute force, he might have had a better chance. The Dornish value our independence highly, we would not bow to mere threats."

Aemond’s gaze softened, clearly intrigued by her insight. “It seems you have a keen grasp of the intricacies of the histories and strategy. I imagine you would have made a formidable advisor.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment, but she remained composed. “Thank you, my prince. I’ve always believed that knowledge and perspective are key to navigating both conflict and peace.”

Aemond’s smile widened slightly, a rare gesture that hinted at genuine admiration. “I look forward to hearing more of your perspectives.”

Their debates on the histories of the realm continued, the conversation flowing easily between them. They discussed strategies, historical figures, and the nuances of Dornish culture versus the Targaryen way of conquest. Aemond found himself increasingly drawn to her intellect and passion, her perspectives challenging and enlightening.

As the evening wore on, Aemond realized with a start that he was enjoying her company. Y/n’s confident demeanor were a stark contrast to his initial impressions. He found himself admiring the way she held her own in their debate, unafraid to challenge his views.

As the days turned into weeks, the cold of King's Landing seemed to grow less oppressive for y/n and Aemond, though winter’s bite was still unmistakable. One crisp afternoon, the pair decided to take a stroll through the Kingswood, a vast expanse of trees and tranquility that lay on the outskirts of the city.

Wrapped in their furs, they walked side by side, their conversation flowing as seamlessly as the wind through the trees. They continued their discussion of history. Aemond found himself enthralled by y/n’s insights and the way she animatedly discussed the events of the past.

As they wandered further into the wood, engrossed in their discourse, they lost track of time. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the temperature dropped sharply. Y/n’s delicate frame began to show signs of discomfort, her shivering becoming more pronounced.

Aemond’s keen eyes noticed her struggle first. “Princess, you appear distressed” he said, his voice laced with concern. “We should head back.”

Y/n tried to maintain her composure, but her attempts were faltering. “I’m quite cold” she admitted, her voice trembling. She winced as she took another step, her limp becoming more noticeable. “Perhaps... we should indeed return.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed as he observed her growing discomfort. Without a second thought, he scooped her into his arms with surprising ease. Y/n gasped, both startled and flustered by the sudden, intimate contact. Her cheeks flushed, though it was not entirely from the cold.

Aemond, maintaining a careful hold, began to carry her back through the woods. His stride was steady and purposeful, though he could not ignore the feeling of Y/N nestled close against him. The warmth of her body against his own was both a contrast to the frigid air and a comfort he had not anticipated.

As they neared the castle, Y/N’s embarrassment was palpable. She attempted to speak through her shivering. “M-my prince, you needn’t carry me. I can manage!”

Aemond’s gaze softened as he looked down at her. “You are in no condition to walk, Princess. Allow me to ensure you are safely returned to your chambers.”

Despite her initial resistance, Y/N found herself settling into his embrace, her coldness slowly melting away with each step Aemond took. The castle’s warmth greeted them as they entered, and Aemond carried her up the grand staircase, his movements deliberate and careful.

Upon reaching their chambers, Aemond gently set y/n down on the edge of the large, ornate bed. He took a moment to stoke the fire, ensuring the room was warm and inviting. Y/n watched him with a mixture of gratitude and bashfulness.

“Thank you” she said quietly as he helped her settle under the heavy, embroidered blankets. “I didn’t expect...”

Aemond interrupted her softly, a rare tenderness in his voice. “There is no need to thank me. It is my duty as your future husband to ensure your well being.”

As the fire crackled and the warmth enveloped her, y/n began to relax. Aemond, though maintaining his usual stoicism, could not ignore the growing affection he felt. He seated himself beside her, his presence a comforting shield against the chill.

Y/n looked at him, her eyes reflecting both relief and a newfound closeness. “You’ve been very kind, Aemond. I appreciate it more than you know.”

Aemond nodded, his own emotions subtly shifting. “I am glad to see you more comfortable. It would be remiss of me to let you suffer.”

The fire's glow cast a warm halo around them, and the room was filled with a tender intimacy that seemed to wrap around them like the softest of blankets. Y/n’s eyes met Aemond's, and for a moment, the world outside their secluded chamber fell away. The air was thick with an unspoken yearning, a deep desire that neither could ignore.

Aemond's gaze softened as he took in the sight of her, his usual composure giving way to a rare display of vulnerability. The warmth from the hearth made her cheeks flush, her lips slightly parted in a way that made Aemond's heart ache with a longing he had not anticipated. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch tender and lingering.

As he leaned in, their breaths mingled, warm and intertwined. The kiss that followed was not hurried but slow and filled with a profound tenderness. It was as if Aemond was trying to savor every moment, every sensation of her closeness. His lips moved gently against hers, exploring with a careful, reverent touch. The kiss was a quiet confession of his growing affection, a promise of warmth and devotion.

Y/n felt a delicious shiver of pleasure as he placed his warm hands under her dress and caressing her thighs, melting into his embrace, her cold body finally finding solace in the heat of his touch. Aemond's arms wrapped around her with a desperate kind of need, pulling her closer as if he could absorb her cold and make it his own. His warmth seemed to seep into her, chasing away the chill that had plagued her since her arrival.

With each press of his lips every soft touch under her clothes, Aemond conveyed a yearning that went beyond mere physical desire. It was a yearning for connection, for understanding, for something deeper than the political arrangement that had brought them together. His touch was both possessive and protective, He was a fire that would keep her brittle heart warm.

When they finally parted, their foreheads resting together, Aemond’s eye was filled with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

Y/n’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “You bring warmth to more than just my body, Aemond. You’re igniting something in me that I never knew I needed.”

Aemonds eye shone with a mix of relief and affection as he looked down at her. “I never thought I’d find comfort like this.”

Aemond’s smile was soft, almost shy, as he brushed his thumb lightly over her cheek as she spoke.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so unexpected can bring such warmth to our lives.”

Y/n nuzzled her nose with his and wrapped her leg over Aemond’s waist, drawing herself closer to him. The closeness of their bodies created an even more intimate cocoon, reinforcing their shared warmth. The contact of her leg against his body was both grounding and tender, a subtle way of expressing her trust and affection.

Aemond’s hold tightened slightly, his eye closing in contentment as he savored the sensation of her closeness. His hand continued its soothing caress, and he rested his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in a warm, gentle rhythm. “You are my only warmth” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/n’s eyes met his with a tender, knowing look. “And you are mine.” she replied softly, her lips brushing against his in a final, lingering kiss. They were each others warmth and comfort.

[ellecdc]

The Winner Takes It All

poly!Marauders x reader (gender not specified)

CW: slight light angst (between reader x other students), confusion on relationship status, fluff

You didn’t really know what you had done to win the affections of the infamous Marauder boys – namely Remus, Sirius, and James – but you weren’t going to question it too deeply; you quite enjoyed their company.

Everyone knew the three boys were together: Sirius and James were never known for their subtlety, and Remus was the reluctant (but quite pleased) victim of their near constant PDA. 

Somehow, you too had gotten swept up in their affections.

It wasn’t official – in the sense that you and the boys had never discussed what their flirting, pet names, cuddles, or forehead kisses meant in the grand scheme of things – but no one was ignorant to the chemistry between the four of you. The boys were so unbelievably sweet with you, and their attention felt like nothing short of worship.

James’ excessive excitement when you walked into a room left you feeling like you meant something; an overwhelming sense of belonging within his space. Sirius’ devilish flirting, compliments, and obvious ogling made you feel more beautiful than you ever thought possible. And Remus’ small gestures – whether carrying your books for you, ensuring you’ve eaten and drank enough water, and his special nicknames he seemed to save just for you - left you melted into a puddle of fondness. 

And that wasn’t always taken very well by others.

Namely, Emmeline Vance. 

The boys had been known to be quite…open…in their sexual encounters in the past and have, on occasion, included a fourth party in their dorm room activities. This quickly stopped when some parties felt this meant they were included in their dynamic.

Emmeline was one of them, and it appeared she wasn’t taking the news of them seemingly working to include an official fourth to their relationship very well. 

This is one of the reasons you hadn’t brought up exactly what you meant to them; you were not interested in simply being the boys’ next bedmate, and a part of you was afraid that bringing things up would expose the fact that this was indeed their hope.

The other part of you knew that the boys weren’t the kind to string someone along, and that they’d have to be playing an awfully long game if that was truly their angle. But the possibility squeezed at your heart nonetheless.

Emmeline had taken to making snooty comments to you when the boys weren’t around. Lily, Marlene, Peter, and Dorcas seemed particularly bothered by it, but you did your best to ignore her.

But there was a part of you that wanted to scream at her a little bit…you weren’t even technically in a relationship with them! You’d never slept with them, you’d never even properly kissed any of them, and you certainly hadn’t made any moves to make whatever this was ‘official’. 

Another part of you didn’t even want to entertain the situation. You had far more important things to concern yourself with: You were studying for your NEWTS, considering whether you wanted to head right into the workforce or explore further education, and where the hell you were going to live after graduation. 

Unfortunately, Emmeline wasn’t the only one to pick up on your new-found closeness with the Marauders.

“Well, well, well…look what the lions dragged in.” Mulciber sneered from behind you as you made your way up the path from Hogsmeade. You rolled your eyes and kept your head forward; you’d been given permission from the headmaster to run to the village to purchase more potions ingredients, but apparently, so had the Slytherins.

“What? Good enough for those Gryffindor’s but not us? Where’re you running too?” Avery continued with a malicious grin when you picked up your pace. 

Thankfully, you could see the Hogwarts grounds were up ahead, and Lily was there at the gates waiting for you.

“Sod off.” You threw over your shoulder, feeling slightly bolder in the presence of your friend. 

You smiled warmly at the redhead as she threw her arm over your shoulder, sparing the Slytherin gits behind you a withering glare as you carried on towards the castle.

“What’s their problem now, hm?” She asked you, still glaring at the boys.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, who knows. Not happy with anyone associated with the Marauders.” 

Lily snorted inelegantly. “I don’t even think they’ve bothered pranking the Slytherin’s lately.”

“Nope.” You agreed with a pop of the P. “Everyone’s got bigger problems right now.”

Lily laughed but it turned into a groan. “Yeah, speaking of: incoming.”

You followed her gaze to see Emmeline making her way towards the two of you.

“Hello Lily!” She said cheerily before her face turned stony as the considered you, “Y/N.”

You tried to refrain (somewhat unsuccessfully) from rolling your eyes as you said hello to the girl.

“Have you seen the boys around?” She asked feigning innocence, but you both knew exactly who she was on about.

Lily played dumb, though you knew that she knew very well who Emmeline was looking for. “Which boys, Vance? That covers just about half of the population at Hogwarts.” She asked coolly. 

“Remmy, Siri, and Jamie. Obviously. I’m going to ask them to Hogsmeade this weekend.” She shared with a sense of finality. You did roll your eyes at this, and Lily scoffed.

“Well, my first place to look for them would be with Y/N, and seeing as they’re not here, I couldn’t tell you.” Lily spat.

Emmeline narrowed her eyes and looked between the two of you before she levelled a glare at you.

“This isn’t over. I’ll win them back.” She said plainly, and something about her tone caused you to snap.

The Slytherin’s, Emmeline, the stress of not knowing – it was all too much, and you were done.

“You know what, Emmeline?” You said in a calm tone as you looked to the sky. “You can have them.”

Lily whipped her head to look at you bewilderedly at the same time Emmeline cocked her head at you.

“I beg your pardon?” She asked as you returned your eyes to her.

“If you think you can ‘win’ them, you can have them. I don’t want something that can so easily be taken from me, anyway. But you’re competing in a game that I’m not even playing, so either take them or leave me alone because I’ve got bigger fucking problems than your stupid school-girl crush.” You were out of breath by the time you finished; your face was hot, and you were sure it was likely the colour of Lily’s hair, but you willed yourself not to cry as you stormed toward the castle.

Damn being an angry crier.

You were just so tired – this wasn’t a game to you; these were your friends, perhaps more (you certainly hoped more), and it was also your feelings. But what you said was true – nothing that can be taken from you is worth keeping, not even them. 

Lily quickly caught up to you but knew better than to say anything now, giving you the chance to breathe and calm down. You both made your way to Gryffindor tower where you threw yourself haphazardly into one of the plush couches near the fireplace. 

“Fuck.” You groaned as you rubbed your hand down your face.

“You okay, hun?” Lily asked as she pet your head commiseratively. 

You groaned again as you let your hand fall from your head and hang dramatically off the side of the couch. “Yeah, just tired. Of everything.”

Lily hummed in sympathy. “Why don’t you relax up here? I can bring you something from the Great Hall for supper.”

You looked at your friend like she hung the moon. “You’d do that for me?”

She chuckled and pinched your cheek, “‘Course. Anything for you, gorgeous.” She winked, trying on her best Sirius Black voice to mimic what the boy has said to you many-a-times before. 

They really did treasure you, didn’t they?

You sort of regretted your outburst now – you knew the boys weren’t a prize in some juvenile contest; that’s what you’d been trying to point out – but you worried that’s not the way it sounded. What would they do once they heard? And you knew they would – hear about it, that is. Would their feelings be hurt? Would they understand? Would they feel embarrassed to be spoken about in such a manner?

You didn’t have much time to think about it after Lily left, because before you knew it, said boys were crawling through the portrait hole. 

“Angel!” James shouted at you as he found your form curled up against the arm of the couch. He made for you instantly, vaulting himself over the back of the couch sat opposite of you like some kind of living room gymnast and launching himself onto your couch, nearly right on top of you. 

“Hi Jamie.” You said shyly as his arms wrapped around your middle and he dug his face into the crook of your neck.

“Missed you.” He said, though the sound was muffled from the new home he seemed to have made in your being.

“Lily said we’d find ya here.” Sirius said as he sat on the coffee table in front of you. You grimaced in response.

“How was your trip to Hogsmeade?” Remus redirected at your obvious discomfort, taking a place beside Sirius.

“Oh, it was alright. I found what I needed.” You answered quietly, playing with the nailbeds of your fingers. Sirius quickly gave you one of his hands to play with instead. 

“We heard you gave Vance a verbal lashing.” He said as you fiddled with one of the many rings adorning his long fingers. You groaned and let your head fall back onto the couch. 

“Sirius.” Remus quietly (though lovingly) chided. “Do you wanna talk about it, dove?” 

And there he goes with the nicknames, and James’ cuddling and Sirius’ piercing gaze and what the hell were you even doing here? 

“No.” You answered. “I don’t know.” You amended quickly. 

“I hope she didn’t upset you too terribly.” James offered quietly as he moved his chin to rest on your shoulder so he could look at you. You were suddenly self-conscious of how the side of your head looked.

“No. I may have been a little out of line.” You acquiesced. Sirius scoffed dramatically.

“Please, you’ve never been unreasonable a day in your life. You should try it once in a while.”

You chuckled at the dark-haired boy. “If anyone can drive me to it, it’ll be you boys.” You tried to joke, but it came out somberly. 

“I’m sorry if being with us makes things a little tricky for you, with other students.” Remus apologized. 

You snorted. “I’m not sure why being friends with you guys should be such an issue for other people.”

“Friends?” James asked as he sat up a little straighter. You cocked your eyebrow as you turned to look at him.

“Well, I don’t know…We’ve never really discussed anything, I didn’t want to assume…” You trailed off as you started picking at your nailbeds again. This time, Sirius moved to his knees in front of you and took both of your hands in each of his.

“Assume. Assume it all; all of it, everything. We’re yours.” He said emphatically, punctuating each sentiment with a squeeze of your joined hands.

“If you’ll have us…” Remus corrected, and you felt something swell behind your eyes at the faint blush that appeared on his cheeks. 

James seemed just as moved by Remus’ bashfulness as he leaned forward to caress the boy’s cheek. “We know we’d love to have you.” James finished for him.

You sniffled and offered them a tight smile. “I’d like that.”

Sirius deflated instantly and let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank gods. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you said no.”

“Die, probably.” James said seriously, surprising a laugh out of you.

“We never wanted you to feel insecure in your place with us, dovey. We’re sorry we didn’t make it clearer how much you mean to us.” Remus continued.

“It’s not that. You make me feel very…” but you trailed off timidly.

“Very…” Sirius continued with a devilish grin. You tried to hide behind your hands but he held-fast. “Don’t get shy on us now, gorgeous. How do we make you feel?”

“Cherished.” You whispered, and you watched as the mirth left his face, leaving behind only fondness.

“Oh, thank merlin.” James breathed. “I thought I’d have to up my flirting; and I don’t know if you guys know this, but I already live at 100% love always.”

“We know.” You, Sirius, and Remus answered in unison. 

“Okay, Jamie. Scoot.” Sirius said as he stood. He hardly waited for James to make room before he’d picked you up and flipped you two, so he was now sitting in your spot, and you were in his lap. “My turn.” He muttered as he put his face in the crook of your neck like James had before. James didn’t seem to mind the intrusion much; his arm thrown across Sirius’ shoulders and fingers rubbing at the baby hairs on your neck.

“Y/N?” Remus asked, and your toes curled in anxiety at how serious he looked.

“Yes?”

“May I kiss you?” He asked, keeping his honey gaze locked on yours.

You felt a grin overtake your face as you nodded emphatically. His smile matched yours as he leaned forward resting his hand on your knee and pressed his lips gently to yours. You felt so incredibly complete – Sirius’ arms wrapped securely around you, James gently massaging your neck and shoulders, and Remus’ lips on yours.

Both you and Remus seemed reluctant to separate, but you did. He pressed one last kiss to your lips before he leaned back into his seat on the coffee table.

“Does this mean we get to do that all of the time now?!” James asked excitedly, causing the three of you to chuckle. You didn’t much mind the sound of that.

“There was no competition.” Sirius said quietly from his place in your neck. You turned your head which forced him from your neck as you looked at him inquisitively.

“There was never any competition. Between you and Emmeline.” He clarified, silver irises seeming to bore into your soul. “Between you and anyone.” 

You felt heat rush to your cheeks and ducked your head.

“And even if there was,” James continued, “you’d have won by a landslide.” 

Read the companion piece: The Loser Has To Fall

[rose-pearls]

Healing one cut at a time

Summary : Clarisse first goes to the med bay because she is forced by one of her siblings but the following times are just to see the daughter of Apollo again.

Requests are open!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989

“I told you; I am fine!”, you can hear someone grumble from behind you but you turn back to the twelve-year-old girl in front of you that had fallen and twisted her ankle.

“And I am telling you that you should just go to make sure it is fine,” as you turn around to find what the squabbling is all about, you find Clarisse and one of her brothers glaring at each other.

You couldn’t help but swallow hard at the sight of Clarisse, she had her hair down after capture the flag, and somehow still looked beautiful after running around for three hours.

Clearing your throat, you smiled awkwardly at the two Ares children who looked surprised at your sudden appearance.

“How can I help you?”, you ask softly, after a few seconds of awkward silence. Clarisse seems struck as she watches you with wide eyes, her brother has a smirk as he turns back to you.

“Right, this one was hurt during capture the flag and although it doesn’t look too bad, we just wanted to be sure.”, he says, and you can see Clarisse coming back to herself at her brother’s words.

“You wanted to be sure,” she says with a scowl on her lips, and even then, you can’t stop thinking that she looks stunning.

“Well let’s just make sure, we never know,” you tell them before nodding towards the small bed in the corner.

She doesn’t look so hurt, so you’re surprised to see a cut in her leg, probably done by a sword but she doesn’t look affected at all.

“The good news is that it doesn’t look too deep so I just need to disinfect it and it will be all new after that,” you tell the two as you look over the cut.

As you look up from the wound you see a wide-eyed Clarisse staring back at you, rosy cheeks and owlish brown eyes making your stomach flutter.

“Great!”, you hear suddenly as her brother claps in his hands making the both of you jump in surprise.

“I’ll go get the product.”, you quickly whisper, feeling slightly embarrassed at having been caught looking at the girl.

You can hear the both of them arguing, particularly Clarisse scowling her brother, while he seems far too happy to be in the med bay.

“Someone needs to push you,” you hear him say before you arrive and the both of them turn to you, their conversation suddenly over.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” you can’t help but say and the both of them shake their heads in disagreement.

“You didn’t!”, her brother says, and you nod slowly before taking the product and softly taking Clarisse leg in your hand.

“This might hurt a little,” you warn her even though you know that the girl will probably not show any type of weakness.

You whisper a few words under your breath as you pass the product on her cut and after a moment it starts healing itself.

“There you go, all new,” you say, and Clarisse seems a bit disappointed at the sight.

“Right, thank you I guess.”, she says after clearing her throat.

“Thank you for the help! We better get going,” he says before taking Clarisse with him, the girl looking back one last time with a timid smile, one that you would’ve never thought you would see Clarisse wearing. 

--

She was being stupid, she knew it, hell her whole cabin knew it too, but she just couldn’t stop going to see you at the med bay. She would use every excuse possible, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and you sweet smile.

“Clarisse, what happened this time?”, she hears you ask, your voice like music to her ears.

“My idiot of a brother didn’t watch where he was throwing his arrow,” she says, feeling slightly ashamed of the fact that she had been here every day until you smile at her warmly.

“Come sit down, I’ll look over it,” she does as is said and can’t help but feel a little excited at the prospect of you taking care of her. 

She didn’t want to feel weak, and the way she felt weak at your touch made her scared, but she couldn’t help coming back and having your whole attention solely focused on her. Her father would probably be telling her that she was weak but when you would talk with her softly, as to not disturb the sleeping children, she couldn’t help but forget all about him.

“You’re beautiful,” she realizes she has said the words before she can think not to say them. There is a loud silence, as you look at her slightly in shock, like a fish out of water.

You open your mouth to say something but before she let’s you have the opportunity to respond she fled the scene. Her face is hot with shame and embarrassment at her slip up, already making a plan at how to best escape the situation, and you specifically. That is until she feels a hand on her arm, making her turn around to face you.

You look slightly breathless from having ran after her, but you still look as beautiful as the first day she had seen you. She had fallen for you the moment she saw you; her siblings had quickly caught onto her crush and as much as they teased her, they would often tell her in the quiet of the night that she should go for it, go for the little sunshine that she could have. 

“You often leave a conversation without letting the other person answer?”, she hears you say, making her look at you in surprise.

“Guess I didn’t know how you would react,” she can’t help but say as she looks into your sad eyes.

“Well, maybe if you had stayed a bit longer you could have heard my response,” you say with a soft smile.

“What is that?”, the curiosity is killing her, but she also feels scared for the first time in a long time. 

“That I think that you are beautiful, probably a thousand more times than me,” she hears you say, and she suddenly feels breathless at your words but can’t help but disagree with a scoff.

“Please, you are the most beautiful woman, even Aphrodite herself would be jealous of your beauty,” the words are filled with passion, a passion that she usually only held for fighting and capture the flag. The surprise in your eyes make her feel suddenly shy, but as you get closer to her, she gets a whiff of your perfume making her relax slightly.

“That is probably not true but thank you,” you whisper, now closer to her than you have been before, but she still scoffs as she hears you disagree with her previous statement.

She gets ready to argue but before she can start, she feels your lips against hers, and for a moment she can’t think. Her stomach is bursting with butterflies and the smell of you is all around her.

Just as she feels you stopping the kiss, she wraps her hands around your cheeks, bringing you into a passionate kiss, hoping to make you understand everything she feels for you.

“You drive me crazy, sunshine,” she whispers, breathless, after the most dizzying kiss and she wants to kiss you again until she has no air in her lungs.

Your small giggle makes her smile and peck your lips softly.

“Who knew you could be so sweet La Rue,” she hears you whisper teasingly against her lips, and she can’t help but roll her eyes at your words.

“Only for you. Better keep this to yourself because it could ruin my reputation,” she says, a small warning in her voice but you just nod in agreement.

“We should go back to the med bay to look at that cut of yours,” she hears you say, a worried tone coating your words.

“Don’t worry beautiful, I’m fine. The only thing I need right know is you close to me and kisses,” she says as she brings you even closer by the waist, with a smirk as she sees you blushing.

“That can be arranged,” you whisper against her lips before she brings you back into another mind-blowing kiss.

[sceletaflores]

"Dependence Is Weakness, Darling."

pairing: older!patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: it wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. it was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. and as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

—or: it's been a little over twelve years since you've seen patrick zweig.

word count: 7.8k (hopefully this is long enough lol)

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex but in a loving way, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), semi-public sex (fucking in a car, you know i had to...), angst, swearing, cigarette smoking as a love language, slight mommy issues lmao, hints of mean!reader cause i still live for that shit, love confessions, rain scene cause i'm corny as hell, porn with SOOOO much plot, no use of y/n.

author's note: this might me the filthiest thing i've ever written lols. i actually DID get a couple asks for some more angsty patrick fics and ofc i love writing angst i'm just a girl i live for that shit. look at me doing what was asked of me and not just whatever i wanted! i'm a giver, what can i say. this fic was revived because of a few anon's who demanded it and i'm so glad they did. you guys got me to give this a second chance and i'm so proud of how it turned out. extra special shout out to @bii-aan-ckaa who fiercely advocated and waited very patiently for this! i'm so obsessed with you and your beautiful kind words. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

Fifteen minutes. 

That’s how long you can stomach sitting in the sticky booth of the bar watching Patrick Zweig flirt with a woman you don't recognize across the dimly lit room. Fifteen measly minutes until you were giving your friends some lame excuse of needing fresh air and leaving the table to escape out into the alley.

It’s been a little over twelve years since you’ve seen Patrick. A little over twelve years since you turned your back on him with tears spilling down your cheeks and your favorite racket a mangled, smashed mess gripped tightly in your shaking hand as you walked out of his life forever. 

Or at least what you thought was forever, you guess you were wrong.

To put it lightly, your relationship with Patrick was…complicated. You met him the summer before you started at Stanford. He was tall with green eyes and curly hair and he was kind of an asshole but he made you laugh, so you let him fuck you anyway. At the time, you thought that was it. One really good fuck with a really hot guy you’d never see again.

You thought you were hallucinating when you saw him on the campus courts two months later, when he sauntered up to you with an unmistakable “I know what you look like naked” smirk on his face. He was just as tall and had the same green eyes and the same curly hair and was an even bigger asshole than he was before. You still let him fuck you anyway.

You never thought you’d get sucked into the storm that was whatever the fuck was going on between Art, Patrick and Tashi. Never thought that it would completely ruin your self esteem, your tennis, your everything.

You weren’t particularly close to Art or Tashi in college. Sure, you were all in the same circle. That didn’t make you best friends. Art was nice enough, but he never went out of his way to talk to you. You and Tashi were on the same team but that didn’t mean anything. You respected the hell out of her and her game, and you could tell she felt the same. Even with that respect, there was still a tiny part of you that resented her. 

She was number one, the pride and joy of Stanford, had a constant slew of brands and scouts up to her ears. It seemed like no matter how hard you worked that she would always be number one. It felt like you were always just inches behind her.

Clawing and scratching your way through the ranks since you were twelve to be second best was never the plan. Your mother made sure to remind you of that every chance she got.

Then slowly, she started beating you at more than just tennis. Patrick wanted her, it was more than obvious. At first you didn’t care, he wasn't your boyfriend. He was just a guy you fucked, he could do whatever he wanted. You were friends. There wasn’t a problem.

When you realized you knew more about Patrick than just how he worked dick, then there was a problem. 

At first, all the things you knew about him were boiled down to the vulgar little tidbits you’d notice when he fucked you. You know that he has a birthmark on his lower back. You know when he’d be close because he’d always bite your shoulder before he came. You know his favorite position was really missionary even though he told everyone it was doggy.

Knowing all that was fine.

You also know that he’s allergic to kiwi. You know that he only holds his cigarettes with his thumb and his pointer finger. You’d always know when he was nervous because he’d start tapping his fingers on his thigh. You know that when he’d listen to music he loved, that his right hand would drum along to the beat just a little bit faster than his left would.

You knew all those things because you were falling in love with him, and Patrick Zweig is not someone you fall in love with. Especially not with Tashi Duncan in the picture.

You tried your best to push it down, to pretend you weren’t hurt every time Patrick chose Tashi over you. When he’d miss your games because he was with Tashi, when he’d blow you off to go meet Tashi, when he started to stop returning your calls or replying to your texts. All things you never cared about before started slowly eating at you. You felt awful most days, holed up in your room wallowing in self-pity. Your GPA was steadily dropping as the semester went on. Even your tennis started slipping, and you lost your winning streak to a fucking scrub. When you finally cracked and broke down to your mother over the phone one night she just scoffed.

“Well what did you think would happen when you started to depend on that boy? Dependence is weakness, darling.”

Dependence is weakness. You blocked Patrick’s number that same night.

It all came to a head when he blew up at you after Tashi’s injury. Everyone was pretty shaken up about it. You’d never forget the way it buckled, the way the sharp snap rang through the court, the way she fell to the ground screaming. You’d never seen her cry before. 

Patrick found you later that night, all alone on the practice courts trying to burn the day out of your mind by serving balls till you collapsed. It was the first time he talked to you in weeks. He was pissed. Screaming at you, calling you every nasty thing he could think of, getting up in your face. It was a fucking mess. You both said some things that should have never been said, but it ended when Patrick accused you of somehow being the cause of all of it.

“You hate Tashi, fucking hate her. You wanted something like this to happen. I bet you’re just over the fucking moon that she’s finally out and you can take her place. You can finally be number one seed and you're fucking ecstatic, aren't you? You’re so fucking pathetic, so desperate for validation. Maybe if mommy paid attention to you for once, you wouldn’t be so fucking needy. You're just a sad, delusional fucking runner-up, grasping at whatever shreds of importance you think you still have.”

You stood there, stunned by his outburst, each word hitting you like a physical blow. It was insane, nothing but Patrick blowing things way out of proportion in the midst of his anger.

You wanted to scream, to deny it vehemently, but the hurt and frustration choked off your words. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of anger and heartbreak swirling in you. Vision blurring out everything but Patrick's face twisted up with rage as he glared at you, his words lingering in the air like poison. 

You told him about your mother because you thought you could trust him. You thought he was the only person that really understood you, his dad was a piece of shit too. Him using something so delicate as material to hit you where it hurts was the last straw.

You blew up, all the things you’d been keeping bottled up for months finally boiled over in you swinging your racket down on the green concrete over and over until there was nothing left of it to break. You didn’t even look at Patrick as you walked away. You never saw him again.

You’d love to say it was also the last time you thought about him, but that would be a lie. As much as he hurt you, and as much as you hated him for it, your mind refused to let you forget him.

You still smoke Camel Blues because that was your guys’ brand, even when you should have quit years ago anyway. You still buy the same color lighter, pink. You tell yourself it’s nothing more than an easy choice, that it’s a good color. It’s not at all because you can still hear Patrick’s teasing voice in the back of your head bitching, “I can’t believe you make me use a pink lighter.” when he always forgot his and had to borrow yours. 

It’s not based on a compulsive need to be reminded of him every single time you use it. It’s just convenient, okay.

You know deep down that they were the only remnants of a past that you still couldn’t fully let go of. As much as you tried to bury those memories, they lingered, melded into the corners of your mind like stubborn stains. 

It wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. It was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. Patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. And as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

Even twelve years later you’re still trying to convince yourself that dependence is weakness, that you were better off without him. But sometimes, in the quiet moments like this when the smoke curls from your cigarette and the pink lighter flickers in your hand, you wonder if he ever thinks of you, if he regrets how things ended between the two of you.

Maybe it's not that you can't escape Patrick's grip on you after all these years, it's that you just won't.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don't hear the heavy door to the bar swinging open, or the sound of gravel crunching underneath approaching footsteps.

“Holy shit,” a deep voice rings out from your right, “someone pinch me.”

Your whole body tenses, your cigarette freezing a few inches away from your lips. Something like fight or flight starts to quietly buzz beneath your skin. You’d recognize that voice anywhere, even despite the gruffer, more grown up tone that wasn’t there the last time you heard it.

Your heart’s already kicking into overdrive when you finally start to hesitantly turn your head, time almost slowing down as your eyes sweep over the alley. You kind of don’t want to believe that your luck is this shitty. That maybe it was all in your imagination, that you were thinking about him so much you were starting to hear things that weren’t really there, that he was still back in the bar feeling up that blonde girl. But it can never be that easy, and sure enough, there he is.

Patrick Zweig is standing a few feet away from you with both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and a wide, achingly familiar grin lighting up his face.

You’re quiet for a few long moments, completely shocked into silence. Your mind races with a million different things you want to say but can’t find the voice to. You should be causing a scene. You should be losing it, screaming, crying, throwing things, slapping him hard across his unfairly handsome face. But you don’t, too surprised to even move. 

Patrick speaks again, taking several steps towards you. “It is really you, right?” he asks, eyes wide and mouth pulling into an easy, lopsided grin. To anyone else, the laid back, carefree tone he was going for would sound genuine. You can barely pick up on the stunned, almost breathless edge lacing his words, like he also can’t believe you’re standing right in front of him.

He steps into the light shining from a dingy lamp above the door, it basks around him in a yellow orange glow.

Same eyes, same ears, same Patrick.

For years you’ve thought about this exact moment, what you’d say if you ever saw him. You lose all of that practice the closer he gets. He’s less than a foot away from you now, an expectant look on his face. He’s waiting for you to say something. 

You feel like running, like stubbing your cigarette on the pavement and making a break for the door. You already ran from him once, but old habits die hard. 

You don’t run, you refuse to take the easy way out. You’re a grown woman, you’re stronger than you were in college, you’re going to the goddamn Olympics. It’s only Patrick for Christ’s sake.

“What are you doing here?” It sounds harsher than you meant, but that’s probably for the best. He doesn’t deserve kindness from you. 

“Tennis.” Is all he says, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Camel blues. “What are you doing here?” He parrots back, smacking the bottom of the carton, plucking the one that shakes out between his long fingers. “I’d think that Miss. Team USA would be too busy for bar crawls.”

You bristle, eyes narrowing skeptically. You can’t tell if he’s making fun of you or not. “It’s not a bar crawl,” you shoot back childishly, feeling defensive under his heavy gaze. “We’re celebrating.”

Patrick just nods, letting out a small hum in lieu of replying. He's close enough now that you can see gray strands streaked through his hair. He looks older, a few barely there wrinkles creasing his skin as he pops his cigarette between his lips. “Got a light?” he asks around the filter, holding his hand out expectantly before you even answer.

It’s still just as annoying. You roll your eyes, sighing dramatically as you fish your lighter out of your skirts pocket. You place it in the open palm of his hand, ignoring the fireworks that go off at the base of your spine when his fingers catch on your wrist as you pull away.

He mumbles out a half-assed thanks, cupping his hand around the flame to shield it from the wind. If he notices the color, he doesn’t say anything. It feels wrong that he doesn’t tease you about it, staying silent as he tosses it back to you when his cigarette finally lights. You ignore the hurt blooming in your chest as you pocket it.

Patrick takes a deep inhale, the tip of his cigarette burns bright red. The way his lips wrap around the filter has heat spreading through you. “Shocked you’re still smoking,” he waves his free hand at you vaguely, smoke flowing from his lips as he speaks. “It’s not super admirable.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s really how you want to start this?

“Start what?” he asks coyly, leaning his shoulder too close to you against the brick. He’s playing dumb, the smirk on his face gives him away. 

You say nothing, not trusting yourself to speak. He has a beard now, sort of patchy and fairly new looking. You wrinkle your nose up at it. 

It doesn’t surprise you that he’s acting like this. All calm and collected like he’s catching up with an old friend, like he didn’t say all those horrible things to you. As if every single word he said that night isn’t still engraved in your mind and carried with you through your whole career. 

Patrick’s quiet for a bit, taking another slow drag. “Have you seen either of them?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s treading the water of your boundaries by bringing this up. “Or am I your first?” He lets the innuendo hang in the air, trying to joke his way through something neither of you really want to talk about.

You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the part of the street you can see through the alleys opening.

You don’t need to ask who “them” is.

You just shake your head no, not wanting to have to say anything out loud and make this into a whole thing. The smoke from your cigarette swirls through your lungs, warm and familiar. 

You’ve seen them both at multiple tennis events. Things like matches, and galas, and charity auctions. Hell, they watched from the stands when you won Wimbledon for the first time. You just make sure and avoid them like the plague, always running the other direction the second you see a short bob and cropped blonde hair.

You’ve been in the same room with them countless times over the years but you might as well have been in separate worlds. The only “contact” you’ve had with them since you all graduated was weirdly ominous.

Art followed you on Instagram after you got your third career slam, but he doesn’t like any of your posts. You’re one of the mere twenty accounts in his following. You never followed him back. 

Then, when your career first started taking off, the press somehow learned about your past with Tashi. They started using it to their advantage when picking headlines for any pieces written about you. “The only woman in the world to beat Tashi Duncan!” It pissed you off to no end. It was stupid, a way to get clicks on their sad little gossip sites. And it wasn’t even fucking true.

They finally stopped when you threatened to sue their asses. Apparently, Tashi noticed.

She sent you flowers. You threw them out.

Patrick nods back, taking his own slow drag. The sound of traffic hums in the background, the music from the bar bleeding through the wall mutely. 

“Congrats on that,” he says casually, looking you up and down slowly. You fight not to squirm under his gaze. “On making the team. That’s some serious shit. I always knew it’d be you, out of all of us.”

It’s a blatant lie. You were always four out of four in college, the one person in the group with the least potential for stardom. If it wasn’t for Tashi’s injury, she’d definitely be in your place — on top of the world.

He’s trying to pacify you, to butter you up. All it does is grate on your nerves and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

“Did you just come out here to interrogate me? To mess with me?” you ask sharply, frustration starting to get the better of you. “Do you want a fucking autograph or something?”

Patrick laughs, throwing his head back. “Nope, I wanted to catch up. It's been a while.” he shrugs, eyes darkening ever so slightly. “I just know how much you like talking about yourself, that’s all.”

You pause, picking up on the clear implication of his words. “Excuse me?” you question, turning towards him.

“Just saying,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “When we were younger everyone always thought I was this arrogant, cocky, self obsessed prick…” he trails off, an infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. It does nothing to soothe you, only adding fuel to the fire of your anger. “And they were all right, I was. But, that’s also exactly what you are right now.” he finishes, tapping the ash off his cigarette.

You feel it, all the emotions swirling inside you of at seeing Patrick again threatening to burst. Anger and misery waging a war in your stomach. The wind is starting to pick up around you, making goosebumps break out over your skin. The fabric of your skirt swishes around your thighs. You feel clammy, but it has nothing to do with the temperature drop. 

“Was?” you ask, condescending and mean, crossing your arms across your chest defensively. “You really don’t think you’re still all of those things?”

Patrick chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. He goes to say something, but you beat him to it. “I’ve changed, Patrick.” you say sternly, brows furrowing in displeasure. Your tone is hard, frustration seeping into your words. Considering the last time the two of you spoke, this was almost going well. It’s just like Patrick to ruin something before he needs to.

You know distantly that you could deescalate the situation, but maybe you’re more alike than you thought. Maybe you’re just too greedy to keep the peace. “So fucking sorry that I’m not the same person I was in college, but I actually chose to grow up.”

Patrick snorts, exhaling a plume of smoke through his nose. “Yeah, clearly.” he mutters under his breath, it’s condescending and sarcastic. It pisses you off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask sharply, cigarette now forgotten and steadily burning away at your side. 

Patrick shrugs, like it’s obvious. “You’re still so lost. I sure as shit don’t have a red, white, and blue track suit hanging in my closet, but at least I know who I am.” He doesn't sound angry, only sure of himself, like he may have been thinking about this for a while. His face is passive, body relaxed as he leans against the hard brick.

Your jaw clenches, anger running hot through your veins. He doesn’t know anything about you, hasn’t for over ten years. He doesn’t have the right to try and talk down to you, not after all the hard work you put in to get to where you are.

“My wrist alone is worth ten million. What are you worth now, Patrick?” You’ll be embarrassed about bringing up status later, you always try to stay as humble as possible, but you’re too mad to care. You just need to hurt him, to hurt him like he hurt you. You’d heard from a friend of a friend that Patrick’s parents cut him off a while ago, that he’s been slumming it ever since. “I know exactly who I am, I’m a fucking Olympian.”

The venom in your tone is sharp, each word from your lips like a knife stabbing through the tense air trying to draw blood. “You’re a fucking nobody, Patrick. You’re irrelevant. Washed up. Buried. Forgotten.” You pause when your voice starts to shake, taking a deep inhale of smoke to try and calm yourself. Your hand is shaking too, ash falls from the burnt out tip down to the gravel. Patrick just watches you, his expression doesn’t change. Smoke billows from between your lips, blowing away with the wind. “We’re not on the same level, not anymore.” 

Patrick’s unfazed, staring back at you with his cigarette dangling from his lips. He takes it between his fingers, letting his arm drop to hang at his side. “I’ve been thinking about you.” he says casually, head lolling to the side lazily. He looks at you through his lashes, eyes sweeping over your face slowly. “I was just thinking about you, and now you’re here. Right fucking in front of me.” he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “You look…” he trails off, green eyes taking in every inch of you. “You look amazing.”

Your pulse flutters wildly, you feel so light headed, like you could pass out any second. “I’ve missed you, missed you everyday since that night.” His expression is that same half cocked grin from before, all smooth bravado and easy smiles as if he’s not staring at you like you’re the very blood coursing through his veins. All the air drains from your lungs, mind racing what feels like a thousand miles per second. 

He sounds like he means it. He looks like he means it. He can’t possibly mean it.

A loud chant ringing through your skull is the only coherent thing screaming through all the mess. Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fucking fall for it–

“Well I don’t miss you.” A lie. “You were nothing to me, Patrick.” Another lie. “You were just easy dick.” Your stomach twists painfully, like your body is physically trying to stop you from lying to yourself any further.

His face stays neutral, it frustrates you to no end that you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Patrick had a terrible poker face in college, you could read him like a book with a single glance. It was one of your favorite things about him, how expressive his face always was.

Now he’s just staring down the bridge of his nose at you passively, the picture of indifference. It’s another reminder of how long it’s been, that he’s lived a whole life without you in all that time. He takes a long drag off his cigarette, never breaking eye contact with you as he does.

His lips are slick and pink, just how you remember them. The beard isn’t so bad, it makes him look more rugged, more like a man. It’s the most drastic change in his appearance, far different from the smooth skinned pretty boy he was before.

He exhales, a long stream of smoke blowing past your ear. “What are you still doing here then?” he muses with a small shrug. He leans in even closer, slowly, like you were a cornered animal he didn’t want to spook. You can smell him, something woodsy with a hint of musk. You can see the clusters of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose, almost completely faded. “If I’m nothing,” he clarifies, simple, easy. “Why are you here?”

It’s a loaded question, one he obviously knows the answer to. It’s a dick move, forcing you to confront what you’re really feeling. Your eyes start to sting, complicated emotions welling up in your throat. “Fuck you Patrick.” you whisper weakly, all the bite in your tone getting lost in your dejection. Your lip wobbles warningly, you try your best to stifle it. You refuse to cry in front of him.

Patrick’s face does something funny, turning his eyes to the sidewalk. “I need someone like that again. Someone that isn’t afraid to fucking check me, that wants me to do better and not because they just see a check or a legacy or whatever the fuck else my parents expected from me. Someone that wants me to do better because they actually believe in me.”

The honesty in his voice takes you by surprise. He gets more worked up the longer he talks, chest rising and falling a lot faster than before. Rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his hardened exterior.  “I fucked up that night, I know. Now my life’s a fucking mess, and I need someone to help make it make sense again.“ 

You scoff thickly, shaking your head in disbelief as you fight back tears. “And I’m that person?” you ask skeptically, brow raised in question.

“You always were,” he replies easily, his face forming into a sad smile. He almost sounds like his old self. Your brain flashes the image of Patrick leaning outside the door of your science lecture, waiting to walk you back to your dorm. He’s smiling wide enough to show teeth, looking down at you with brilliant green eyes, just like he is right now.

Suddenly, he wasn’t the boy that broke your heart on a tennis court twelve years ago. 

He was the boy that held your hair back when you threw up after drinking too much at a frat party and still stayed the night even though you didn’t hook up, his chest pressed against your back like a security blanket the whole night. He was the boy that let you make friendship bracelets on the handle of his favorite racket, and secretly kept the one you made for him braided around the neck for weeks until you finally noticed the fraying blue strings still in place when he forgot his tennis bag at your dorm room one night.

Suddenly he wasn’t anything but the boy you fell in love with when you were eighteen years old.

You swallow hard, heart pounding against your ribcage. Your cigarette falls from the slack grip of your fingers, plummeting to your feet where it burns out on the pavement. 

It’s like you lose control of yourself, like all your morals get shot out of a cannon into the sun. You’re lunging forward before you know what you’re doing, fisting the fabric of Patrick’s shirt and pulling him down to meet you halfway. Your first kiss with Patrick in twelve years.

It’s a mess of teeth clashing together roughly, with way too much tongue and spit to be classified as romantic. It’s desperate. It’s angry. It’s fucking filthy and it’s exactly what you need.

Your tongue forces its way between Patrick’s lips when he gasps in shock, mapping out the familiar territory of his mouth like muscle memory. His big hands fly up to hold onto your hips as he eagerly returns your kiss, pressing you up against the brick and sucking your tongue lewdly. He tastes like smoke and bottom shelf whiskey. You moan into his mouth, wetness starting to seep through the thin material of your panties.

You stay like that for a while, just kissing until Patrick slides the hard line of his cock against your hip strategically. You moan at the size of it pressing onto you through his jeans, breaking the kiss to inhale a couple lungfuls of air. “You’re not fucking me in an alley.” You say bluntly as he trails wet kisses down the side of your throat.

He laughs, nipping at your collarbone teasingly. “My car’s a block away,” he offers between kisses.

You think about it for a second. Deciding on whether or not you’re going to let Patrick fuck you in the backseat of his car like you’re two horny teenagers and not full grown adults.

“Lead the way.” Is all you say, finally letting yourself smile when Patrick starts to drag you away from the bar. 

You shoot your friends a quick text letting them know you decided to head home early, already in the uber you ordered when you’re actually letting Patrick drag you across a blessedly empty parking lot to an old SUV parked in the middle. A completely one-eighty from the Porsche he used to drive.

He takes a second to press you against the door, capturing your lips with his again. It’s a slower kiss, sweeter than the one you shared outside the bar. You feel butterflies erupt in your stomach when he cups your face, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He fumbles blindly for the car door with his other hand, pulling it open and pushing you into the back. He follows closely, climbing in and shutting the door behind him.

Patrick’s back on you in less than a second, yanking at the buttons of your shirt impatiently, fingers too big to work them through the holes as fast as he wants to. He lets out a frustrated growl, grabbing both sides and pulling hard. The buttons all go flying in different directions, landing in different spots around you.

“That was three hundred dollars,” you mumble against his lips, not wanting to stop kissing him for even a second. He looms over you, broad and all encompassing. He sits up to yank his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside and popping open the button of his jeans.

“You can buy another one,” he says simply, shucking his jeans and boxers off all in one go. His dick is long and lovely, tip red and drooling pre-cum that drips all the way down to his balls. Your mouth waters, desperate to taste it, to feel the weight of it on your tongue and down your throat. You push it to the back of your mind. There’s no time for that, both of you too keyed up to do anything other than fuck.

Patrick leans down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. He turns his attention to your pulling skirt down, panties going with it and getting tossed onto the floorboard carelessly. His eyes zero in on your bare pussy, wet and on display. The cool air shocks your system, making you want to press your thighs together but Patrick’s hands keep you spread open.

“Fuck,” he whispers quietly, moving to roll the knuckle of his right index finger over your slick entrance, just barely rocking it into you. You gasp, your whole body trembling with need. “Just like I remember.” He mutters to himself, pushing in the smallest bit deeper. 

Your leg kicks out, patience starting to wear thin. “C’mon, Pat.” you mewl sweetly, bucking your hips up in a clear invitation. “Fuck me.”

Patrick shifts up onto his knees, silently shuffling closer to your spread thighs. His cock juts out from his body, so thick and heavy that it doesn’t point straight up, instead hangs angry and red between his legs. His big hands slide halfway up your thighs, you shiver at the way they skirt across your skin lightly. He presses you backwards by them, leaning over you with your legs slung across his shoulders.

His cock drags across your inner thigh, trailing a sloppy line of pre-come as it does. You nearly wail, wrapping your arms around Patrick’s broad shoulders as you beg for him to give you what you want.

“God Patrick! Put it in. Please, put it in. Let me have it, please, fuck–,” you beg frantically, arms tightening around his shoulders like you’re trying to drag him impossibly closer to you. He goes willingly, burying his nose in the soft skin of your neck. He presses a small kiss directly over your pulse.

“I’m gonna give you this cock, baby.” he whispers lowly, hot lips brushing against your skin with every word. He slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, stopping to rub it over your swollen clit a few times. “Gonna get all up inside you and fuck you exactly how you like.” He slides the length down, letting his tip catch on your empty, clenching hole.

You’re so damn worked up, writhing and pushing back and begging Patrick to just fuck you already, that you can’t take anymore teasing. Your hole contracts around the tip of his dick like it’s trying to suck him in. He sinks in deeper, slowly feeding every thick inch into your aching cunt.

“God,” Your name falls from his lips in a shuddery breath that fans over your fluttering pulse. “You still smell the same.” It’s the same stunned, breathless tone from when he first saw you. He presses his face cheek to cheek with yours, the rough texture of his beard scraping against your skin. 

Patrick moves his hips against you slowly, deep strokes that drag every thick inch of him against the walls of your cunt. The tip of his cock stabbing that sweet spot inside you that makes stars glow bright on the ceiling of his car each time you blink. The angle has his balls pressing against your cunt as he fucks into you, the excessive pre-come leaking from his tip mixing with the sticky wetness of your juices leaves an obscene ring of creamy white around the spread hole of your cunt. It sticks wetly to the base of Patrick’s cock with each thrust, shining back at you on his skin when he pulls out.

The slow thrusts feel amazing, but you know it’s not enough. You need him to pound into you, to bully his big cock into your cunt like he’s getting back at you for shutting him out. You need him to fuck you. 

“Harder, Pat…” you whine breathlessly, clawing desperately at the polyester seats.

He groans loudly, hips immediately speeding up, getting rougher, meaner. He leans up to get more power behind his thrusts, breaking your tight hold on his shoulders. “This is where you belong,” he grits out, sweat dripping from his forehead to fall onto your heaving chest. The sharp smack smack smack of his hips bruising your ass gets louder, the lewd noise filling the car. “Where you should have been this whole fucking time, spread open on my cock.”

The only thing you can even get out anymore are pleading whines and loud moans of Patrick’s name as he pounds into you like he’s trying to kill you. The harsh snap of his hips inching you further up the backseat until your head’s knocking against the doors handle on each mean thrust. Your feet bounce by his ears, body almost completely folded in half so all you can do is lie there and take it.

The car rocks steadily, anyone who spares a glance at the SUV will know what’s going on inside. 

Patrick sneaks a hand between your legs, fingers sliding over your swollen clit. You scream, throwing your head back in pleasure as the calloused tips over his fingers work you over. “Fuck yeah,” Patrick mutters, turning his head to lick and bite at your ankle. “You’re so fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful. I missed you so much, missed this pussy.” His voice is pinched, hips fucking into you impossible faster.

The wet squelching noise of your cunt is filthy, splattering against Patrick’s heavy balls with each thrust. “I know she missed me too, didn’t she baby?” he taunts, eyes wild and blown out. “Taking my cock so well, squeezing me so fucking good.”

“Close,” you gasp out. Patrick pitches forward, licking into your parted lips as he rubs tight circles over your clit faster. He kisses you sloppily, smearing spit all over your lips and chin. His sweat drips onto your face and mixes with your own, it should be gross, but it makes you even wetter. The primal part of your brain overjoyed to be claimed by him. He lifts his fingers up the tiniest bit, smacking them over your clit with the smallest amount of force.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, back arching off the seat wildly as you gush around his cock. You claw at his back desperately, nails raking down his skin hard enough to leave angry red welts in their wake.

“Shit– that’s good, milk it out of me baby, work for this fucking load.” he groans, hips not slowing down as he chases his own release. His breath puffs over your skin, the rhythm of his hips starting to falter the closer he gets. You whine, trying your best focus on clenching your cunt over his cock in your fucked out state. “That’s it, baby– God – you’re gonna make me come, squeezing me so tight I can barely fucking move…” he growls, teeth sinking into your neck hard.

You hiss sharply, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure starts to become too much. He licks over the bite mark, like he’s apologizing. “Gonna fucking come inside you, fill you up so good, fuck–”

His rambling dissolves into a loud groan, hips giving one last thrust as he buries himself as deep in your cunt as he can. You feel rope after rope of warm come flood your insides, painting your walls with it. It feels like hours, him unloading into you with cut off moans and grunts. 

You're still desperately trying to catch your breath when he finally starts to pull out of you as gently as he can. The red tip of his cock popping free lets the river of his come leak out from your abused hole, spilling out of you to drip onto the car’s seat.

Patrick curses at the sight, scooping the white, creamy mess onto his fingers so he can fuck it back into you. You hiss at the over stimulation, thighs squeezing together around his hand. Your chest is still heaving, breathing erratic as you slowly come down from your orgasm. Patrick tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, smiling warmly as he takes you into his arms and shifts around until he’s sitting up against the door with you curled into his chest.

The windows are steamy, melting all the streetlights outside into a swamp of warm colors on the glass. They shine through the car like sunlight piercing through a stained glass window. You feel light and hazy, like you’re in a dream. Patrick’s body grounds you, firm and familiar against your back. It’s quiet for a long time, only the sound of soft breathing fills the car. You're scratching your nails through the hair on Patrick’s chest when he finally breaks the silence.

“There’s…” he says into your hair, trailing off near the end. He’s idly tracing shapes on your lower back. A circle, a square, a circle, a diamond, a square, a heart. “There’s this challenger in New Rochelle in a couple weeks, I’m entering it. You should come.” 

Your heart drops, the delicate cloud encompassing you and Patrick forcefully ripped away in less than a second. You’ve already heard of this challenger, seen all the publicity it’s been getting since Art’s name came up in the conversation surrounding it. The ‘Phil’s Tire Town Challenger’ is all anyone can talk about. 

If Art’s there, she will be too. Sitting in the stands in a classy Ralph Lauren two piece, watching her husband and Patrick on the court, looming over the two of them for the first time in years. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing her. You can’t stomach the thought of Patrick seeing her, terrified that the second she spares him a glance you’ll be right back where you were in college, an afterthought left in the dust for something better.

Your stomach lurches violently, you feel nauseous. The heat of Patrick’s backseat becomes almost unbearable, making it harder to breathe. You rip yourself away from him, tearing through the backseat to find your clothes. 

Patrick startles, sitting up with a concerned look on his face. “Jesus, what's wrong?” You can feel the warmth of his hands hovering over your back, not sure if he should touch. “What did I do?”

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Your throat feels tight, chest constricted and heavy as you try to take in lungfuls of air. You tug on your skirt and panties haphazardly, grabbing the first shirt you find strewn across the car's floor and yanking it on. You know it’s not yours but you don’t care, too busy trying to shove your shoes back onto your feet and push open the door all at once.

Patrick questions you the entire time, voice confused and insistent as you tumble out into the parking lot. The cool air feels like a life jacket, the smell of rain fills your nose as you try to steady your erratic breathing. You’re still trying to tug your right shoe on as you start to speed walk away from his car.

You can hear the sound of feet slapping behind you on the pavement as you walk. A strong hand wraps around your bicep, whipping you around. Patrick only has his pants on, shirtless and barefoot in his haste to catch up with you.

“What the fuck are you doing? What’s wrong?” He sounds genuinely concerned, his eyes searching your face closely. It makes tears burn hot at your waterline, blurring your vision and falling to trickle down your cheeks when you try to blink them away.

“This was a mistake, Patrick.” your voice is thick with emotion, you try to wrench your arm out of his grip. He doesn’t let go, not squeezing tight enough to hurt but to try and keep you in place. You need to leave, to get as far away from Patrick as you can before you’re in too deep. “Please, let go.” Your voice is small, shaky and weak and so unlike you. The panic from the car is still wrapped around you, growing tighter every second you spend with him.

Patrick shakes his head wildly, raindrops slowly start to fall onto his bare shoulders. “No, fuck no! We can talk about this. We just need to talk–”

“Patrick stop!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, loud and desperate as you double your efforts to free your arm. “Please just let me go!”

You don’t know if it’s the way you said it or the look on your face, maybe it’s a bit of both, but something makes Patrick let you go. Dropping your arm from his grip and letting his own hang limply at his side.

Rain starts to come down all around you, large drops hitting your skin and soaking the cotton of your shirt. You let yourself meet his eyes, they're sad in a way you’ve never seen before. The green turned dull and lifeless. It looks wrong on him.

When you can’t stand the hurt look on his face any longer, you leave. Walking away deeper into the rain, small puddles splashing up around your shoes with every step. You hope Patrick doesn’t follow you, that he lets you go. You’re doing him a favor by making the choice for him, it’s easier this way.

“You know, I think I really loved you.” He calls from behind you as the rain really starts to pick up. His voice almost gets swallowed by the thunder, you wish it would have. 

Against your better judgment, you look back. Patrick hasn't moved, still standing in the middle of the parking lot. The rain is making his hair stick to his forehead, starting to seep into the denim of his jeans to darken the gray. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, voice tiny and pathetic. Patrick probably couldn’t even hear you over the wind whipping through the air. He stares back at you, there's too much distance for you to see the look on his face. You turn on your heels and keep walking.

It’s nostalgia in its sickest form, the dark familiarity of the situation washing over you with the rain as you walk away from Patrick again. Ignoring every call of your name and desperate pleas for you to come back is new, you can’t tell if it hurts more or less than the silence of last time.

You wrap your arms around yourself, tears mixing with the trails of rain running down your cheeks. It’ll make it easier to convince yourself later on that you weren’t really crying, that it was just the rain. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and this will all be behind you. Patrick will be fine, he doesn’t really love you. In a few weeks he’ll go to the challenger and forget all about you. 

You hear your mothers voice ring out in the back of your head as you walk.

"It's for the best, my love. Dependence is weakness."

You hope to God that she's right.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[tender-rosiey]

aww nanami’s daughter who’s very possessive of her mama is so cute she definitely got it from her dad need more of her

sneaky lovey — nanami kento x f!reader

your daughter was kind of mischievous. you don’t know where did she get it from, but you have a feeling that it’s from her uncle gojo whom she has spent a lot of her weekends with.

it’s cute really, especially when she seems to be driving her dad crazy with her little pranks. after all of that, he still loves her, of course, but he hopes that she would understand that his stress levels don’t need to be any higher.

he also hopes that she learns how to share, especially share your attention and affection.

nanami is a mature man, so he can’t help but let her hog you all to herself whenever she goes, “daddy! I want mommy! that’s enough time for you.”

and who is he to deny her your love?

but in the end, he still is a man who is so very in love you and naturally craves your attention as well.

that leads to you guys to trying to sneak a few kisses here and there along with a bunch of hugs like a couple of teenagers in love.

you find it funny.

the way that your husband awaits any moment that your daughter isn’t there to press a kiss to your lips and have his arms around you.

he looks like a baby that had his toy taken away for way too long and it is so cute. you don’t mind voicing that out and you laugh softly when he sighs about how he just wants time with you.

on the other hand, he doesn’t find it funny.

one moment, he is kissing you and the other you’re being dragged by your daughter to draw with her.

she can not for the life of her let her dad get a second with his beautiful wife.

another example is when one day, you had sent her to her uncle gojo cause she had missed him.

nanami was low-key over the moon and refused to leave your side, leaving kisses on your hand, cheek, and forehead whenever given the chance.

“kento, you’re pretty affectionate today.”

“mm, just missed you, love.”

it was utter bliss, especially when you guys got to cuddling and reading a book together.

and don’t get him wrong, he loves his daughter very much, but he also loves you and it was finally his y/n time.

he enjoyed while it lasted which wasn’t enough to him but like nanami you spent at least 9 hours together what.

the little miss stole you for herself the moment she came home.

she also invited you both for tea in her little toy house, but had nanami put on make up, a crown, and a skirt and go drink tea alone in a corner.

when he asked her why, she just went, “you’re supposed to be the pretty maid so wait until you get ‘i am becoming a princess’ arc.”

the arc never came.

another thing is that nanami finds it bizarre that you wonder where the hell did her mischief come from.

there is no way that it isn’t innate and it is obvious when he looks at both of you, particularly right now.

these smirks and puffed out chests of pride and your shared giggles are full-proof. you had just done a harmless prank on your poor husband and he just stared at you both, unable to form a response to this bullying anymore.

“(d/n), i need to talk to mommy about something so that okay?”

“oh okay! good luck, mommy!”

oh that traitor. probably learned it from uncle gojo.

“y/n.”

“yes, my dear and handsome husband?” you say in hopes in flattering him.

he gets up and stands right in front of you. he looks at you, “what was so funny about putting a gojo-patterned tie in my closet?”

you nearly bend over laughing when you recall what you did, but you compose yourself.

your husband isn’t pleased.

“you will have to repay me for that,” he says and you pout.

“how exactly will I do that, my lovely kento?”

he takes a hold of your hand and takes you to the bedroom with a smile, “an uninterrupted night with me.”

you chuckle and ask, “cuddles and kisses?”

“and more if you want; I am all yours.”

in the end, nanami feels and knows that he will never want you guys to stop how you fill his life with colors and laughter.

“haha! dad, I drew on your face!”

or maybe he wishes it would be toned down a bit.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or i will bite you

[mobbu-min]

☆ marry you ☆

(ft. the housewardens)

It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do. Who cares, baby, I think I wanna marry you.

In which, he overhears how much you want to marry him.

a/n: despite all the requests i have, i find myself writing more indulgent fics -sigh-

tw: cursing

Riddle Rosehearts <3

⋆ Oh dear, poor Riddle is beyond flustered. Hearing you so openly say how much you want to marry him and spend the rest of your waking moments with him makes his heart flutter and pound. Cheeks dusted a bright red and eyes dazed with a lovesick glimmer.

⋆ Riddle is beyond happy, yet incredibly nervous.

⋆ Marriage had been a thought that came to him occasionally. Seeing you in such a beautiful attire staring at him lovingly and saying you do. Wearing a ring he worked so so hard for. Kissing you lips to seal the deal, is something he would love to see.

⋆ Perhaps after he successfully gets his degree and starts his profession, he’ll indulge you. Get you the ring of your dreams and kneel in front of you in a garden of roses. Staring lovingly into your shocked gaze. A wonderful thought, no?

“My rose, although we are still young and still have much to do, I want you to know, in my heart and if life will allow it, my plan has involved you since the beginning. Ahem, in other words, please be patient, my dear.”

Leona Kingscholar <3

⋆ I feel like I say this all the time, but he’s a smug bastard!

⋆ Look, Leona has never thought about marriage, not that he’s like ‘ew, barf, marriage’ more like it's just not something that is incredibly pressing in his life. He remembers Farena and his wife’s proposal and wedding, and of course the countless of royal/nobel weddings he was forced to attend, but other than that, marriage was never a thought that crossed his mind.

⋆ However, when he began to go out with you, it had come across his mind once or twice. Especially on those days where the world seemed particularly against him and you wordlessly handed him food you lovingly prepared and fed him with his head on your lap. Or that one time, you asked him to teach you chess only for you to continuously fail and claim you’ll get better soon and the next week you came back with a smug look on your face and claim you’ve had help from the Chess Gods (riddle and youtube), only to get your ass beat again. Did that dissuade you? No, because you're persistent. Or the one time Leona had actually attended class and was bored as hell, only for you to tap on the window(successfully startling him) and telling him to meet you in five minutes at the botanical gardens. And the moment he arrived, you surprised him again with a cute little picnic and chess.

⋆ There, of course, were millions and millions of other reasons, but regardless, Leona wouldn’t mind marrying you.

⋆ And with enough persistence, he might just pop up the question sooner or later.

⋆ Too many things have slipped between his grasp, and he isn’t going to let you do the same.

“If you wanted me so badly, you could’ve just said so, herbivore. Ha, why so flustered? Cat’s got your tongue? Hm, c’mere…-yawn-…here, let’s get married.”

Azul Ashengrotto <3

⋆ Runs to his office to bring up his 10 year plan to change marriage from year 6 all the way down to year 2.

⋆ Like this man has already booked everything you could possibly want for your wedding. Clothing, flowers, venue and food, music and guests. Hell even, the cleaners are all booked and ready. He’s been planning it since your third date.

⋆ Call him hopeful, or delusional, or just plain stubborn, but Azul is dead set on having you as his spouse.

⋆ Azul is over the moon, everyone can see his change in demeanor. So much softer, a lot more lenient and a little more eager to spend his time with you. This change is welcomed by everyone, especially the twins since they see Azul’s change as a new tool to get what they want and tease him even more.

⋆ Azul loves you, so much that it hurts. So knowing that you want him just as badly as he wants you, makes him swoon.

⋆ Lowkey immediately called his mom that he got engaged (even though he hasn’t yet). Literally kicking his feet back and forth as he talks about you. Pure adoration slipping off his tongue, sweet like honey.

⋆ And you better get ready, Azul is making his proposal as romantic and mind blowing as he can. An event neither of you can ever forget.

“Love seeing you today, my sea angel. My, did you do your hair? New clothes? Oh, I see you’re wearing the earrings I got you, how lovely. -ahem- Forgive for getting off track- hm? W-why am I so red? Ha…no-no, I’m not sick, sea angel. I simply have big news to tell you.”

Kalim Al Asim <3

⋆ The only thing stopping him from proposing outright is that he doesn’t have the ring he has under his pillow for you!

⋆ Oh and ofc, jamil’s there. (silently cursing you out and congratulating you simultaneously)

⋆ He wastes no time proposing outright. With the help of Jamil, he manages to plan an ideal and romantic time and place to declare his undying love for you. A lovely, fulfilling meal made by Jamil in the candlelit dining room of Scarabia followed by a stunning flight through the night clouds with the moon’s soft gazing gliding over you. And at the oasis, next to the bushes of blooming desert flowers and the warm caresses of the heat, does he pop the question!

⋆ Kalim literally cannot thank the world enough for bringing you into his life. You’re his everything! He swears his heart beats for you and only you. That his life never truly began until you smiled so brightly in his direction. His ruby eyes struck with a shameless lovestruck gaze.

⋆ Kalim truly has never been happier than with you. And knowing, he’s able to keep his happiness and ensure yours is everything he could ever dream of.

“Marry me! … Huh? Why are you hiding? ..oh! Haha, I can’t help it! I’ve wanted to marry you since the day we met! I know you're the one for me! …hehe, I hope I’m the one for you!”

Vil Schoenhiet <3

⋆ How bold of you. Already demanding a proposal from the Vil Schoenheit. Goodness, have you never been taught any patience? Very well, let's see what he can do.

⋆ Vil already has a pinterest board of your future ready to go. Everything ready from the smallest detail. Similar to Azul, nothing will ruin his perfect day.

⋆ Of course, Vil has thought about marrying you. Though not until much later in life, he wants to pursue his career more and the thought of leaving you alone for many nights, leaves him with an ill feeling in his stomach. Surely, you’d understand the pressure of being a high demand actor/model these days, right?

⋆ Either way, Vil’s stuck with the idea for days. Often dozing off to the thought of you holding a bouquet of carefully put together flowers standing near an open window basking in the sunlight. Your hair is put up with a simple flower decorating your ear. A smile stretched ear to ear as you beckoned him near. Fixing his suit and kissing his cheeks, giggling sweetly and whispering as if you were both a lovestruck teen couple sneaking out at night.

⋆ Then he thinks of coming home after a day of interviews, coming through the door of his shared penthouse. Seeing you setting dinner up, a domestic sight to behold. The beautiful amethyst ring that adorns your ring finger glinting in the warm lighting. Kissing his lips and helping him sit down in his seat, carefully undoing his hair and massaging his scalp. He’ll hear you talk about your day, about the cat you saw, about the traffic you encountered on the way back from work and the cute kid you helped at the park.

⋆ That thought sounds so appealing, like an apple, red and ripe, beckoning for him to bite.

⋆ Eventually, it gets too much. His heart pounds and yearns to see you wearing the ring from his dreams, the ring he’s already contacted the most experienced jewelry maker in the world to make.

⋆ He’s like a ticking time bomb, simply waiting for a chance to prove his love to his dearest star.

“I’ve never believed in fairy tales, I’ll have you know. After constantly staring in productions of famous tales, the amazement and wonder of them has faded away. That’s not to say that I no longer love them, I just realized that I’ve been living that fairytale life I’ve read so much about with you… Don’t laugh! …heh, I suppose it is quite amusing, huh? My star, will you make my fairytale come true?”

Idia Shroud <3

⋆ Literally crashes!!! Stops working and Ortho, my sweet baby, has to haul his lanky ass to the infirmary. Like, he acts like he got shot at, then electrocuted then told to go take out the trash.

⋆ On a more personal level though, Idia is actually really apprehensive to marriage. He’s seen how cold his parents are to each other. The silent dinners, the cold stares, the heartlessness of their touch. Nothing about his parents screamed a loving and healthy relationship. Perhaps when he was younger, more hopeful, did he dream of a day where he would whisk his one true love away and live happily ever after with them and his brother.

⋆ To him, marriage is scary. Like scarier than public speaking, or an ultra mega level boss that he’s severely under prepared for! (ahem-malleus-ahem)

⋆ But that was ages ago, and that dream had long since died. Accepting that he’s destined for a life of solitude. Rejecting all human feelings for a way to protect himself, his heart, from both harm and harming.

⋆ However, Idia finds out that he can’t. Despite him feeling less than human most days, he feels the most human when he’s with you. And as much as he hated it at first, he can’t deny that he loves the way his cheeks flare and heart dances at the sight of you.

⋆ And all of his favorite shoujo anime always guaranteed a happy ending for the main couple. And let's be honest, you’re obviously the main character and Idia's more than happy being your love interest.

⋆ Marriage, although scary and frightening, doesn’t sound that bad if you’re the one he’s giving his life too. Sharing a life with you is more than what Idia thinks he deserves.

⋆ But a life with you is a life worth living.

“Huh? What is it? It’s a w-wedding v-venue, ofc! I t-thought w-we could p-practice, y’know?….You like it! How long did it take? …oh, well Ortho helped me a bunch getting it ready…Oh! Before we start, we need to wait for Ortho to log into Minecraft. He wanted to be the flower girl.”

Malleus Draconia <3

⋆ Babe, he’s been waiting for this!

⋆ Malleus has loved you since the moment you locked eyes. His heart was forever bound to you the moment you told him your name. Souls intertwined when you held him to your warmth. Fingers threading against his hair, and voice turned into a mere whisper as you proclaimed your love for him.

⋆ Malleus has loved you since the beginning and never once doubted it. Never once shied away from the thought of giving you his life. Malleus adores you and wishes for nothing more than to wake up every morning knowing you are his and he is yours.

⋆ A hopeless romantic, Malleus jumbles from proposing right then and there or giving you a night to remember. Ultimately going for the latter.

⋆ Similar to Kalim, he treats you to dinner then a stroll through a moonlit garden. Fireflies dancing around you both, humming and singing as they recognize the adoration and love swirling through the night air. Leading you to a clearing, he’ll dance with you. Twirling you around to the melody of his deep, soothing humming. Hauntingly enchanting. Bringing you into a sense of security.

⋆ His large hands caressing every part of your body. Pools of bright emerald gazing oh so lovingly at you. How he wishes he could immortalize this moment. In his mind, he works fast to paint down your sweet, endearing, expression to his memory. Each stroke of his mind crafting you so lovingly, never wanting this precious moment to end.

⋆ And of course, everything comes to an end. A sweet end for the night. One filled with joyous tears and hopeful laughter. A bright future ahead of you both.

⋆ A future Malleus is willing to fight for to ensure.

“This color will suit you perfectly, darling. Such a beautiful design for such a beautiful soul, no? Don’t shy away from me…See, such a pretty expression. Please, allow me to bask in every expression you’ll ever make, my treasure.”

[myspacebrat]

throuple, throuple, toil and trouble

modern steddie x only fans reader

summary: after adjusting to life under the same roof, you and the boys decide to throw a Halloween party. Most of Steve and Eddie’s friends drive in from Hawkins, too excited to meet their friends new girl, they’ve heard so much about. But not everyone comes barring good intentions.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, pictures are for aesthetic purposes only(no mention of skin color or hair texture), consented somnophilia, oral sex (m receiving), allusions to frotting, showering together, jealous!steddie, slut shaming, mentions of reader being drugged and sexually assaulted, smoking weed, drinking, fighting, blood, unprotected double v penetration, body worship, cream pie, the boys reminding you who you belong to.

authors note: part two of ‘welcome to the dungeon…’ I hope you enjoy (: as always thank you to @xxhellfiregirlxx & @take-everything-you-can for being the best betas <3

wc: 7.2k

series masterlist

“Mmm, well good fuckin’ mornin’ to me.” Eddie growls, as two of the most beautiful people he’s ever witnessed lay between his hairy, pale legs.

“Yes, suck the tip Stevie, while our princess sucks my balls.” He continues through gritted teeth, “fuck yeah.” He hissed before bringing both hands to rub down his face and through his frizzy, bed hair.

“God, if this is just another wet dream, I’m gonna be pissed.” He chuckles before it turns into a loud whimper caused by the particularly hard suck you gave to his balls while Steve pushed his head down further, bringing Eddie’s cock deeper down his throat.

“Does that feel real enough?” You tease before sliding your tongue across the metalhead's sensitive sack and down to his gooch.

“Oh, someone’s fucking mouthy this morning.” He declares, making Steve giggle with a mouth full of cock.

Eddie tugs at Steve’s luscious locks, pulling him off as a loud pop rings out into the sunlit room, causing the little cock slut to whine, but before you can tease him, the older boy is grabbing a handful of your hair and wrapping it once around his knuckles, pushing you down onto his spit soaked cock.

“Yeah, can’t say anything now, can you baby?” Eddie mocks, making your cunt clench around absolutely nothing.

The groggy boy thrusts his hips harder into your mouth before bringing Steve’s needy lips to his. They kiss and suck at each other as Eddie continues to fuck your deliciously sore throat.

The smacks and moans coming from the head of the bed, egg you on as you twist, suck and gag on Eddie’s painfully hard cock.

“Can Steve come help me?” You beg as you bat your lashes up at your boys, making them break their hot as shit, kiss.

“You want Stevie boy to help you clean up my cum? Is that it?” Eddie knows how much you and Steve love swapping his cum through sloppy kisses, hell Eddie loves it more than both of you combined, so who is he to deny you?

“Get down there with our girl, baby.” He whispers to Steve before bringing him in for one last kiss.

The pretty boy obliges by sliding down and planting himself right beside you.

“Hi.” He whispers sweetly, giving you a quick kiss to your lips before bringing his to one side of Eddie’s shaft, moving up and down in quick but calculated movements.

You shadow him by bringing your lips to the other side, matching his pace and occasionally licking the vein that runs up Eddie’s throbbing cock.

“Oh, fuck yeah.” The older boy mumbles under his breath as his eyes shift from yours to Steve’s. Both of you looking up at him while your mouths move simultaneously along his cock, will have him busting in your mouths in seconds, it’s honest to god his weakness. He feels like a king being worshiped by two beautiful servants. Like the luckiest son of a bitch, alive.

You and Steve rub your tongues together over his tip, spit and precum clinging to both sets of lips that continue their assault on the bright pink, spongy skin.

“Oh fu-uck! Tongues out. Now.” Eddie demands through loud huffs of pleasure. Once both of you have your tongues displayed for the metalhead, warm spurts of cum hit one before he brings his tip to the other, giving his two cum sluts their well deserved treat.

You both hold the cum exactly where it landed, letting Eddie get a good look at his mess before you and the pretty boy begin kissing, swapping loads back and forth, the treat drips down Steve’s chin and you eagerly lick it away before continuing the sloppy share of Eddie’s beloved seed.

It’s been a month and a half since Eddie and Steve have moved in with you, the first two weeks were a mixture of awkward and taut energy as you three adjust to life together. Not to mention the sexual tension between you and the boys, having to hear them some mornings or nights being intimate with each other while you knew you wanted so badly to be a part of it and them wanting you to join but not wanting to come off too strong.

It was a challenge, that is until Steve finally had enough and sat you down their second week of residency, with a very shy but eager Eddie by his side.

“So what did you guys wanna talk about?” Your voice low and your fingers fidgeting with nervousness as you pick up the haphazardly strewn about mail laid out on the kitchen table, stacking it together before shuffling it like a pile of cards.

“Well…” Steve draws out, “to just put everything out on the table…Eddie and I felt something that night, the night we came over and ya know, filmed with you… and we thought we’d just kinda continue whatever it is we had going on, but it just sorta seems like you’ve been pulling away from us.”

He runs a nervous hand through his chestnut locks before continuing “did you not feel it, too?” Eddie and Steve look at you with doe eyes, filled with sadness as they both search your face for answers.

“I did feel something, too…” you begin as you look back and forth between the pretty boy and metalhead, “I just didn’t want to come in between anything or insert myself where I didn’t belong.” You admit, as your anxious fingers continue to fidget, now with your rings.

“Baby,” Eddie starts, giving you that puppy dog look that makes you weak in the knees, the one where he tucks his chin into his chest, looking at you through his long lashes. “Trust me when I say, you belong between us.”

And that’s how your month-long relationship with the boys started. They quit their job at ‘the dungeon’ to make content with you full time.

After you had posted the video to your only fans, your subscribers went crazy for Steve and Eddie, wanting to see more of them with you, along with so many requests for them to make their own; where they could do solo content, which you heavily encouraged.

You and Steve came up with the idea of turning one of the guest rooms into a “sex dungeon” as Eddie called it. Shelves lined with dildos belonging to all three of you; the flesh like one that attached to the strap on you’ve used to fuck Steve with sat front and center, a sex swing; compliments of the boys sat in the corner next to the window lined in black sheer curtains. Ring lights, tripods and any electronic equipment were placed neatly in the spacious walk-in closet and lube, handcuffs, vibrators and butt plugs took up the two drawers in the bed side table.

The other guest room; that was now left vacant, belonged to Eddie and Steve when they first moved in. Now you all share the primary room with discussions of purchasing a bigger bed as Eddie was a stage five clinger in his sleep, he enjoyed being right underneath you or Steve at all times during the night, but you had a feeling a bigger bed wasn't going to change that habit.

Things were perfect, like all levels of the honeymoon phase, perfect. There was only one thing left in your relationship to do, and that was to meet their friends from Hawkins, and for them to meet Michelle. So like the genius you are, you planned to throw a Halloween party with it being mid October, the leaves now beautiful shades of orange, red and browns. It was going to be perfect.

So some cleaning and decorating were in order.

“Fuck.” Eddie huffs, before stretching with a loud yawn. “You both wear me the fuck out.” He chuckles to himself before finding his previously discarded boxer shorts, that were covered in dried up cum from last night's tryst of frotting both boys until they came all over each other's spent cocks and the fabric that Eddie was too impatient to remove all the way.

You and Steve giggle at the metalhead between kisses, you can still taste Eddie on his tongue as you continue devouring his mouth.

“I’m gonna go take a shower, you two have fun.” Eddie smirks down at you both, giving a salacious wink, before sauntering over towards the bathroom.

“Mmm, I get you all to myself?” The pretty boy purrs before kissing down your jaw towards your sweet spot, just under your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you full.” He growls into your ear making you moan and shiver. “I know after sucking cock together your pussy turns into a slip-n-slide.” The honey eyed boy whispers before softly biting at your earlobe.

“Mhm.” You moan back in agreement. “Need it so bad, Stevie.” You gasp as one of Steve’s fingers roughly pinch at your peaked nipple.

“I know you do, baby.” He nods with a mocking pout on his lips. “My little cock slut.” He playfully chides, giving one last tug to your nipple.

“Yeah, you and me both.” You retort, making him laugh into your neck.

“You're not wrong there.” He guffaws, “but, I'm a pussy slut right now.” His response pulls a belly laugh from you as you lay your head on his shoulder. God, you love him.

Wait what?

“Lay back baby, let me show you how much of slut I am for your pretty pussy.”

You and Steve make it down stairs an hour later, all giggles and flirty banter as you both walk into the kitchen, taking in the mess and calculating what needs to be cleaned and where decorations should go.

Eddie went to pick up last minute things for the party, giving you and Steve a sweet kiss while the pretty boy pounded into you from the back. Eddie smiled to himself, shaking his head in complete adoration for the both of you. With anyone else, Eddie would have been an angry, jealous mess; walking out to see the person he’s in love with fucking someone else. But with you, it was different because that love now extended to you, too. You weren't just a random person to them, seeing you and Steve together made him anything but angry. He loved taking a backseat and watching his two lovers, love on each-other. That shit was pure ecstasy, man.

Once all the dishes were washed, floors were swept and mopped and all surfaces were wiped down; you and Steve decide to take a quick shower together before getting straight to decorating.

While you were washing the shampoo out of the pretty boy's signature locks the shower curtain was being ripped open, making you and your boyfriend yelp from sheer terror.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie says with a snicker, “Is that how you’d protect our girl from an intruder, huh Stevie?” The metalhead jokes as he removes his clothes,

“Oh, I didn't expect anyone to pull a psycho on me today, sorry my guard was down.” Steve sasses as he rolls his eyes.

“Always gotta be on guard, baby.” Eddie responds with, as he steps into the shower leaving you squished between both boys. You couldn't help but to giggle at their banter, you loved it.

“Sorry angel, don’t mean to take up all the room, but I missed you both and I just wanted to be next to you.” The long haired boy confesses as he playfully grabs for yours and Steve's ass. “Two juicy asses, how’d I get so lucky?” He says through gritted teeth, as his eyes glaze over in lust.

“I feel the same way about your cocks.” You admit, bringing both boys in towards you as you share a threeway kiss, all lips and tongues. Both of them moan into it, making you want to say ‘to hell with the party’ and spend all day in bed fucking each others brains out, but you knew that wasn’t an option.

“Come on, we still have so much to do.” You say, delivering swift slaps to both of their behinds, before you're grabbing your towel off the rack and stepping out.

Finally, after all your guys’ hard work, the house is set up for the Halloween party of your dreams.

The front door was lined with pumpkin lanterns, an animatronic ghost face stands tall on your front porch, the fog machines are on and smoking up the walkway, spooky sounds ready to go off when the party goers ring the doorbell.

Once inside, all the light bulbs have been changed to either orange or purple and there’s a walkway of stickers that look like bloody footsteps and splatters leading to the snack table in the dining room. Everywhere you look there’s a bat, spider or pumpkin; even the guest bathroom was decorated in some type of Halloween fashion.

But the snack table was the real star of the show, it sat lined with all of the treats Eddie ran out and picked up; caramel apples, cookies, cupcakes, cake pops, even a s’mores bar.

A cauldron filled with dry ice and jones green apple soda sat in the center as it bubbled and fogged up like a real potion, a spider web tablecloth laid beneath the display and orange lights were intertwined between the trays of sweets.

On the kitchen island lay the appetizers; nachos, mummies in a blanket, a cheese board with a plastic skeleton lying in the middle, and finally the numerous boxes of pizzas you ordered.

Everything was perfect.

How you all got it done between quick make out sessions and groping each other every five minutes was beyond you, but you were proud of the outcome, nonetheless.

When your first guests arrived you were already fitted in your tight shiny black tube dress, matching gloves that went up mid shoulder, a little pointy witch hat, black knee high socks and your black platform Mary Jane’s.

The boys were in their matching black cat costumes which mainly consisted of all black clothes, cat ears, cat collars and their faces painted with whiskers and a snout. They were the cutest little kittens.

Steve answered the door as the spooky Halloween sounds rang out through the house.

“Hey, baby.” Steve called from the front door as you were setting out the black solo cups.

Once you and Steve are standing side by side, Eddie runs downstairs, ready to greet the first guests.

“Baby, this is Robin and her girlfriend Chrissy.” The pretty boy says, beaming with his million dollar smile, as he motions to the two beautiful girls standing in front of you. Robin was Mia Wallace from Pulp fiction while Chrissy was the bride from Kill bill, they looked equally amazing.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you.” You say as you go in for a hug. Chrissy gives you a bear hug as if you’ve known eachother forever while Robin gives an awkward side hug that makes you giggle in amusement.

After introductions Steve gives Robin and Chrissy the grand tour, while you get back to setting up the finishing touches.

Throughout the night, new faces continued to show up; you met the hellfire kids, their girlfriends and will’s boyfriend, Eddie’s old bandmates and their girlfriends, some friends of Steve’s from high school and Eddie’s old buddy Rick and a couple of his friends.

For living thirty minutes from Hawkins, it was a pretty good turn out.

You stride into the living room from the kitchen, looking for one of your boyfriends. Finally catching a glimpse of Eddie’s wavy brown locks as he takes a seat on the couch surrounded by familiar faces, blunt in hand and ready to light up before his eyes meet yours. He sends you a smile and a wink before waving you over.

“Hey, pretty girl. Come take a seat.” He says as he pats his lap, gently pulling you down by your arm before you situate yourself on top of him. “Careful there, angel.” Eddie whispers into your ear with a smirk as your bottom slid against his now growing bulge.

As Eddie was sparking up his blunt, too preoccupied for his surroundings, you caught eyes with two boys you had met earlier and were introduced to as Steve’s friends from high school; Billy and Tommy if you remembered correctly. They were eyeing you up and down hungrily from across the room, cocky smirks on their lips as they spoke back and forth, clearly about you.

You looked away as quickly as your eyes found them and when you glanced back over, they were gone.

You let out a heavy exhale of breath you didn’t realize you were holding as your attention went back to the metalhead underneath you.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Eddie asks as he softly kisses your neck before offering you a hit.

“I’m okay,” you say with double meaning towards Eddie’s question and his offer of the blunt.

“I actually have to pee, I'll be back in a bit.” You announce before Eddie quickly takes your chin in his grip and pecks your lips as he says through each kiss “okay…I’ll…see…you…later.”

You walk to the bathroom quickly, hoping not to be stopped by Steve’s “friends”.

You should’ve told Eddie about the way they were looking at you, but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that could potentially be nothing. Maybe they weren’t even looking at you, maybe there was more to it… whatever it was, you didn’t wanna be the thing that came between any boyfriend and his friends.

You make it into the hallway just outside the bathroom when you’re stopped by a rather tipsy Robin.

“Hey,” she cheerfully chirps, “I’ve been meaning to thank you, all night.” She beams but her words of gratitude confuse you.

“Thank me for what?” You ask curiously.

“For making Steve happy, Eddie too…” she says with a bashful smile, “they’ve been through a lot. Steve was pretty torn up over his ex, he wouldn’t move on for years, and was convinced no one else could love him. Then he found Eddie and don’t get me wrong I know he’s so in love with Eddie and they're happy…but now he has two people who will love him and give him what he’s always deserved… so thank you!” She goes in for a hug, this time it’s not an awkward side hug, but the same bear hug Chrissy graced you with, earlier.

“Of course, I intend on always making them both happy.” You admit as your heart flutters at her words.

She nods in satisfaction “I’m gonna go dance with Chrissy, if you want you can totally come and cut in, I’m sure Chrissy would love to dance with someone who actually knows how.” You both chuckle before going separate ways.

You use the bathroom quickly, wash your hands, then give yourself a once over in the mirror before heading back out into the barely lit hallway.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you.” Steve says sweetly as he hugs you, both hands slide down your back slowly before he grabs at the meat of your ass through your tight dress. “Need you and Ed’s so bad tonight.” He whispers into your ear making a chill run down your spine in anticipation.

“You’ll have us baby.” You whisper back before kissing him deeply. You both moan into it before you pull away or else you’d end up fucking him right in the middle of the hallway.

“Mmm, I’m gonna use the bathroom and I’ll find you back out there, unless you wanna…” Steve nods towards the bathroom with a sly smirk. Fuck, these boys were gonna kill you.

“I think we should wait until everyones gone, get real filthy, ya know?” You purr as your fingers slowly walk up his chest before you boop him on the nose, then turn to leave.

“Fuck.” He exhales, shaking his head in utter disbelief and amusement as he heads into the bathroom to relieve himself of all the jones green apple soda mixed with vodka, he’s been drinking like water.

When you walk back into the party, you instantly find Chrissy and Robin in the middle of the living room dancing to Thriller with a few of the girls that came with Eddie’s band and DND club, they’re all laughing and smiling and the whole thing makes your heart feel so full.

Before you’re able to talk yourself out of the invitation you were given, you walk up to them; Chrissy immediately invites you in as she hooks her arm in yours giving you a bright smile.

“Hey, you.” She cheerfully greets you with. You could tell you and Chrissy were going to be fast friends, which you were thankful for considering making friends was never your strong suit and your one and only friend wasn't able to make the party.

You all dance, laugh and joke together for a long stretch of the night, you really haven't had this much fun and let loose with other girls in a long time.

Amber, who you now know is with Gareth, brought over fireball shots for you all to take.

The crowd cheers when you all smash them back.

You almost immediately make eye contact with Steve and Eddie who are sitting on the couch in perfect view of you after the hot liquid seeps down your throat. They’re smiling at you like love sick fools, making your stomach flutter and heart skip as your cheeks grow hot, making you look down towards your feet as if they've suddenly become more interesting.

But before you have a chance to look back up, your body immediately snaps to the voice in your ear that comes from behind you.

“Hello beautiful.” You tense up as a terrifying chill runs through you.

“Um, hi.” You meekly respond with, as your head turns to find Chrissy and Robin dancing, kissing and smiling no longer paying a lick of attention to you.

You didn't want to be rude and tell Billy to leave you alone so you continued to sway back and forth in front of him while he smiled down at you with the most predatory eyes you've ever encountered.

“This is a cute little party you’ve put together.” He chuckles as his minty breath hits your face before he's moving in closer to you.

“Thanks.” You dryly say to what felt like a condescending comment.

“Aw, you shy princess?” He asks before he’s tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Actually, I just came over to tell you I'm a big fan...” He reveals, before getting closer to your ear. “A huge fan.” He whispers.

You feel almost stuck to the ground as you make no moves to get away, until you feel a hand being wrapped around your waist.

“Sup Hargrove? You’re a little close to my girl, don’tcha think?” The metalhead says through clenched teeth.

“Oh, my bad Munson. You're right, you're right..” He says as he takes one more head to toe glance at you before turning and walking back to his freckled faced friend.

“I fuckin’ hate that guy.” Eddie growls as he grabs onto you possessively, as if to mark his territory in front of the two creeps.

“Why is he here then?” You ask curiously as you place your arms over Eddie's shoulders, gently grabbing onto the nape of his neck.

“They’re friends with Steve, use to play basketball with him in high school but they don’t really keep in touch anymore so I honestly have no fuckin’ clue.” He scoffs, giving them one more death glare from over your shoulder.

“You both okay?” Robin asks as she now stands beside you with a bubbly and drunk Chrissy.

“Yeah, we're good.” Eddie speaks up as his grip on you tightens. “You wanna come get some pizza with me, baby?” He whispers before placing a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah, let’s go.” You agree as he eagerly grabs at your hand, interlocking your fingers as you both walk into the kitchen on a hunt for the last few pieces.

Most of the night you find yourself in heavy rotation with Eddie, Steve, Robin and Chrissy but occasionally making your rounds to talk to and get to know more of the boys’ friends.

You find yourself in an interesting conversation with Jeff and his girlfriend Lily who want to start an Only fans of their own, asking for tips and the do’s and don'ts of it all.

“Fuck, I want you so bad.” Steve whispers to Eddie through the lewd smack of their lips.

“I know baby boy but we have to wait, okay? Can you be a good boy for me?” Eddie asks, making Steve whine into the kisses he was placing on the older boy's neck, making him chuckle.

“So damn needy, aren’t you?” The metalhead growls as he grips and pulls his boyfriend's hair, immediately removing his lips from his skin.

A voice coming from the garage stops Eddie in his tracks.

“She looks so fucking good tonight.”

“Yeah, but you’ve seen her, she’s all over Steve and Eddie man, she won’t go for it.”

“Fuck that. Trust me she will, she’s a slut, plus I think they’re in an open relationship or some weird shit anyway, they’re sure as shit not serious if they’re all fucking each other. Come on man this is why we came.”

“Hmm, I don't know dude might have to slip something in her drink to guarantee a sure time.” One of them snorts at the sick joke.

“Hey, we’ll do what we gotta do.”

The boys are absolutely sure now that the voices coming from behind the garage door belong to Tommy and Billy.

Eddie is seething, his hands are clenched so tight all the veins in his arms are sure to be popping out as his breathing becomes ragged.

Steve goes from horny to fucking fuming in seconds.

“Hey assholes!” Eddie shouts as he rips open the heavy door making the two idiots freeze in a state of shock.

“Oh fuck.” Tommy says under his breath as he sees the looks on the other boys' faces.

“You thought you were gonna come into our house and fuck our girl?! You two fucks are even dumber than I thought.” The metalhead spits as his ringed finger points at them in a blind rage.

“Hey dude, chill the fuck out!” Billy growls, stepping up into Eddie’s face.

Billy fucking Hargrove, always looking for a fight.

‘Well he came to the right place’ Eddie thinks to himself.

“You both need to get the fuck out of here. Now.” Steve says with so much indignation, if Eddie wasn’t so pissed, it would’ve been sure to make his cock twitch.

“Nah, I think there’s a fine piece of ass in there waiting for me.” Billy snides, pushing both boys out of the way as he takes a step inside.

Before he can, he’s being pulled back by his leather jacket, falling flat on the floor. Eddie immediately straddles the mullet haired boy, hitting him with his fists until his knuckles begin to ache and blood becomes visible from both him and Billy.

Tommy goes to pull Eddie off but Steve is there in a flash, punching Tommy and instantly cracking his nose. Steve’s never been one to fight or win one for that matter, but the anger that came over him at their words and their threats to drug and rape you, made him see red.

You along with the older hellfire boys make your way out into the garage after hearing some of the commotion. When you walk in you’re met with a bloody scene; Eddie’s on top of Billy, his fists flying and his face screwed up in complete rage.

Steve has Tommy by the collar of his shirt holding him up against a wall, the freckled faced boy's wounds match Billy’s as crimson red streams from his nose.

Steve says something through his teeth before he’s letting go and letting the boy drop to his knees.

Gareth and Jeff pull Eddie off, holding him back as he tries to get away and finish off what he started.

“You shitheads need to get the fuck outta here, now! I’m not gonna fucking say it again.” Steve roared, making both boys get up and stumble back to their cars, as they grab at their faces that are now gushing with blood.

You look on in horror, completely confused as to what started the whole brawl.

You go for Eddie first who is still shaking with fury.

“Baby, what happened?” You frantically question as you grab at his leather jacket, trying to calm his shaking form.

He immediately grabs you, tucking you into his chest as his arms close in around your body, tightly squeezing and swaying as if he hadn’t seen you all night. He continues by kissing the top of your head over and over until you look up at him, his eyes glassy and red but now all you can see in them is love, so much love that it almost takes your breath away.

He cups your face, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks before he’s kissing you, deeply.

Steve comes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around you and Eddie as he lays his head on your shoulder, making you and Eddie break from your kiss.

Steve had been explaining what had happened to Gareth, Grant and Jeff as well as to a wide eyed Robin who walked in at the tail end of the confrontation.

“I think we should tell everyone to leave.” Steve whispers, making you and Eddie nod in agreement.

You all say your goodbyes with lots of hugs and ‘nice to meet yous’ as everyone heads out to their hotels they’d booked around the city.

Robin and Chrissy head up to your guest bedroom, falling asleep almost instantly on the comfortable, fluffy bed.

You take your boyfriend’s into the guest bathroom to clean up their fists while they explain what happened with Tommy and Billy. You were not shocked to say the least and decided to inform them on how you caught the creeps looking at you when you were sitting on Eddie’s lap, more anger filled them as Eddie and Steve agreed they deserved worse than what was given to them.

Finally, while you follow each other upstairs they can’t keep their hands off of you, it’s almost as if it’s primal instinct, like they now have to show you who you belong to. They both tug at your dress exposing your tits while halfway up the stairs. Steve gives your nipples attention until you reach the top where Eddie picks you up bridal style walking you to your shared bedroom as Steve follows behind.

The metalhead throws you onto the bed as both boys eye you with complete, carnal need.

Steve removes your shoes before he’s tugging your dress off the rest of the way, this time they take your knee highs off, wanting you completely naked for them.

Each boy kisses up and down your body, worshiping you as they whisper sweet words of praise into your skin.

“You're so beautiful, baby.” Steve says, before Eddie cuts in with “and you’re all ours.”

Eddie snakes an arm around you, moving you up towards your pillows as if you weigh nothing. He tears your panties off with a loud rip with promises to buy you a new pair as he and Steve lay on either side of you. They kiss your jaw, neck and arms as they each take one of your thighs, rubbing their palms against the meat of them before they're spreading them wider, hooking each foot over their laps so they have easier access to your center.

A shiver runs through you, the parallel in which you felt with Billy is staggering as you realize you will never want anyone, the way you want them.

Both boys bring their wet lips down to your already peaked nipples as they lick and suck at the erect buds, they snake their hands higher between your thighs as they each moan at the wetness that has built up for them and them alone.

Eddie slips two expert fingers into you and hooks them, immediately finding your g-spot, while Steve runs his thumb over your already throbbing clit.

“Holy shit!” You whine in complete and utter pleasure as they both worship and play your body like an instrument.

“Yeah? That feel good, angel?” Eddie mocks, making you moan out louder as both boys’ fingers pick up their pace. The metalhead fucks his into you, as wet squelching could be heard over your wanton screams.

“That’s a good girl, taking everything we give you so good.” Steve praises after popping off of your nipple, that now shines with his spit.

“Just fucking made for us, weren’t you baby?” The long haired boy says while continuing to hit your spot, making your toes curl and your eyes roll back as your peak hits you like a blinding light.

“I’m g-gonna cum, please!” You whine as you throw your head back in complete bliss as both boys attach to each nipple again, their fingers continue to make your spread legs shake.

“That’s it, pretty girl, cum for us. I can feel you squeezing my fingers, just let go.” Eddie whispers

Their unused hands intertwined together behind your head, leaving you all attached to each other.

You’ve never felt so loved, as you let go and give them just what they want.

“Oh fuck!” You shout as you squirm in between them, a gush of fluid wetting their hands up to their wrists as they continue to fuck your through it.

“Fuck, that’s so hot!” Steve moans as he brings his fingers up to your mouth. “Open. Taste yourself.” He demands, you take his appendages that are now dripping in your cum and juices into your mouth, licking and sucking before taking them deep into your throat. Both boys groan as you bob your head, cleaning Steve’s fingers until the only wetness that is left is from your spit.

“That’s right, clean up your mess, dirty girl.” The metalhead growls as he brings his dripping fingers up and shoves them into your mouth after Steve’s removed his. “That’s a good girl.” He coos as he makes you gag, tears immediately fill your eyes as spit seeps out of your mouth and down onto his still reddened and split knuckles.

“Jesus, you’re so perfect, angel.” Eddie mutters as he nuzzles his nose into your jaw before placing more sweet kisses to your skin, a total juxtaposition to how he’s fucking your throat with his fingers.

The other brown eyed boy beside you nips at your ear as his fingers tweak at your sensitive nipples. All of their attention on you is so overwhelming in the best way possible and the fire that they just snuffed out in your lower belly, comes rushing back with a vengeance.

Eddie instantly removes his fingers as he feels you trying to clench your thighs together, that still lay over each boy's clothed lap.

Spit from your mouth dribbles down your chin and onto Steve’s hand that continues to play with your nipples, he roughly rubs the drool off your chin before he’s bringing it back down to your peaked bud, he oh so gently rubs it in with the pad of his index finger, creating goosebumps to form across your body.

The gentle touch to your nipple pulls a whine from between your lips as you grab onto both boys, “I need you.” Is all you can get out, as their hands work your body like their own personal work of art.

“Yeah sweet girl? What do you need, hm? tell daddy.” Eddie mocks with a fake pout.

Steve smiles into the kisses he’s placing onto your neck, at the use of Eddie’s title. There was once upon a time where that was his name for the metalhead but now it belongs to both of you, and fuck, If that's not an instant realization that he loves you and wants to share the other love of his life with you forever, then he doesn't know what is. It's almost as if there is no them, without you. Not anymore.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” Steve mutters to you, making you and Eddie stop, as both of your heads instantly snap towards him. Your wide eyed expression makes the pretty boy want to bury his head in the pillows in complete embarrassment. The metalhead’s stoic expression isn't helping.

“I-I love you too, both of you.” You admit, as your eyes switch from one boyfriend to the other.

Steve exhales a deep breath as Eddie’s face splits into a beaming smile.

“I love both of you, too. I think an unhealthy amount if I'm being honest.” The older boy jokes, but you and Steve both know there's so much truth behind his words.

“I need to feel you both, right now.” Steve whines, and as much as he’d love to have his boyfriend fuck him, what he really needs is to feel you, as his and Eddie’s cocks rub together.

“My two little needy, sluts.” The metalhead chides, before he’s up on his knees in an instant, pushing Steve down on his back and ripping off his clothes before he’s lifting you by your hips and placing you down on the pretty boy's lower stomach. You gasp in surprise; his strength causes the wetness between your thighs to puddle down on Steve’s happy trail, as he takes Steve’s throbbing cock into his mouth and sucks before he’s taking him deep in his throat and bobbing his head.

Steve sweetly takes your face into his hands, as he brings you closer to his lips, feverishly kissing you as his moans slip into your mouth.

Before you know it, Eddie is popping off of his boyfriend's cock and plunging it into your dripping pussy, making you both groan into the heated kiss.

The long haired boy comes up beside you, watching you both. Steve can no longer keep still, he bucks his hips up into yours causing both of you to moan out louder.

“Does that feel good?” He asks the pretty boy, making him bite his lip and nod with a little “mhm” before he’s fucking up into you even harder.

“Tell her, tell her how good she feels around your cock, Stevie.” Eddie whispers into his neck, sloppy kisses being trailed up to his jaw as the younger boy's eyes are rolling into the back of his head, so much pleasure being given to him, he can barely form the words.

“Y-you f-fuck, you feel so good baby, so good, so good…” he continues to repeat like a prayer as his eyes find yours, watching you as your face contorts in complete contentment.

Eddie’s moving back up onto his knees, not able to take anymore teasing as his cock is rock hard and painfully throbbing from just watching his two loves, making love. He needs to be inside one of you before he explodes.

“Inside her pussy.” Is all Steve says before he’s inching himself in right along the other boy's wet cock.

As much as you all have fucked, they’ve never been in one hole at the same time, well besides your mouth.

“Holy fuck, yes please!” You keen as your hand grasps at the headboard, gripping in such a fashion that your hand begins to ache but you can’t let go, as their cocks move simultaneously inside you.

“Yeah baby, take it.” Eddie growls as his hands cover Steve’s, who’s gripping your hips for dear life.

“I love feeling both of you at the same time. Fuck, it’s too good.” Steve whines before taking your nipple that sways above his head, into his mouth and sucking so hard you cry out, wiggling between them as your hips try to meet their matching thrusts.

“Stay still.” Eddie demands with a harsh slap to your ass, “Let us fuck you, kitten.” He groans as his thrusts get harder, skin slapping echoes out into the dimly lit room.

“Yes, daddy!” You sob as tears begin to form in your eyes at how amazing they feel, how much they’re stretching you out and how the steady fire in your belly begins to ignite deeper and blaze hotter, causing your whole body to shake and your eyes to snap shut.

The familiar build up of fluid can be felt before you're almost being pushed over the edge, about to cum so hard you feel as though you may lose consciousness.

A loud “ahh” is pulled from you as both boys perfectly abuse your g-spot with the tips of their achingly hard cocks. You clench around them so tight, making their sensitive tips rub closer together, bringing even more friction and stimulation.

“Oh fuck yeah, cum for us. Soak our cocks baby, c’mon.” Eddie whimpers, pulling your head back by your chin before he’s spitting into your open, wanton mouth.

You swallow it all down with a content sigh, so fucking close to the precipice of pleasure you can feel it as your toes begin to curl and your now grip on Steve’s shoulders gets tighter.

“Come on, fuck come on, pretty girl. Give it to us, baby. We need it.” The pretty boy groans as he tries to coax your orgasm out, faster.

“Oh, yes! I’m cumming!” You warn before a big splash of liquid drenches both boys, along with your new, red sheets below you.

“Yes, yes, I-Im mmm.” Steve moans as his cock begins to twitch, he paints Eddie's cock and your insides making both boys whimper into your skin.

The metalhead is the last to let go and when he does, he fucks his cum so deep inside you, it brings on one more intense but short orgasm from you. Making you clench again, around their sensitive, overstimulated and softening cocks as more liquid splashes onto their thighs.

The mixture of cum seeps down their shafts and to their balls. Eddie thinks the sight of all three of you mixed together is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, he fights his cock from twitching and coming back to life within seconds of such an intense release.

You and Eddie both fall off of Steve, into your respective places with you in the middle.

Both boys grab onto you and each other as if one of you could disappear into thin air, like losing either of you would be instantaneous.

After everyone's breathing settles and the room becomes quiet, Eddie chirps up. “I love you, both. Forever.” He says before he’s placing his head on your chest, his hand slides over your stomach as he reaches for Steve’s, they intertwine their fingers together before their hands settle on your lower stomach and over the sheet you’re all now laid under.

“I can’t wait to spend forever with my two favorite people.”

•taglist•

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[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [12]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 11 | Fic Masterlist | Part 13

Prince Yeosang.

The fourth son born to the King and Queen of Joseon, was among the most widely recognised princes in the nation, though not for reasons one might consider positive. Unlike his numerous brothers and sisters, he adamantly resisted marriage despite reaching a suitable age.

But of course, his singledom was not the main reason for the constant chatter about him. The real cause for the heightened attention was the prominent birthmark beside his left eye.

In Joseon, beauty held immense significance, particularly for members of the royal family, who were deemed superior and held to higher standards than the commoners. Consequently, the prince's distinctive mark marked him as an anomaly within the royal lineage.

Throughout his life, Yeosang had been accustomed to the constant scrutiny that came with being perceived as a defect. From what he understood, even his own parents had reacted with alarm upon witnessing the sizable red birthmark on the side of his face when he was born. In reality, the mark didn't diminish his attractiveness, but societal taboos surrounding such markings led people to overlook his overall appeal and fixate solely on the spot.

As a result, he rejected all marriage proposals, having observed the disdainful glances directed at him by potential candidates. The thought of being wedded to someone who did not genuinely appreciate him was unappealing. Besides, he loathed the constant parade of pampered girls presented to him annually.

He would prefer to remain alone for the rest of his life than be tied down to any of those brats. Having always believed that no one could ever empathise with the pain of having such a mark on their face, he was more than astonished to discover you proudly displaying your scar. What's more, you stood in stark contrast to any of the snobbish noblewomen he had met.

It was when he was evading his many princely obligations meant to prepare him for the throne, despite being fourth in line, that he unexpectedly came across you, the beautiful stranger, while seeking a brief escape in the garden. For the first time in a long while, his heart quickened as he approached you, fearing he might lose sight of your enchanting presence.

"Allow me to express our deepest respect, Your Highness. This is Lady Park, the esteemed wife of General Park. Mistress, may I present to you Prince Yeosang." As if sensing his intentions, the servant standing beside you quickly clarified your identity.

However, if she thought this revelation would dissuade the fourth prince, she was sorely mistaken as Yeosang only smiled wider. So, you were the famous Miss Jang, currently the talk of the town. Knowing that you were here only to discuss wedding arrangements, he deduced that you and the general were not yet properly wedded.

That meant not all hope was lost for him.

Your eyes widened at Eunsook's words, the realisation sinking in that you were in the presence of a prince. Without wasting another second, you performed the formal bow you had practised countless times with the head maid before visiting the palace. Greeting the prince respectfully, you maintained the poise and grace befitting your status as the general's wife, "It is my greatest honour to be in your presence, Your Highness. Forgive this humble subject for failing to recognise you."

Up close, Yeosang's admiration for you only intensified. The genuine respect you demonstrated meant more to him than you would ever know. The prince had rarely been shown sincerity, and he knew then that he was right about your purity. Unlike any other noblewoman, you didn't eye him with even the slightest hint of disgust.

She's the one.

"Please rise, Miss Jang. It is quite alright; no harm is done. If anything, it feels very refreshing not to be recognised in an instant." He extended a hand to assist you, gently lifting you from your bow. Your eyes widened in wonder, and you offered him a grateful smile, not recalling Eunsook mentioning this part of the greeting.

Meanwhile, the head maid was in a state of panic, realising that the prince seemed interested in you. He had disregarded your title as Lady Park and had taken the opportunity to be close to you. Seonghwa would not be pleased if he found out.

"I'll be honest, I have yet to meet anyone who adores flowers as much as I do. It's almost as if fate brought us together." Yeosang said, chuckling as he took in your eyes sparkling with sincere enthusiasm. You seemed innocently happy just to make a new friend.

How precious.

"Would you care to take a stroll with me, my lady? I know of a perfect spot with a view that surpasses even this one."

Eunsook's stomach sank as you agreed to his invitation. It wasn't that she blamed you for being unfaithful to her master; she knew you were simply too clueless to see through the prince's intentions. Her concern was for the potential aftermath of the situation – what would happen if the general were to learn about Yeosang's interest in you and your willingness to spend time with him.

In another part of the palace at the War and Strategy Department building, the atmosphere was the furthest thing from peaceful as the words spoken by His Majesty weighed heavily on your husband's heart, "I'm so sorry, my boy. It seems your wedding will have to wait. Relations with the neighbouring nation, Ruhon, have not been very good lately. I fear war is inevitable this time, and... we need you."

Seonghwa sank into one of the chairs, his eyes blinking rapidly as he absorbed the weight of the words just spoken, "War...? H-how serious is the situation? And why haven't I been informed about the strained relations with Ruhon?"

San, taking a seat beside him, sighed and responded, "We've been attempting peace negotiations with them for months, but an agreement seems elusive. They've been making unreasonable demands. We didn't want to burden you with any of this at first, we wanted you to focus on your new marriage. But the situation has escalated, and it appears we're left with no choice but to prepare for the worst."

The King continued with a heavy heart, "Unfortunately, despite our efforts, we haven't been able to reach an agreement with Ruhon regarding their latest demands. They are now threatening to settle matters through force. We must start preparing and strategising immediately; their attack could come at any time."

The implications of the impending conflict raced through your husband's mind, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. The realisation that he would have to lead the army into battle overshadowed the joy of his recent marriage. Just when he thought things were finally looking up for the two of you, the looming threat of war cast a dark shadow over your lives.

He pressed a hand against his head, eyes shut tight, muttering, "I could be gone for months or even years..."

"I'm sorry, Seonghwa-yah. I know this is not what you expected, especially right after your marriage. I wish we didn't have to ruin your plans like this." The King apologised with a solemn expression.

With a shake of his head, the general replied, "No, Your Majesty, I understand the gravity of the situation. My duty lies in protecting this nation. I promise I won't let anything jeopardise its safety, even if it means altering my personal plans."

Nodding, the ruler pursed his lips appreciatively, "We thank you for your dedication, General Park. We'll need you to lead our forces and devise a strategy to repel the impending threat from Ruhon."

"I'll do everything in my power to safeguard our country, my King. You have my word." Seonghwa knew that safeguarding his nation also meant keeping his own wife safe. As much as he hated it, there was no time to dwell on the disappointment of the changed plans; he needed to get to work immediately.

Transitioning into his professional demeanour, he interlocked his hands as he met the gaze of the ruler of Joseon, "When is my deployment to the war zone scheduled?"

His Majesty sighed deeply before answering him, "You have a few days to spend with your wife; the troops are still establishing the base as we speak. You can head over when it's ready. General Officer Song has also been notified and will be there to start strategising in detail with you by then."

Following the finalisation of the main details, the meeting came to a close. As the general prepared to leave, the King stopped him once more. Before he could offer yet another apology, Seonghwa intervened, "You don't owe me any apology, Your Majesty. None of this is your fault; you've done your best to protect your people. Now it's my turn to perform my duty. I... I only have one thing to ask of you while I'm gone..."

The ruler nodded, aware of the request that would follow, "I ask that you watch over my wife for me and make sure she's well protected until my return," His Majesty agreed, a hand squeezing your husband's shoulder, "Of course, my boy. You don't even have to ask."

As your husband headed towards the cherry blossom garden to find you, the unexpected sight of you with the fourth prince caught him off guard. Suppressing a sigh, he shook his head, preventing another wave of irrational jealousy from taking over. He reminded himself that, as San had assured him, you were his. Perhaps, he reasoned, you were simply making new friends.

Moreover, he recalled Prince Yeosang's firm stance on not settling down. Seonghwa reassured himself that there should be nothing more to this than platonic bonding.

Catching sight of her master approaching, Eunsook's panic began to seize her. Mentally preparing herself for the incoming wrath, she knew he wouldn't be pleased to see you spending time with another man. Turning back to you, she hoped to catch your attention, intending to warn you of his presence. However, you were too engrossed in your conversation with the prince, discussing your favourite flowers.

"I think my favourite might be the lotus flower, but that's probably because my husband has dedicated an entire pond full of it to me." The general's heart swelled with affection at your words, confirming that his trust in you was well-placed.

That's my girl.

Before the prince could respond and tell you that he could give you so much more, Seonghwa had finally arrived behind you.

"You're here, master," The head maid greeted, but he waved her off and bowed at Yeosang, "Yes, I'm here now. Thank you for keeping my wife company while I was busy, Your Highness. If there is nothing else, we will be taking our leave now."

Brightening up at your husband's presence, you stepped over to him, and he instinctively circled an arm around your back. Despite the enjoyable time with your new friend, the instant comfort of being with Seonghwa made you feel at home again. The fourth prince's eye twitched at the interaction, but he did his best to maintain a smile on his handsome face.

The elderly woman was genuinely surprised; she blinked as she tried to comprehend her master's calm demeanour. It was unexpected, especially considering how unhappy he had been when you were around Yunho and San. But she found relief in not witnessing him explode or resort to his usual passive-aggressive self.

"Ahh yes, General Park, off to make arrangements for your upcoming wedding ceremony, I presume?" The prince's tone carried a hint of smugness, almost as if he were privy to some knowledge.

Your husband's expression dimmed at the reminder; there would be no wedding plans for some time. Mustering a cordial smile, he bowed lightly, "Something along those lines, Your Highness." He had no intention of breaking the news to you in this manner, and he certainly didn't feel obligated to provide Yeosang with any explanations, so a little fabrication wouldn't hurt.

As if on cue, a few palace servants finally caught up to the prince, out of breath, "There you are, Your Highness! Please don't make our jobs any more difficult than they already are. Will you return to the library with us? The royal tutor is still waiting for you." Yeosang sighed and reluctantly turned to bid you goodbye.

"Very well then. It was nice talking to you, Miss Jang. I hope to see you again. And you, General Park." You and Seonghwa bowed politely as he left the garden with the poor servants trailing miserably behind.

The general did his best to brush aside the prince's borderline irritating behaviour, particularly the way he insisted on addressing you as Miss Jang despite your change in marital status. In the grand scheme of things, such trivialities held no importance now. Chances were slim that you would ever meet Prince Yeosang again, given the impending war and the duties that awaited your husband.

With a deep breath, he focused on the immediate task at hand – spending precious moments with you before he had to leave for the war. Gently tucking a strand of stray hair behind your ear, he offered a warm smile, "Come, my love. Let's make our way home."

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you questioned, "We're heading home already? Aren't we supposed to meet His and Her Majesty?" The head maid shared your astonishment; she was equally puzzled.

Seonghwa let out a small sigh and nodded, "Yes, there's been a change of plans. I'll explain on our way home."

As you walked back to the waiting carriage, your husband's mind raced with thoughts of how to break the news to you. You had only just overcome a traumatising ordeal and were finally getting your happily ever after. The daunting task of telling you that he would have to leave for war for an indefinite amount of time loomed over him. He wondered about your possible reactions and couldn't shake the uncertainty of whether he would return.

Despite being the great General Park, he couldn't escape the reality that, at the end of the day, he was still human.

Settling down into the vehicle, you noticed your husband staring anxiously out the window, lost in thought. Placing a hand over his, you softly called out, "Seonghwa," When he turned to meet your concerned gaze, you inquired, "What is it? What was the emergency meeting about?" He grasped your hands, squeezing them, as he prepared himself to share the news with you.

"I... I'm so sorry, my love, but our wedding ceremony will have to be postponed... indefinitely," As disappointing as that was, you wanted to know the actual reason, so you nodded and waited for him to continue, "That's because... there is an incoming war."

He didn't need to elaborate for you to grasp the situation immediately. Naturally, it meant he would have to go and fight. As the most promising general in all of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior, if it wasn't him going off to fight, then who else? Your heart clenched uncomfortably at the revelation, but you understood it was only part of his job, so you smiled reassuringly at him, "Oh... I-I understand, Seonghwa. Wh-when are you leaving then?"

Raising his brows in surprise, it took him a minute to react, "W-wait, are you not upset with any of this? I will be leaving you, and it could be for months or even years... and you're okay with it?"

You sighed shakily, the smile now dropping.

"Of course, I'm not okay with it... If only it were possible, I would like to keep you all to myself, but it's your job to defend the nation. You're General Park, and I'm so proud of you for that. You've won so many battles; I'm certain this will be another easy victory for you. As your wife, I will do my duty to safeguard our home until your return."

Just as he believed his love for you couldn't deepen further, your words proved him wrong. He felt incredibly fortunate to have such an understanding wife. He should have known better; he didn't know why he expected you to throw a tantrum. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and pushing your head into the crook of his neck, "You're right; I'm an idiot. I hope you know you're not making it any easier for me to leave you."

Despite the tears welling up in your eyes, you chuckled, trying to maintain a positive outlook amid the looming dread. Inside, you were trembling, and letting him go was the last thing you wanted. Yet, you had to face your reality, "You haven't answered me, Seonghwa. When are you leaving?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, tightening his hold around you before whispering, "In a few days, my love. A few days."

« Preview of Part 13 »

"Your Majesty, the fourth prince requests an audience with you." The Queen arched an eyebrow, surprised that her most rebellious son would willingly seek to meet her. She had anticipated him doing everything in his power to avoid her due to her constant nagging for him to settle down.

"Hm, does he now? Allow him to enter."

With a deep bow, the eunuch complied, "Yes, Your Majesty, as you wish," before exiting the Queen's chambers to fetch her son.

"The fourth prince, Your Majesty," Yeosang made a grand entrance with a half-hearted bow and greeting, "It's been a while, Mother."

Her Majesty snorted in disbelief, but it no longer surprised her. He had always been the most disobedient among all of her children. She tried to be understanding, acknowledging that his life hadn't been as easy as his other siblings due to the birthmark on his face. This understanding explained her leniency with his attitude.

"What a surprise, Yeosang. To what do I owe the pleasure, my son? If this is regarding more funds or approval for another one of your expeditions out of the palace, you can forget it. I don't want to hear it unless you're telling me you wish to get married—"

With a smirk, the prince crossed his arms over his chest, "That's exactly what I am here for, Mother. I came to tell you I have changed my mind and would agree to get married, on one condition."

The Queen immediately straightened in her seat, wondering if she had heard him wrong, "Y-you're willing to get married?" He nodded, and she widened her eyes, "Name it; what is your condition?"

"It has to be the eldest Miss Jang promised to General Park Seonghwa. It's her or nothing, Mother."

Y'all, my new and final semester of uni starts next week. Here's a heads-up; updates are probably not going to be as frequent, but I will do my best! Also, I apologise if this part felt like a filler chapter HAHA gotta let the drama build up slowly.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous — next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: You learn the identity of your new undead friend, get a mini ‘makeover’, catch your crush’s attention and bury a body while Eddie learns throwing up on the girl he’s interested in probably doesn’t display his potential as a boyfriend, but his protective nature might.

Chapter Warnings: a stinky boy, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing (on eddie’s behalf). oh yeah, and murder.

a/n: so i lied, this is actually longer than the first chapter and i accepted my fate. we’re getting to the fun stuff, though. next up: more vigilante justice, eddie lore and emerging feelings for a certain dead man walking. hope you like it!

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“C’mon, over here.” You gestured to your open doorway, watching your new zombie pal hobble up the final step and round the staircase. His movements were harsh, stiff as hell and made your bones hurt to watch for whatever reason. Every over limp was accompanied by an inhuman grunt, and you wondered if moving his limbs might actually be painful for him.

  You were never particularly skilled in the art of masking your emotions, so your eyebrows were furrowed, mouth parted and upper lip tucked up to clearly display your phantom discomfort. 

  Once he was close enough, you crossed over the threshold, standing a little in front of your bed as he wandered in, large eyes immediately raking over everything on your walls. After beckoning him further in, you moved around the filthy corpse standing in your room to close the door. 

  “Despite your deadly good looks, we can’t risk anyone seeing you. No one else can know you’re here.” You informed him, trying to stress the seriousness of the situation without seeming too controlling. While you had waited for The Zombie to struggle up the stairs, you’d determined there were three possible ways this town would react to discovering a member of the dead had risen—that only seemed to be socially acceptable and celebrated in the form of Jesus Christ:

 1.) Pitchforks and Torches.

2.) News, Military, and Government attention, which would no doubt mean you’d have to break him out of some lab.

3.) Pitchforks and Torches, News, Military, and Government attention, which would mean you’d have to save him from an angry mob before inevitably losing him once News stations picked the story up, causing subsequent Military and Government interference and the scientific study of your undead friend in some high tech/high defense lab, leaving you to figure out how to break into and get him out of it. 

  Or, he could just not leave your bedroom. A beautiful alternative.

  The Zombie didn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling forward—and banging his foot against the leg of your bed frame—to take a better look at your things. He was grunting and groaning, though this time it seemed to be a little different. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself. Or maybe to you. 

  Zombies in film seemed to be able to voice their demands for brains. Could he? Did he have the same urge or need to eat brains? How would you even feed a zombie?

  “Can you talk?” You asked, leaning back against the door, eyes on him as he had to hop in place in order to turn his body to face you, “Like, speak? With words?”

  He seemed to consider your question for a moment, eyes darting to the side.

  “Uuuuuuunnnggghhh.”

  “So, that’s a no. Do you…do you need brains? Because I’m not sure I can get you any of those—and if you think for one second that you’re gonna eat mine, you should know I fall under fight when it comes to fight or flight responses. I’m like an alley cat, I’ll fuck you up.”

  The Zombie stumbled back, rocking from side to side. It took you a moment to realize he was trying to shake his head, no.

  Interesting.

  “No brains?”

  Again, he rocked from side to side, “Uunggh-uunghh.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Your defenses dropped immediately as you played with your hair, pulling gently at a section of it, “Well, what do you eat?”

  He did the choppy shoulder raise he’d done in the livingroom earlier, “Unnhh unnhh.” 

  Your lips curled into a small, fascinated smile. Okay, you knew he had been once alive, once a human being existing on this earth with blood pulsing through his veins—and now he was dead.

  Yet, he wasn’t dead. He was dead but standing in your bedroom, amongst your girly things and not so girly things, staring at you in his grotesque form, and shrugging I dunno, like some alive person. A full blown, supernatural one-time (to your knowledge) occurrence only depicted in Sci-fi films and horrors.

  Why you? What did he want with you?

  You hadn’t realized you’d voiced the question until he hobbled back around to your bedroom wall, raising his left hand, and the only one he seemed to have, up to one of the tombstone etchings. His fingers were all sorts of fucked up, frozen in the most uncomfortable looking positions as a result of rigor mortis in whatever position he’d died.

  “What? That? It’s just an etching I made of a tombstone.”

  He craned his head around, and you tried not to be freaked out with the way his neck hadn’t turned enough with it, tapping his crooked pinky finger against the craft paper and then moved it to his chest.

  Your eyes zeroed in on the etching, trying to understand what he was attempting to tell you. 

  It was MUN’s tombstone—no, Eddie Munson’s tombstone.

  Your jaw dropped. Had to be somewhere around your feet, on the floor. Holy. Shit.

  “That’s you? You’re Eddie Munson?” It was rude, but you openly pointed at him.

  He didn’t grunt in response this time, rather, he began to cough and gag as he jerked his body around to get his hand in his dirty jeans. 

  While he did whatever it was, you took the time to take him in even further. He wore black jeans, but under his leather jacket he seemed to be wearing a discolored dress shirt that had once probably been white. You had a feeling the sneakers on his feet, while horrendously dirty, weren’t all that worn out. Dress pants were pricey, you knew that much after buying some for your father when your mother would take you to outlets and malls with her. Dress shirts were a little cheaper and new shoes were seen as a staple in big events for peoples’ lives, such as graduations, birthdays, dances, weddings and funerals. 

  You had a sneaking suspicion this lively carcass hadn’t been from this part of town when he was alive. 

  “UUUUUUNNNNGGGHHHH!” The Zombie moaned out, almost victoriously as his stiff arm stuck straight up in the air. Dangling from his curled fingers, was your mother’s pearl necklace. You’d seen it last when you’d entrusted MUN with it yesterday.

  You gasped, reaching out as he lowered it into your furled palm. 

  With the proof in your hand and his corpse before you, you knew you were speaking to Eddie Munson. He was, without a doubt, the grave you’d been running to.

  “Holy crap, you are Eddie Munson!” You gripped the pearls in your fist, eyes wide and blinking rapidly to try to make sense of it all, “You were murdered and now you’re not—I mean, you were, but you’re back from the dead, standing in my—ooh, standing pretty close actually.”

  You tried not to flinch as you became aware of just how close he’d stumbled over to you. Definitely within arms-length. He didn’t exactly stink, his flesh looked much too leathery to actually smell (you weren’t about to lean in and sniff to test the theory), but the scent of wet dirt was strong and the smell of whatever he’d spat on you earlier seemed to be lingering. 

  Zombie Eddie was in desperate need of a shower.

  “So, this is all pretty cool and bizarre—I’m a fan of both—but uhm, why are you here…? Like, in my house.”

  He slouched even further into your space, this time you did flinch a little as the most muffled whimper sounded from him. Reminded you of the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz when he couldn’t speak properly because he was all rusted up. 

  Eddie held eye contact as he struggled to grab hold of your hand and the minute he did, dirt from his skin pressing into yours, you knew what was coming.

  Because of course it would. This is something that would only happen to you.

  Shakily, Eddie tried lifting your hand and your mouth puckered, brows furrowing before you sucked your lips into your mouth as you watched him prepare to kiss your hand with his filthy, dead, dried out lips that still had bits of that green goop he’d spat up around it.

  You were a nice person—a relatively decent human being, but you weren’t that nice and you didn’t wanna have to go to the hospital on the off chance that you caught something from a corpse. Explaining that one would send you straight to the psych ward and probably end in some sort of abuse of a corpse charge, so you quickly pulled your hand out of his grasp, rubbing your fingers together to roll some of the dirt off of them.

  “Okay, okay, I see, mhm—alright. You’re here because—when I said I wished I was with you, I didn’t mean like, I wanted to have your dead body…y’know, pressed up against mine. I meant like…in the grave. Next to you. Like buried there because I’d be dead. It was a moment of intense angst—I’m nineteen and my life is in the fucking gutter. I’m surrounded by terrible people in this town and I have the rest of my life to live out this way.

  “I didn’t mean to lead you on or something, and I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to do literally anything with a corpse, other than bury it.”

  The two of you stood there, just staring at each other. He still hadn’t moved out of your space and you were still kind of leaning back, away from him, so you added, “So. Just a little recap, I wanted to be dead. Did not mean I wanted to be with you. Romantically. Together. Like a couple.”

  And then you felt a little guilty because that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Well, not with you as a cadaver.” Because you had fantasized about the person in the grave being a source of comfort to you, “Or—or, you in general. ‘Cause…’cause I didn’t know it was you given how fucked up your shit was, and I didn’t know you when you were alive.”

  God, you were messing this up. Rather than continuing your ongoing word vomit, you flashed him a tight smile.

  Finally, you got a reaction out of him. He creaked back, those little whimpering sounds coming from his lips before that same nasty ass green shit from before started leaking out from behind his eyeballs.

  You’d made him cry.

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—I just moved here a couple of months ago and you were already dead by then! I’m sure you were a lovely person and I would have liked y—y—yo—ECH!”

  You gagged, hand flying up to cover your mouth and nose as you felt the contents of your stomach start to make its way back up. While your hand was in that position, it squeezed the tip of your nose, cutting of the assault currently taking place against it.

  Whatever it was Zombie Eddie was secreting instead of his tears, stunk. It was the most putrid scent you’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. Nothing could compare to it, not literal shit, not vomit, not pasta that had been left out to cook in the sun for several weeks, nothing.

  You were sure one more sniff of it, and your nostril hairs would either shrink and curl up, or disintegrate. 

  “MOTHER OF GOD—your tears smell horrendous—I’m gonna throw u—ECH!”

  You gagged again, tears flooding your sight and you hurried over to the bathroom, gesturing for him to follow behind you.

  Chrissy had left her door to the bathroom open, so you skidded across the tile to shove it closed, desperate to make sure the scent didn’t reach the room and wouldn’t linger in there.

  She’d drive you straight to the ER to get checked out, because nothing you could possibly shit out should ever and would ever smell that bad.

  You yanked the shower curtain back from the tub, setting Chrissy’s products to the side and out of the way, “You need to bathe like two years ago, my dead guy.”

  You stepped to the side, pointing into the tub with a finger as your other hand rested on your hip like you were ordering a misbehaving child in.

  Eddie groaned, and you got the feeling that he was unimpressed with your theatrics. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t been dramatic about it. His stank tears had to be an actual biohazard and you didn’t want to think about the fact that very same biohazard had been projectile vomited onto your face a couple of minutes ago. You were so gonna scrub it raw.

  Begrudgingly, he hobbled over to your tub and struggled over the edge until he was in—his upper half slamming into the tile wall. 

  You didn’t say anything about him being fully clothed, shoes and all, because everything he wore needed a good rinse off. If not, you’d have to hose his clothes down in the yard before subjecting the dryer and washer to them.

  “There’s my soap.” You pointed out the pink bottle of pomegranate and berry scented shower gel, “And my shampoo and conditioner—those two are very expensive and a little goes a long way, so don’t waste any.”

  You eyed him for a moment, mouth twisting in consideration, “Nevermind, it’ll take half the bottles to get your hair clean, I’ll just have to replace them a little earlier than my budget expected.”

  This time, Eddie’s mouth parted rather wide as he moaned out, “UHNNNGGHH.”

  He was probably telling you to fuck off already, but you were distracted by whatever insect was currently in his mouth, on his tongue.

  “SPIT IT OUT!” You shrieked, and he aimed his head down, the large thing with too many legs falling right out to crawl around on your bathroom floor.

  You screamed as you began to stomp around, trying to crush it beneath your remaining slipper but it kept evading it! Finally, your foot flattened it with a satisfying crunch.

  The evil had been defeated. You were nearly panting, shoulders rising and falling as you calmed your breathing and another sound registered.

  Eddie was croaking now, it sounded almost like the most painful gasps someone would let out on their deathbed. You stared, puzzled for a moment before it dawned on you.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He did it again, stiff body leaning completely back on the shower tiles now.

  “Oh my god, you are! YOU DICK!” You slapped the side of his arm and then quickly yanked it back, frowning at the mud now caked to the back of your fingers. 

  “Ugh,” you tried to shake some of it off over the tub, your head shaking as well—and despite the predicament, you found the corners of your lips twitching but you refused to smile. Wouldn’t let him get that over you, “You’re gross. That better be the last living creature to come out of you, you Zombie Headbanger, take a shower.”

  You didn’t give him a chance to moan, groan or croak at you again, yanking the curtains back to shield the tub and it’s undead occupant.

  You rolled your eyes, almost fondly, and gathered too much toilet paper to wipe up the remnants of the bug and toss it in the trash. Should’ve been in a different corpse’s mouth if it wanted to live.

  “You know how to work a shower, don’t you?” You asked aloud as you approached your bathroom counter, taking notice of the bathroom mirror as you uncapped a room spray and gave your bathroom a good burst of it. The mirror had already been replaced, looked like Laura couldn’t stand to know there was something imperfect in the house—aside from you. 

  You heard the tub start to run before the shower stream took over. At least he still remembered that much.

  “You wanna listen to some music?” You asked over the loud stream of the shower.

  “Uunngh.”

  You took that as a yes and leaned over the counter to tweak the knob of the radio you and Chrissy always left on it. Immediately, a country station started playing and you quickly switched the station.

  “That’s not one of mine! Chrissy listens to Country whenever she misses her ex-boyfriend, I don’t know why.”

  You kept twisting the dial through various stations. When you hit a station midway through Disposable Heroes, you turned the knob again only for your companion to voice his outrage.

  “UUUUUUNNNGGHHHH!!!”

  “What?” You switched the station back, “You like Metallica?”

  He grunted from behind the shower curtain, and the scent of your body wash began to fill the bathroom, much to your relief. You could hear him banging around in there, probably not the easiest to wash up with a bad case of rigor mortis.

  “They’re alright, I liked Ride the Lightning, but Master of Puppets is good, too. Their last album was good, too, but it felt kind of different. Not the same without Burton.”

  Eddie made a sound of confusion, hand with the fucked up fingers reaching out to push the curtain back so he could poke his head out.

  You met his gaze through the mirror, “You don’t know?”

  He just blinked, almost owlishly. 

  Shit. He must have died before the fall of ‘86. You’d have to ask Chrissy when exactly Eddie had died.

  “The bass player, Cliff Burton? He died in ‘86. Bus accident.”

  You watched as Eddie’s gaze dropped, and the groan he let out sounded remarkably sad as he ducked back behind the curtain.

  Unsure of what to say to make him feel better, you let the radio play out the rest of the duration of Eddie’s shower and took diligent care in washing your face and brushing your teeth. Once he was done, smelling amazing and just like you, you’d had him shed his clothes for one of your nightgowns and dragged him back to your closet.

  You knew he was quite literally stiff, but he seemed extra unenthused with his choice of ensemble, so you were going to let him choose his own.

  “Alright, take your pick.” You yanked the doors of your walk-in closet (as in you could take three steps in and that's it) open and he flinched back at the amount of pink seeping out of it. When he made no move to look through his options, you selected one for him.

  An even gaudier nightgown you tried to shove in his arms. And he let you, before purposely dropping it to the ground while holding eye contact. 

  “Well, I thought you would have looked great in it.” You mumbled as he creaked down to pick it up for you. When Eddie hobbled into the closet to hang it up, you shut the doors behind him, “Pick something else and then you can come out!”

  Your closet doors didn’t lock though, so you were just banking on him assuming they did and you heard his offended zombie groaning. While you waited, listening to him no doubt bang into the walls as he struggled to dress himself, grunting and groaning, you twirled around on your desk chair.

  Eventually, the closet doors parted and you gasped at the sight of him, standing there in your lavender fluffy, oversized sweater and pair of white pajama pants with hearts all over them. He couldn’t really move his face all that much, not very expressive and yet you could somehow tell he was scowling.

  “You look like Grimace.” Was all you said, mind conjuring up Ronald McDonald’s purple monster friend.

  The closet doors were promptly slammed shut. When he emerged once more, gone was the former ensemble. Eddie was wearing a neon green skirt, a tight off the shoulder black top, and nothing else.

  You wolf whistled at his skinny, severely discolored legs.

  He stuck one out, modeling it for you and you realized he was humoring you. You laughed, eyes crinkling.

  “You tryna knock me dead, too?”

  When he nodded, you laughed again and stood up to rummage through your dresser. You found a band tee you used as a pajama top, and some black pants that looked like they might fit him. Then you spotted a red plaid flannel you had hanging on your bedroom door, waiting to be placed in the closet.

  The clothing items were shoved into his arms and you pushed him back into the closet.

  When he came out (eheheheh) again, you were practically bouncing in your seat. You’d never seen Eddie alive before, had never seen him in clothes that weren’t his burial ones, and he definitely still looked as much of a Zombie as Michael Jackson had looked in the Thriller music video, but he also looked like a young adult, and very much so in his Metal element. He was stretching your baby blue socks to their limit, but they’d have to do until you could steal some from your dad. You’d scrub his shoes tomorrow, before class.

  If Eddie were alive, he’d look…hot.

  You smiled to yourself, still taking him in as you realized you were looking at Eddie Munson.

  To show your admiration, you clapped for him, “That’ll do real well. What do you think?”

  Eddie raised his forearm and you tilted your head, confused. He followed your gaze and groaned, rolling his eyes as he realized that was the arm lacking a hand. Then, he held up his other arm, painful looking thumb finger cracking and popping until he was giving you a thumbs up. You ended up tying a scarf around the wrist without a hand, just to hide the gaping wound. 

  With the matter of his clothing solved, you moved onto his hair, sitting on the bathroom counter while he stood in front of you as you worked on detangling with a spray bottle and a legion of hair products. It took some TLC, and ignoring the hole where his ear should’ve been, but you brought his curls back to life. You were shocked to even see he had bangs, they’d been plastered to the top of his head when he was the Swamp Thing.

  They framed his eyes, looked real good on him and he seemed to enjoy the entire process, eyes slipping shut and little moans (not like that) coming from him.

  “Well, I think we’ve got you back in good shape.” You put down the comb, placing your hand on his shoulders to turn him towards the mirror, “Is this Eddie Munson?”

  You watched his gaze scan his reflection, before those eyes were on yours in the mirror. 

  “Unnnghhh.” Eddie held up his arm with the missing appendage and you nervously scratched the back of your heard.

  “Well, you see, I don’t really have any extra hands on me, at the moment. Just down to these two,” You emphasized the sentence with some jazz hands to display yours, then immediately felt guilty over still having yours so you hid them behind your back.

  Eddie groaned low, lifting his wrist to the side of his head, where his ear should have been and you made a displeased sound. 

  “Oh. Noticed that, did you?”

  His eyes narrowed and even though you had no idea what Eddie had sounded like, you could still hear him in your head, Notice my fucking ear is missing? Yeah, I did.

  “I don’t have any extras of those, either. If it’s a body part, I’m out of stock. But—who cares? Plenty of people live without them.”

  Eddie grunted, eyes narrowing even further at you.

  You winced, “Poor choice of words—the point is, no one will even notice. Because no one is going to see you.”

  Eddie’s next grunt sounded disappointed and you felt even guiltier. What were you supposed to do? You’d already made him look as relatively normal as you could, there was only so many ways you could disguise a zombie who walked oddly, communicated via moan, groan and grunt, and looked like he had a medical skin condition.

  You were about to try to comfort him when you heard the front door open and you gasped.

  “WHAT IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN?” You heard Laura cry out, and your dad shouted your name. 

  “I don’t mean to sound homophobic, but back in the closet!” You shoved him out of the bathroom and in the direction of his new hiding place. He hadn’t looked very keen as you shut the closet doors on him, but he’d have to wait for now.

  Your dad was probably having one hell of a heart attack, staring at the mess of the house, the broken window, fearful a similar situation as your mother’s assault had taken place with you as the victim.

  “I’m alright, daddy!” You reassured as you raced down the stairs to your concerned father. He was concerned alright, but not about you.

  He had Laura in one arm, who was openly distraught about the shards of her damn plates, and Chrissy, who was staring at the mess with open confusion, in the other.

  “You,” Laura spat at you with venom the moment her chilling gaze locked onto your approaching figure, “What. Did. You. Do?”

  Wow. You’d seen an actual Zombie—he was upstairs, in your bedroom closet—and still the most unbelievable thing to happen to you was your ‘family’’s ability to immediately blame you. You hadn’t expected Eddie’s corpse to be the first suspect in their head, still, they’d seen your house ransacked—as you tried to escape your friendly deceased headbanger—with you nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been at all concerned for your wellbeing. God, they sucked.

  “Me?! I didn’t do this!”

  “Then who did!?” Laura screeched back and you found yourself getting angry.

  “The guy who broke in!” You shouted back and Laura immediately rolled her eyes. You could hear your dad say both of your names to calm you down, but you were growing tired of him, too. Like Eddie, he seemed to be missing parts of his body. Noticeably, his goddamn spine.

  “Really? You expect us to believe that after last night? The smashing of the mirror, my precious moments figurines? Muffin, your daughter is out of control. She destroyed my house!”

  “Do you ever use those creepy eyeballs stuck in your skull?” You found yourself blurting out, “Does it look like any part of my body came crashing through that window?!” You pointed aggressively in the direction of the livingroom, where glass littered the floor. It was too much for just an object to have been thrown through and your body had no cuts, nothing to show from possibly jumping through it.

  “Mom, if sissy was attacked─” Chrissy tried, her her mother was having none of it.

  “Attacked? Who would want to attack her? She’s invisible, taking up space!” Laura was practically hysterical as she gathered pieces of her broken dishes, “That’s why she’s acting out, can’t you see? She’s recreating the crime scene that got her so much attention and you’re all falling for it!”

  The woman was crying, mascara smearing around her eyes as her angry glare was once more directed to you, and you found yourself shrinking and hurt at the accusations, “You need serious help. You’re crazy and a danger to us all!”

  “I think you might be mistaking me for your psyche.” You mumbled before turning your attention to your father with pleading eyes, “Daddy, there was a home invasion! I tried to call the police, but as soon as I heard him, I ran up to hide in my room.”

  “She needs help, institutional treatment.” Laura hissed into your father’s ear as as though she was the devil on his shoulder.

  “Daddy…”

  “Mom, sissy’s not a nut, we can’t send her to the looney bin!” 

  You wanted to scream. All this talk about you being insane, and there was a literal walking corpse upstairs who could disprove that. You just weren’t willing to sacrifice Eddie for yourself. 

  “Dad, I’m not crazy. Okay? Last night was just a mirror, and tonight someone broke in. There’s a huge difference between the two, I’m not crazy.” You tried to reason, desperate to not get shipped off to some mental ward. 

  Your dad appeared sympathetic, “No one is calling you crazy, sweetheart.”

  ”I did.” Laura guffawed at your father siding with you.

  “She did, I heard her.” Chrissy confirmed, frowning at her mother.

  “No, Chris. Your mother’s just upset, she’d never say something like that and mean it.” You watched with disgust as he pulled Laura into his arms. It was more than you could stomach so you stormed out of the dining room, making a retreat for your room.

  You were on your own. Your father had just proved that. Laura could say anything to you, treat you like crap, starve you and he wouldn’t ever step in, just continue being his wishy washy self. If it had been him and not your mother that night, you wouldn’t be suffering like this. 

  You’d have a loving parent. 

  You quietly shut your bedroom door once you made it in, leaning your forehead against it as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. Emotions were something you tried to embrace, but crying because of your family felt…wrong. Like something you shouldn’t have to do. 

  Wiping your face, you realized more tears would be coming. Tonight was meant for crying. So, you slipped into bed, tears leaking steadily down your temples to seep into your hair and pillows. You were so hurt and you wanted to sob, but you were conscious of the dead guy in your closet. What if he heard you?

  With a stuttering breath, you peered over at the closet to see the doors barely open and Eddie peaking out at you.

  You rolled onto your side, back facing him to hide your tear stained face and weakness as you thought about how loud you and Laura had been downstairs. He’d probably heard what she said about you.

  It was one thing to be treated the way you were, it felt extra pathetic to have someone bear witness to it. 

  The closet doors closed quietly behind you and just as you did every night, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing sleep to come so you could be done with the day and move onto the next, just solemnly trying to make it through life. 

  Maybe you and Eddie had more in common than you originally thought. Maybe you were a zombie, too.

  When your alarm blared from your nightstand, rousing you from sleep—the only peace you ever seemed to get—you stumbled out of bed almost blindly, eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion as you yanked your closet doors open.

  A garment was immediately thrown over your head, covering your face and you remembered your current house guest.

  With a sigh, you yanked the clothing off your head, balled it up and threw it back at Eddie, “Dude, I have to get dressed. I have class today.”

  Eddie grumbled, un-balling the little black dress and holding it up for you. It was the dress Chrissy had bought on sale and then given to you when she came to the conclusion that black washed her out and she looked much better in pastels.

  “I’m not wearing that, not so much my style.” You tried to push past Eddie, but he remained planted where he stood, grunting as he held the dress out to you once more.

  “Do I look like Madonna to you?” You asked, pushing the dress back towards him. Eddie groaned and threw the dress at your face again, closing the closet doors while you yanked it off your head, again.

  “We’re gonna have to have a conversation about your communication skills later.” You called through the door and fiddled with the dress, “Can I get a sweater or something to go along with this?”

  The closet doors were quickly opened and a new article of clothing was flung over your head before they closed. You’d just pulled the sweater off of your head when the doors opened once more and a hat was tossed at you.

  “Dang—anything else?”

  “Uuunggh.” Eddie moaned through the door, and you tried to pull at them but he must have been holding them shut from the otherside. 

  Resigned to your fate, you swapped out your pajamas for the outfit Eddie had apparently selected for you. He would navigate to the black clothing. You were unsure of it until you saw yourself in the mirror. Normally, your clothes weren't all that revealing. Form fitting—maybe, but never as attention drawing as this. You just figured you weren’t the type that could pull it off.

  You were wrong. 

  The dress hugged your figure in the most complimentary way. It was short, stopped mid-thigh, but it didn’t look awkward or make you feel like your vagina would be on display if you bent over, thanks to the lace of the bottom hem flaring out.

  For once, the girl in the mirror looked stunning. And when you did your makeup, taking your time to smoke a dark blue shadow out along your lash line and eyelids, she looked drop dead gorgeous. 

  You’d walked onto Campus with your head high, body rocking and a new found confidence that hadn’t quite made it’s way to the surface before. The heads turning in your direction were new and you found you kind of liked it, their gazes weren’t uninterested, scowls or looks of annoyance. They were appreciative, even from the straight girls!

  “Okay, am I seeing things or does your sister look drop dead gorgeous?” Tina asked, as Chrissy and her friends stood admiring you from the bench they were occupying.

  “You’ve got perfect 20/20 vision. She’d be unstoppable if she kept the confidence. Could probably even win pageants. Do you think she’d join cheer?”

  Eddie fiddled with one of your shoes, tugging on a shoestring in boredom. He was sat on the floor of your closet, light from your bedroom windows creeping in through the cracks of the doors. 

  You’d lectured him before you left for class, told him he had to stay put. Laura wouldn’t be leaving for her nurses’ conference until the afternoon, so she’d be lingering in the house and she’d have a cow if she stumbled upon him.

  So you’d pointed and lectured until he was creaking and groaning his compliance. 

  He’d stayed in the closet while you got dressed and, after you’d made sure Chrissy had already left, watched you do your makeup in the mirror while you chatted about the classes you had to take for the day.

  Eddie had listened, to the best of his ability with one ear, and stared at your reflection as the heavy sense of longing settled on his chest, crushing the heart that no longer beat but desperately wished to. For you.

  Death was not like he’d ever expected. No heaven, no hell. He was just…dead. Maybe it’d been the way he died. Perhaps, the suddenness of it, his lack of peace in life while living, or the fact that he was murdered, was the reason he saw neither heaven nor hell. He’d just been in a dark place. Literally, no source of light, no out of body experience, just darkness. For a while, it was tolerable, he’d heard Wayne’s voice comforting him. Telling him how much he loved him, how much he missed him. Then, nothing.

  Nothing for so long. Quiet. Silence, not at all a peaceful kind. He no longer existed in life and yet the silence was still somehow smothering. 

  Until one day, he wasn’t alone anymore. 

  You found him. 

  Talked to him all the time, laid with him, kept him company and said such wonderful things. Eddie had no idea how much he’d appreciate hearing about current news events as a dead guy.

  And while you kept him from feeling lonely, there was always a sadness to your presence. Broke his heart when you told him out of place you felt because he just wanted to claw his way out of his grave and tell you that no, you weren’t odd, you weren’t weird, you weren’t out of place. You were unique. You were the type of person he would have admired if he had been alive, different but not desperate to fit in. Just longed to be accepted.

  He understood the sentiment all too well. 

  Eddie understood you. And you had no idea who he was, had voiced as much to him, couldn’t come up with his identity because some fuckers had defaced his tombstone—of course they would—and yet, you knew exactly who Eddie was. Knew him to his very core.

  When you visited him, Eddie felt warm. He had no idea he could even feel things, other than the constant loneliness that had plagued him after Wayne’s presence disappeared, and before you.

  With you, it felt like you were right there with him, beside him. A warmth, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for some much needed comforting. How ironic that he finally found someone who could finally see him, and he couldn’t do anything about it because he was dead. 

  And when you had come to Eddie that fateful night, the sadness he always noticed about you was heavier. A new despair attached, one that had him desperate to get to you, comfort you as you’d done for him.

  I wish I was with you.

  You’d said it. Had said what Eddie had wanted to hear you say for so long, even before he was dead. Before he knew you. It had always been you he was waiting for. He was beginning to understand the universe was bigger than anything he could have imagined (and yeah, maybe universal studios was the first thing that came to mind when he was alive), was positive the heartache he went through was necessary if it led him to you. Eddie could have done without the murder—there was no undoing that. Except, there kind of was. And it happened with a strike of lightning.

  Unlike the many times he wanted to before, he’d actually been able to open his eyes, break out of his coffin and dig his way out of his own grave. 

  Eddie had had a major breakdown, freaking out at just about everything regarding returning from the dead after he’d broken through that final layer of thick terrain, minutely softened by some light rain from the storm. He had first tried to go home, only to find himself face to face with an unfamiliar mobile home set up on Wayne’s lot. A peek into the window revealed a couple. 

  No sign of his uncle.

  It filled him with a sense of panic and he’d needed something—someone to stabilize him, keep him grounded. 

  Eddie was sure he was tied to you. Not only because of the unique bond you shared, he also felt a pull to you. Just some intense instinct. 

  He knew where to go after.

  Your welcome hadn’t exactly been as warm as the grave hangouts—he didn’t blame you, his vocal chords were useless to him for the time being, meaning he couldn’t explain himself as you shrieked and flung dishes at him (and he was impressed) and fled from him. He could make sounds, so Eddie suspected he had the ability to talk, just lacked the healthy cords due to years of non-use to them, what with him being dead and all. 

  Eddie’s case was definitely not helped when he’d broken your fall—he was freaking the fuck out about you dangling from the roof like that—and you’d pressed on him stomache when you landed on him. 

  He hadn’t meant to…y’know…spit all that up on you, it just happened and he immediately wanted to die right after, just roll right back into his grave, he was so fucking embarrassed.

  Projectile vomited on the girl you’re tryna romance, Munson. Nice.

  Then, you hadn’t been attacking him, tugging him along to your room instead where you immediately told him you were just using dark humor to cope and didn’t actually want to be with him.

  Probably something you should have clarified for him before he returned from the dead to be with you, but whatever. He wasn’t mad about it. Just a little bit heartbroken. Definitely didn’t stink up your closet with a little cry sesh while you were at college. Totally didn’t smell like Cherry Bubbles (how is that a scent?) from the bathroom spray he’d had to limp out to grab in an effort to hide the scent of his rotting body tears.

  Now, he was just confused. Had no idea what the hell to do. Thinking on it, it had obviously been stupid as fuck to think you’d want him when he was literally a dead body. Couldn’t exactly stroll down the street, holding his one hand without garnering a few odd looks and arrests. 

  So, what could he do now? Sit in the closet and think about everything. Try to remember everything about his last moments alive—and when it had him wheezing in the closet, cowering in the dark, he’d switched to thinking about his uncle. Concerned. Wondering what had happened to him. When that subject, too, began to promise a panic attack—he switched to thinking about you, and oh how he ached in a different way. You were right there, in reach for him and yet the two of you couldn’t be. 

  The most frustrating part is how good the two of you could be for each other, and Eddie literally couldn’t talk you into giving it a chance, couldn’t even flirt with you. 

  He had some mad rizz when given the opportunity, a body that wasn’t stiff as hell and a fucking voice. Eddie knew he’d be able to get you all shy and cute, similar to how you were when you talked about what you thought he was like back at the cemetery. 

  FUCK. What the hell? Life wasn’t fair to him, death wasn’t fair to him, now life as some zombie wasn’t gonna be fair to him?

  What kind of fucked up existance was this?!

  All because of some stupid fucking lightning that—

  Lightning. Eddie perked up, theories racing through him. If it had brought him back from the dead, maybe it could do more. Before he could think on it further, he heard your door open and froze. 

  It was too soon for you to be home. You said you’d be back in the afternoon, after Laura had left. 

  Eddie heard a scoff.

  “How has it gotten even worse in here?” Laura mumbled to herself. 

  Eddie scowled, as he heard her footsteps enter your room, could hear her padding around. 

  The fuck was she doing in here?

  It was a risk, Eddie pushed the closet door open, just enough to give him a crack to peep through. 

  Your stepmom was in some sort of jazzercise outfit—ugh, of course she did jazzercise. The blonde woman was currently rummaging through your drawers, looking amongst your belongings. 

  She was invading your privacy.

  If Eddie had blood flowing through his veins, it would have been boiling. 

  He’d heard what she said last night, how she berated you. Accusing you of using your mother’s murder to seek attention.

  And the other members of your family weren’t speaking up nearly enough to defend you. He was surprised that Chrissy—small town for Cunningham to be the Chrissy you’d been telling him about—even tried to defend you but she should have been putting her mother in her place. She hadn’t come up to check on you, either. 

  Eddie had a few things he wished he could say to Laura Cunningham, tell her exactly where she could shove her stupid figurines and verbal abuse. 

  If she was searching for something, Laura didn’t find it. She slammed one of your drawers shut, eyed your sketches pinned to your wall with disgust before speed walking out of your room. When she passed the closet, Eddie took notice of the headphones over her ears, could hear whatever she was listening to, Walkman probably set to the loudest volume.

  Eddie’s mouth chipped up into a smirk that kind of hurt his face. He opened the closet door fully, stumbling out to poked his head out of your bedroom doorway just in time to see your stepmom disappear down the stairs.

  Eddie followed, steps loud and uneven. Laura didn’t notice his presence, too engrossed in whatever she was listening to and occupied with her own ego. Looked to be cleaning up the place before her little trip. 

  Laura disappeared into the kitchen, well out of view of the living room so Eddie stumbled in, eyeing the pristine setting. The place looked impeccable, spotless, antiques everywhere that Eddie just knew the old bat was dying to have people ask about so she could name drop and be as haughty as possible.

  Eddie could wreck all of this in no time, and he would if he didn’t know she’d immediately blame you for it. He still felt guilty you’d been chewed out for the mess he made. 

  Bitch.

  Eddie heard her returning, so he hid behind the wall, waiting a few moments before he peered around it and across the foyer, into the dinning room where she was seated after having fixed herself something. Laura still had the headphones on, so Eddie took that as the all clear to continue exploring.

  He spotted a family portrait hung over the fireplace, a seemingly picture perfect family was displayed. A man he assumed to be your father loomed over Laura and Chrissy, one hand on each of their shoulders. Eddie barely glanced at them before you pulled all of his attention. You were stunning, light catching the highlights of your face, lips parted just enough to encourage a pout. Your hair was wild in comparison to the other women in the portrait—Eddie loved it. You looked like you belonged on an album cover for some rock band, even with the sorrow swirling around in your eyes. Your unwavering melancholic stare pinned Eddie, and he could feel himself getting protective over you again. You must have been miserable that day. 

  See, if he had been around, he could have easily cheered you up. Snuck over on the day in question. Laura would have hated his fucking guts—Eddie wouldn’t have minded being the boyfriend your stepmom didn’t approve of.  Horsing around behind the little photo shoot set up to get you smiling, get those pretty eyes of yours twinkling before whisking you the hell out of there once they got the money shot.

  He rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he turned away from the past that never was. Couldn’t have (he’d already been dead), should have (but couldn’t) and would have. In a heartbeat.

  His posture worsened under the weight of his own despair, sulking with it until he spotted an acoustic guitar, tucked in the corner and resting on a stand.

  “Mm?” Eddie tilted his head in curiosity before making his way over. It was difficult to do, but he managed to settle the neck of it in the crook of the arm lacking a hand, and strummed with his stiff fingers, pleased to find that it was already tuned. 

  He plucked a couple more chords, stopping once to adjust a peg. Then the doorbell rang and Eddie’s eyes widened. He fumbled to place the guitar back on its stand and plaster himself against the wall as Laura got up to answer it, having apparently been able to hear it ring but not his guitar playing.

  “Yes?” Laura asked as she opened the door, impatience soaking through her tone.

  “Carpet cleaning.” A man’s voice stated, sounding bored beyond measure. 

  “Carpet Cleaning? My carpet is so clean you can lick the fibers.” God, was your stepmom ever not insufferable? The carpet cleaner salesman seemed to be thinking the same thing and Eddie figured he had to be annoyed with his work day already to say what he did next.

  “I doubt the one downstairs is.” The salesman snorted and Eddie would have snickered if he could as he heard Laura let out an affronted and embarrassed gasp. 

  “EXCUSE ME?!” 

  The guy must have turned tail because Laura was stepping out after him, yelling as she closed the front door behind her. 

  Eddie eyed the bowl she’d been eating from, curiosity getting the better of him as he stumbled over to inspect it. Spaghetti.

  He shouldn’t….But what was the point of being a dead corpse if he couldn’t use dead guy powers for good?

  It only took a little effort, Eddie successfully gagged and heaved until a warm that had been lurking in his stomach came out, dropping out of his mouth to wiggle around in Laura’s lunch. Eddie watched as it disappeared between the noodles and sauce, satisfaction filling him.

  Served the hag right.

  With justice served, Eddie made his way back upstairs to your room. He’d just made it to your doorway when he heard Laura return. He waited a few more moments for her to sit down, settle herself, twirl some spaghetti around her fork and put it in her mouth.

  Eddie was beginning to think the worm had made its way to the very bottom of the bowl when Laura let out a high pitched scream. 

  That one was for you.

  Eddie smirked and walked back into your room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  You had two classes for the day, back to back so as to not have to stay on campus longer than necessary, and both classes were pleasant. There hadn’t been any change in the materials covered or anything, eyes just kept attempting to discreetly take you in, which you caught from your peripheral vision. 

  While you enjoyed the new attention your attire and the way you carried yourself brought you, you quickly realized it wasn’t something you needed. What you needed was to feel good about yourself and for once in your life, you did. 

  You were absolutely giddy, and you felt so badass somehow, was this what Chrissy and her friends felt like all the time? Maybe putting effort into your appearance wasn’t just a load of crap dispelled onto ugly people by the conventionally attractive. 

  Regardless, you were strutting your way to the library, eager to turn in some books, make Steve Harrington’s jaw drop, then run back home to Eddie so you could thank him profusely for not having fugly taste.

  Once you made it to the library, you noticed no one was at the front desk. Steve must have been putting some books back on their shelves.

  No problem, more time to prepare yourself, maybe run through some possible conversations so you wouldn’t go stupid at the sight of his gorgeous face.

  Your bag hit the ground with a thud, thanks to the weight of the hardcovers within it and you bent down at the waist to rummage through it, placing one heavy hardcover book, two heavy hardcover books, three heavy hardco—

  “You got the rest of the library in there, Mary Poppins?”

  You snapped back up, whipping around just in time to see Steve’s gaze rise from where your ass had been unknowingly on display, to meet your eyes, his honey brown ones swirling with warmth.

  Oh, god. Just play it cool.

  “Just some tampons and some chips.” 

  Leave. Walk out. Save face.

  “No chocolate for that time of the month?” He asked, leaning up against the desk, rather than going around it to handle your returns. Steve wanted to talk to you. He’d been eyeing your ass and now he was making small talk. 

  You were going for it. 

  “Craving a different kind of sweet thing right now.” You leaned in, just as he had at the tailor’s yesterday. You were laying it on thick, sure. It worked though. Steve leaned in, too, and you clocked the tick of his eyebrow. Interest. Holy shit—things were finally looking up for you.

  “I’ve got some starbursts in my car,” Chrissy chirped, materializing out of thin air to stand in front of you and Steve. 

  You almost knocked down the books you’d stacked on the desk, cursing under your breath. “Geez, Chrissy.”

  “Hi.” She grinned at you, her darling crooked teeth gleaming before she was fixing Steve with a stern look, “Sorry, I need to talk to my sister. Preferably, alone.”

  “I’m not exactly gonna run to the gossip columns about anything.” He mused, exchanging an amused look with you but you couldn’t really hear anything going on around you because Steve Harrington was flashing you smiles around Chrissy, your pretty and practically perfect step-sister, and not her. You’d entered another dimension and you did not want to leave. All you could do was smile back at him, like some infatuated idiot while your fingers reached up to pick at your lower lip.

  “That may be so, but I think it’s best if she hangs around a good crowd.” Somehow, Chrissy had wedged herself between you and Steve, standing protectively in front of you with her arms crossed. She was about as intimidating as a pomeranian. Still, it was endearing to have someone act like they cared about you.

  “And the library is just full of Neanderthals, is that what you’re implying?” Steve leaned both elbows back on the desk, gesturing out to the few students—most meek in appearance—occupying the area.

  “I was thinking more of creepy librarians, high school peakers, and former playboys.” Chrissy shot back and you nudged her, hissing out her name. The protective thing was nice, just not when she was trying to scare away the man you’d be making your boyfriend.

  “Golden coming from you, of all people, your royal highness, the Queen of Hawkins High; former head cheerleader and Miss Hawkins of ‘87, but not ‘88 and I’m pretty sure Heather Holloway won again this year, so looks like we both don’t have a lot going on, do we?” Steve was smug, shooting you a wink that made your heart melt and drip down your sternum.

  Steam was practically blowing out of Chrissy’s ears, “Shoo fly, don’t bother us.” 

  Steve rolled his eyes before they fixed on you, past Chrissy’s head, “I’ll see you later okay? Thanks for bringing your books back on time.”

  You giggled, still staring at him as Chrissy began to tug you away, “Until the next time, I guess?”

  Steve held your stare, smirk softening into a smile, “I’ll be waiting.”

  It was easy for Chrissy to guide you out after that. You were floating. Light as a feather and high on life.

  “You are the only girl I know who can survive a spiked drink and still want to have anything to do with the guy.” Chrissy sighed in exasperation as the two of you loitered by the drinking fountain, “There’s like at least four other guys here who would date you, sissy! Don’t waste your time on that one.”

  Okay. Only four other guys? Ouch. “Steve didn’t spike it. Carol did.”

  “And she’s always following him around like some sad little mutt. Better to just stay away.”

  You scowled, mood souring. One afternoon. You couldn’t have just one afternoon where you felt good about yourself without someone bringing you down. You knew Chrissy meant well, but in that moment, she was pissing you off. 

  She seemed to pick up on the shift of your attitude, changing the subject, “After practice, I’m gonna go out tonight. Some of the girls want to go bowling and then have a little kick back. Cover for me?”

  How very much like Chrissy to insult you in the name of protectiveness, and then ask you for a favor. She still cared more about you than your own flesh and blood, so, “I thought your mom was gonna be away for a few days in Akron.”

  “She is, but daddy’s not. And he’s way too overprotective, I can’t even sneeze without him bursting into my room to ask me what’s wrong. He always wants to know where I’m going, argues with me when I try to go out late—it’s so annoying.”

  All you could think about were the many times you’d said goodbye to him as you left the house at whatever hour you wanted while he mumbled a bye and read whatever magazine he was reading or watched TV. 

  You tried to consider it a good thing that he let you be so independent, yet something in you ached, sure he simply didn't care enough for you. Not like he did Chrissy, and he’d known you longer, all your life. 

  “Oh. Uhm, I think he works late today, anyway. I’ll cover if he asks, but I’m sure you’re good.”

  Chrissy perked up, pulling you into a tight hug, “You are the best! I knew I was gonna love having you as a sister. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  Chrissy didn’t wait for your reply, practically bouncing down the hallway and you sighed. 

  At least you’d have some peace and quiet, maybe you could get Eddie into better shape too, and you’d get to tell him about your day!

  With your classes done, you made your way to the parking lot, where Mystery waited for you. 

  You slid the back door of the Volkswagen open, tossing your bag in before sliding the door shut and climbing into the driver's seat of the bus. Then you started your mantras and manifestations, gripping the key with a sweaty palm before you were sticking it into the ignition and turning it with bated breath.

  She roared to life and you sagged back in your seat, bones like jelly knowing you piece of crap bus was still kicking.

  It was the biggest lemon of a car you’d ever seen, carried around jugs of coolant in the back because it had to be refilled almost every time you started it.

  But it was yours.

  When you pulled up to the house to see Laura’s car was gone, you felt yet another weight lifted off your shoulders. You were completely free to be you. Snatching your bag from the back, you made a run for your house, quickly unlocking the door before stampeding up the stairs. 

  You burst into your bedroom, chest heaving to find it in normal condition and no Eddie around. Frowning, you tossed your bag on the floor, beside your bed, and made your way over to the closet, yanking the doors open.

  Eddie peered up at you from his position on the floor, rocking an old feather boa of yours.

  “Eddie, I told you you were free to roam once Laura left. You don’t have to stay cramped in there all day when no one is around.” You offered him a hand and helped hoist him when you took it, “You wouldn’t believe the day I had—you’ve got stellar taste, by the way.”

  “Uuungh?”

  You reached under your bed, snatching an old Easter basket out that you used to hide your snacks. After you settled on the bed, you patted the spot next to you, and Eddie hobbled his way over, grunting as he settled onto the cushy comforter.

  “I know I was grumpy this morning. I’m sorry, you were right. The dress was a hit!” You exclaimed, ripping a bag of sour gummy worms open. The pink end was clenched between your teeth as you bit it off, bag of sweet and sour treats held out to Eddie as an offering.

  Eddie reached into the bag, attempting to crook his fingers enough to hook one. You watched the leathery skin between his brows pull—if you had blinked, you would have missed it—as he struggled to free his hand from the bag, shaking it a little until you pinched the bottom firmly, allowing him to pull it out.

  “Unngh.” He grunted in thanks. 

  As Eddie moved onto the challenge of getting the gummy worm to his mouth, you went back to telling him about your day, “I mean, god—all I did was put on a little dress and I felt kind of invincible. Not to mention Steve Harrington seemed to like it.”

  Eddie froze, gummy worm hanging out of his mouth, “Mm?”

  “Steve Harrington, did’ ya know him?” You asked, steamrolling right on as if you hadn’t, “Talk about winning the genetic pool—that man is so fine. We talked a little at that party I told you about, and before I did drugs, he was being so nice to me. And I didn’t look as hot as I do now, so I was hoping for a reaction out of him—BOY did I get it.”

  You let out a dreamy sigh, recalling the way Steve had leaned into your straightforward flirting.

  “He’s kind, funny, and sometimes he even has good book recommendations. He’s like the total package and I think he might actually like me.”

  You paused your ranting to look over at Eddie. If you didn’t already know his face was stuck like that, you would have thought he was scowling. 

  “You got a little…” Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, your thumb lifted the gummy worm hanging out of his mouth the rest of the way up. Eddie’s cracked lips parted, just enough for you to press the rest of it in, then he chewed slowly, face not even twitching to clue you in on his emotions. 

  “There.” Your hand dropped back into your lap as you perked up, “I wanna assume he’s better than the other horndogs who popped woodies just because I wore a dress and flashed some leg.”

  You stuck out your leg to demonstrate, the dress slipping even further up your thigh as you held it out, smooth (mostly, she was a little prickly but no one would notice unless they were stroking it) skin on display under some fishnet stockings.

  Eddie let out a pained sounding groan, which you figured meant he was agreeing with you about the rest of the male population. 

  “Yeah. Well, I think everything’s gonna work out perfectly. Even if Chrissy keeps butting into my love life like some fairy chastity-mother. God—I just, I’ve never been close to actually having something I wanted before, you know?”

  Eddie whined from behind closed lips, holding up the wrist that lacked his hand. 

  “What?” You asked, glancing down at the scarf wrapped around it. Eddie reached up with his fucked up fingers to point at where his ear should have been and it clicked for you, “Eddie, I can’t pull an extra hand and ear outta my ass. I wish I could, but I don’t have spare human parts lying around like pieces of a vacuum.”

  Eddie whined again and this time you could actually see his lips pulling down, frowning.

  “I told you I wish I could, but I can’t! I don't know how to get people parts and I don’t exactly have the black market on speed dial. Besides—you’re fine like this, I mean what are you able to do as walking dead guy anyways?”

  “MUUUUNGGGHHHH!” Eddie groaned, loud and obviously upset as he dramatically flung himself back on the bed hard enough to shake it.

  “Hey!” You snapped, fearful for your bed frame, “Chill out dude—don’t act all coked out!”

  He turned his head, face miserable but before you could continue your scolding, you heard your name called upstairs.

  Laura.

  “SHIT, hide!” Eddie stumbled up and barely even had the chance to turn around before you shoved him into your closet, shutting the doors.

  You’d barely stepped away when Laura burst into your room. She was dressed in her nurse uniform, complete with the stupid hat, yet there was something off with her. Her skin had a grayish tint to it, she looked clammy, eyes and nostrils red with irritation and her mascara was running. Laura Cunningham looked just as terrible on the outside as she was inside.

  And for once, she scared you.

  “Laura! I thought you were headed out of town for your trip.” Laura’s stare was even colder than you’d ever seen it, unnaturally icy blue eyes both vacant and filled with a deranged sort of rage. You expected her pupils to turn into slits any second, it would be the last physical trait she’d need to resemble a demon.

  Stepmother from hell, indeed.

  “Mmm, I’m sure you were looking forward to that,” Her voice was soft, almost gentle and nothing about it was kind. It was as if to coax you forward to her, lull you into a sense of ease before striking. You were reminded of the anglerfish, and the glow of their fin ray. They used it to draw unsuspecting prey towards the light before they were devoured. 

  You took a small step back. She took one forward.

  “I suppose I’ll just have to attend next year, I’ll be skipping the conference this year. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to do much learning or networking with my head plastered in a toilet bowl. I seem to have come down with something. Do you know what my symptoms are?” She asked, voice so sugary sweet and thick. 

  “Uhm. I-I’ve been on my period. Maybe we synced?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

  Laura’s lips pressed into a thin, cruel smile, “No. I haven’t been throwing up with a cramping stomach because of my period. I’ve been vomiting non-stop because a little slut under my roof is trying to kill me. And do you know who that psychotic little tramp is?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth parting in shock. Did your stepmother just call you a slut?

  “ANSWER ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!” She bellowed, making you jump and gasp. You’d never heard Laura raise her voice like that, it dropped several octaves and she was staring at you with nothing but pure hatred burning in her eyes.

  All you could do was shake your head. You were terrified, but you weren’t about to play her game. You were neither a slut nor a tramp and it was clear, regardless of what you’d say or do, she’d be unleashing her wrath upon you.

  Laura chuckled without humor, “You really are just a stupid, insignificant bitch, aren’t you? I open up my home to you and you do nothing but cause trouble every time I so much as turn my head. I have been nothing but kind to you, even after you wrecked my home. I’ve been an angel. But putting worms in my food?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I didn’t touch your food, I just got home from classes. An—And I didn’t ask for any of this, I didn’t ask to move here.” You could see tears beginning to blur your vision, welling up and threatening to cascade over your lower lashes. They didn’t. You refused to cry in front of her. Refused to give her that satisfaction. 

  “Oh, please.” Laura scoffed, looking at you in bewilderment, “Did you want to stay in the house where your mother was sliced and diced? Was that a comfort for you?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant, I didn't want to start my life over in some town full of ignorant people.” You gritted out, hand clenching the bag of gummy worms.

  “Ignorant people, and yet—you still don’t fit it in. Telling isn’t it?”

  Despite your fear, you felt your own rage starting to build within you and before you could stop yourself, you spat out “What do you care? You never wanted me here. You just wanted my dad here in your clutches and you knew that wouldn’t happen if we hadn’t moved. He would have never chosen you over my mom.”

  Laura sneered, “It’s not much of a choice when she’s rotting in some coffin, six feet under, is it? I’m sure she’s relieved to be done with you and all the disgusting things you do for attention.”

  “Shut up!” You demanded, seething now as the devil incarnate dared to speak about your mother in such a disrespectful manner. Laura was only able to sleep in a bed alongside your father—wear that tacky ring on her finger because your mother had tragically lost her life. 

  Laura wouldn’t be but a mosquito in the room if your mother were alive.

  You hadn’t been expecting the strike that came next, hadn’t been prepared for Laura to pull her arm back and swing it forward, cracking your cheek so hard you almost spun. You yelped, hand reaching up to press against the skin of your cheek, feeling it throb and sting under your touch.

  She fucking hit you. You gaped at her in disbelief and Laura didn’t look remotely apologetic.

  “I am beyond tired of you and I am not going to wait until some maniac guts me to be rid of you. Especially when you’re already a threat to my life. No. I won’t stand for it, so I took it upon myself to begin your admittance to Hawkins National Psychiatric Center.

  Your blood ran cold as images of the unsettling ‘center’ flooded your mind. You’d heard of it before, horror stories told amongst your peers. A psych ward. And Laura Cunningham was going to have you committed. 

  “No, please. No.” You whispered, voice laced with fear.

  “It’s for the good of everyone,” Laura began, leering over you. “You don’t belong here. Your place is locked up, solitary confinement where no one will have to see you ever aga—

  THUNK.

  Laura let out the smallest of gasps.

  You watched the unsettling blue of her eyes give away to whites and red veins as they rolled to the back of her head, her body going limp as she tipped forward and fell face first to the ground. Your mouth dropped open as you watched her collapse, gurgling and twitching on the ground for just a few seconds before she went still. Then your gaze flitted to Eddie, who stood tall with your old sewing machine clutched in his hand, a corner stained red. 

  Your eyes flashed back down to Laura, and they widened in size when the pink of your carpet began to turn a bright red, blood seeping out of her skull to pool around her head and soak into the floor.

  Eddie made a grunt that sounded more so like a noise of satisfaction and tossed the sewing machine back into the closet. 

  You heard them before you saw them. Eddie had found the small pair of scissors included with your sewing machine and clipped them in the air before he bent down. You could only watch, stunned silent and with morbid curiosity as Eddie snipped your stepmother’s ear off.

  “Oh, god…” You finally found your voice, eyes darting anywhere else to avoid seeing the skin severed. You breathing became labored, chest rising and falling rapidly as you staved off a panic attack while your undead friend cut the ear from Laura’s dead body.

  Eddie held it up in triumph, like it was some sort of medal rather than a human ear.

  “Wha─? Why─?” You couldn’t even finish a sentence and Eddie must have noticed how distraught you were. He rose from the floor, stepping over Laura’s body to pull you into his arms and despite what had just occurred, you returned the embrace; arm slipping under his to clutch at the back of his shoulder, desperate for the comfort he was offering. His hand rubbed circles over your back and you leaned your cheek against Eddie’s shoulder, stare never once leaving Laura’s body as you whimpered.

  When he pulled back—just enough to be able to look at your face—he held the ear up, towards you.

  You knew exactly what he was asking you to do.

  ”Eddie…I—I can’t. I can’t do that…We have to bury the body first.” You placed a hand on his chest, leaning into him again as you both turned your heads to stare at someone who was no longer a problem for you. For the first time, in a very long time, you felt safe.

  Eddie had rescued you.

Moving the body was surprisingly easy. You’d expected Eddie’s limbs to be fragile for some reason, a foolish thought considering he’d so easily crashed through your window that first night. Eddie actually possessed a great deal of strength, easily lifting Laura’s body—wrapped in sheets—and carrying her downstairs. 

  Movement seemed to be getting easier for him, limbs that had been out of use for years returning to life and unstiffening just as he had. If his arms could support Laura’s body with no problem, you wondered what had happened to his missing hand in the first place.

  You made sure the coast was clear before you pulled your bus up the driveway and Eddie placed the body in the back. It obviously hadn’t been strapped down, so while you drove to the cemetery, Laura’s body was rolling around, banging against the sides of the Volkswagen. Eddie just turned up the music you’d been playing.

  The cemetery was vacant, thanks to the relatively early time of the day. Most people still hadn’t gotten off of work yet, which made this easy for you and Eddie. It wasn’t the most respectful thing to do—you were just out of options. A grave had already been dug out, for some poor recently deceased soul (not Laura, she could go to hell), so, the two of you had quite literally dumped Laura’s body into the empty hole and covered her with a layer of dirt so she’d go unnoticed when they’d lower the coffin, of whoever’s grave this was, into it. 

  After the deed was done, the two of you stood side-by-side, staring into it. 

  “Is death comforting?” You asked, breaking the silence. Eddie didn’t answer, didn’t even grunt, so you turned your head to the side to find him already staring at you. 

  He shook his head. 

  “Good. C’mon.” You gave the burial plot, now and forever housing Laura, an extremely and aggressively disrespectful finger, and tugged Eddie back to the bus. He went willingly after kicking some more dirt into it.

  When the two of you returned home—after you briefly stopped for ice cream while Eddie waited in the bus—you’d gotten straight to work; Eddie’s head in your lap as you sewed the ear into place.

  While you threaded the needle through the skin, Eddie waited patiently, thumb playing with your fishnets. Once you knotted the string and used your teeth to nip off the excess, you admired your work. 

  Good stitching, secure and it wouldn’t fall off. The coloring was a bit odd, skin appearing obviously more lively than Eddie’s dull gray-green tint. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Done.” You announced, hands resting on the mattress at your sides. Slowly, Eddie rose to a sitting position, head shifting around to face you, “What’s the survey say? Ear any good? Hear anything?”

  Those big, deep brown, baby cow eyes of his looked despondent as he shook his head. 

  “Mm-mm.”

  You sighed, feeling a bit despondent yourself. He’d saved you from a life of medicated compliance and padded walls, and you couldn’t even get the human ear you’d stitched to the side of his head to work. You felt guilty knowing you couldn’t make him whole again, as he so desperately wanted to be. Couldn’t be his blue fairy.

  You reached your fingers up, tips brushing alongside the soft outer edge of his ear. How funny that an appendage that had once belonged to the nastiest person you’d ever encountered, a woman who hated your very existence, was now endearing because it was a part of the guy before you. Your friend. Your protector. What had taken place that afternoon would no doubt lead to trouble, but you knew Eddie hadn’t acted out of malice. 

  He’d simply wanted to help you. And—okay, yes, he got an ear out of it, but it didn’t work. What mattered is that you weren’t alone anymore. You had someone that actually cared about you. Enough to kill for you, even. 

  It felt…like you mattered to someone.

  “I’m sorry.” You mumbled in disappointment, “I really did think it was gonna work, too. Guess Laura’s still useless, even when she’s dead.”

  Your hand dropped back into your lap as the two of you simultaneously heaved out sighs. 

  “At least you have something there, you know?” You tried to see the positive side, keep Eddie happy, “Like nipples with boob jobs. The dial doesn’t work but you can still turn the knob.” 

  He made a humming sound, contemplating the analogy, weighing it as his head tilted this way and that way. 

  “Maybe it’ll catch up with you later, like the rest of your body. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting better at moving around.” You teased, nudging your shoulder playfully against his.

  Eddie stiffened and you thought you might have offended him, “I mean—I’m not paying super duper close attention or anything, I just like to watch you—It’s not like I see a living dead guy every day.”

  “Unngh.” Eddie seemed to pay no attention to your word vomiting, pointing at a sharpie on your nightstand. 

  “What? This?” You reached over and snagged it, offering it to him. He carefully took it from your hands, his hardened fingers brushing over your soft ones, and awkwardly popped the cap off with his thumb. 

  Your eyebrows shot up as Eddie began doodling on the skin of your hand near your thumb and index finger. 

  “Why did I think you were illiterate?” You mused aloud and Eddie briefly stopped to glare at you and grunted, unamused, “You can’t blame me, you could have picked up a pen and paper this entire time, hell—I have an Etch A Sketch you could have been using instead of making me decipher your ‘uuunnngghhss’.” You did your best impression of his zombie grunting and he put the sharpie between his thighs so he could flick the cap at you. 

  Like an expert dodger, you lifted your hand just in time for it to bounce off your palm as you giggled and he went back to finishing up his little doodle. 

  A lightning bolt. 

  Your lips pulled into a soft smile as you admired it, something warm pooling in your belly. It was cute and there was something very attractive to you about walking around with Eddie’s little sketch on you.

  An Eddie Was Here, if you will.

  And then it hit you. Lightning.

  “OH.”

  Eddie grunted, pleased that you’d picked up on what he was trying to convey.

  “But how are we gonna…” You trailed off, brows furrowing as a montage of the two of you played in your head; sticking a metal rod in the ground with Eddie holding onto it as you waited for some approaching storm to electrocute him. The only problem was the weather forecast for the week predicted nothing but sunshine and clear, starry nights. No electrocution for the week. Unless…. “Oh my god.”

  You turned to Eddie, grinning almost maniacally, “I’m a genius.”

  Forty minutes later, you found yourself staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror Chrissy had set up inside the tan shack. It was softly aglow with pink and warm hued fairy lights, and neon blue coming from the tanning bed. One of her beauty pageant crowns was placed on your head, and you had to admit, it did make you feel pretty. It looked good on you, too. Huh. Maybe you should have done pageants, could have won one, even.

  Sparks flew from the tanning bed, some feet away, with Eddie inside of it. 

  It was the next best thing to actually being struck by lightning. Well, it was either the tanning bed or electrocuting him in the small pool with a plugged in radio, but you didn’t want to get wet.

  You grabbed a little fairy wand, no doubt part of one of Chrissy’s pageant costumes—probably Galinda—and posed with it, pleased with your reflection. Your hair was frizzy and it somehow added to your allure. 

  You could rock with this confidence thing for a while if it made you not hate yourself like usual. 

  The tanning bed’s buzzing whirled down until it was silent, save for a few random sparks, and the bed opened up, top lifting to reveal Eddie laying in a cloud of smoke, wearing those little goggles you’d insisted on to protect those pretty eyes of his.

  You got up to check on him, tapping his chest with the end of the wand, “You baked enough?”

  He groaned as he sat up and dinged his head on the top of the tanning bed and you flinched, dropping the wand.

  “Ooh, yeah, I’ve been there too.”

  Grabbing onto his hand, you helped pull him out of the tanning bed to sit on the edge and sat beside him, pushing the goggles up his large forehead and pinning away his bangs.

  Eddie didn’t say anything, just blinked sluggishly. He was baked alright, that voltage was no joke.

  “Eddie,” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Can you hear me in there?”

  No reaction. 

  “EDDIE MUNSON, CAN YOU HEAR ANYTHING I AM SAYING?!”

  To your amazement, Eddie flinched away from your shrieking, and with his face turned to you, you noticed he looked different, skin more…skin like. Not the leather you’d noticed before. He still hadn’t answered you, so you kept going, “IS THAT A YES—YEAH?”

  Eddie groaned out, face affronted as you continued to scream at him and your shrieking turned into screams of excitement. Eddie joined you in yelling (well, he tried, it was very loud groaning) when it dawned on him.

  It worked. Eddie Munsons had two working ears.

  “Oh my god!” You flung yourself at him and immediately jolted away when you got shocked. Eddie reached out for you, resting his hand on your shoulder, “No, it’s okay, that was on me. I got too excited, but oh my god! Eddie! It worked! We got you a working ear!” 

  You were beaming, felt like you’d cracked the secret of life. And it looked like Eddie was trying to smile at you, corners of his lips pulled up just a tad. 

  The two of you looked ridiculous, you with your frizzy hair, crown and fairy wand, and Eddie with his electrocuted hairdo, tanning goggles making his bangs look insane and a slightly discolored (actually, it was looking more like his skin tone now, bizarre) ear, with one earring and one hand.

  You glanced down at your arm; specifically, at Eddie’s arm resting against it. The one that lacked a hand.

  Well, you’d already started. 

  “I think I know someone who can give you a hand.”

[signedkoko]

(separate) lucifer and striker with an s/o who fell from the heavens headcanons!! the more closer they get, the more they realize their s/o was one of the angels on the council but didn’t condone the extermination — of which, they were casted down to hell.

Lucifer | Striker X Reader [Romantic]

In which they know you are a fallen angel, but not the extent to which you protected hell. Reader is genderneutral.

Lucifer could sense your presence quite fast

But only because you weren't an exterminator—no, you were something far stronger

It pained him to see a new angel cast down, the first since he was, bloodied and caught in the fiery pit you'd have to call home

He understood you must have been an angel that came along after him, though, because he didn't recognize you

Either way, Lucifer offered you a place to stay and let you adjust to life in hell through his lens—a safe house where demons couldn't bother you as much

Of course, he also wanted to make sure the news of your existence didn't get out

He could only imagine the kinds of people who might want to get their hands on a fresh angel

Even though he was cast down himself, Lucifer is very flattered that you know him and that you speak so highly of him

You quickly worm your way into his heart, and he loves talking to you a lot about his past and all the things he kept buried within him

Even down here, you still seemed happy, although a tad uneasy

He won't pressure you for your backstory too much, but with his knowledge of heaven he is able to gather that you were at least a mid-ranking angel on the council

Your position exactly, he wasn't sure

He only found out after he spoke about his daughter's plan with the hotel

" Thats a wonderful idea! They may cast me down for demanding an end to extermination, but I won't let them ruin your daughters redemption plans. "

You dropped it so casually that he almost missed it, swooning at how supportive of Charlie you were

Actually chokes

Please give him a moment to catch his breath because, wait, really?

That explains a lot, at least

Of course, heaven would cast down the most beautiful of angels just for being kind to even the most damned beings

That same anger within him roars back to life, both for you being shut down and for how he, too, was treated in heaven

He'd make sure your life was far better here, no matter what it took

Being a fallen angel is already an extremely worrisome background for Striker, especially following his hate for royalty

Not that a fallen angel is royalty, but the power dynamic is hard for him to get over, as guilty as he feels now for holding it against you

When you first met, he saved you from another bounty hunter

Saved is the wrong word

He stole you so he could get a prize himself

But it all backfired when you were just so kind and curious, and offering you up to some terrible people didn't feel like the right move

Striker told himself he'd hold onto you until he knew the true value of an angel, but that may have just been him stalling for time

Either way, your charm worked wonders, and now he was stuck with the most attention-grabbing partner in all of hell

Oh well, he knew he could protect you

While he was curious about your life in heaven, Striker was extremely used to not asking questions about others past

But the more he knew, the more he wanted to know

Every few months, you'd tell a story that revealed a new interesting piece of information, things that made him wonder what you had to have done to be so harshly cast down

It all made sense when he puzzled it together one afternoon, when you were particularly fond of your past memories

" I hope Em isn't in trouble too. "

" Why so? "

" Well, she also thought killing demons was pretty bad... "

" Of course, hun. "

As usual he nods along with you before he freezes and jumps out of his chair

" Hol on now, what? "

Striker is able to puzzle things together fast, and he's not sure if he's more pissed at the angels above you or if he's surprised you felt that way

He'd always assumed no angels thought good of demons, but this changed things

Next extermination, he wants to have a hand at capturing one of those winged fuckers and seeing if he can force some more out of them

Author's Note - DEVIL FINALLY I GOT TO UR REQ!!! More Striker content, love to see it- and ofc Lucifer, who I know is about to be eaten up by every person in this god forsaken community. Thank you for requesting 🖤

[hard-core-super-star]

why we ever [K.Bishop]

pairing: vampire!kate bishop x reader

summary: forgiveness comes in many different shapes. thankfully, you and kate find the one that works best for both of you.

warnings: SMUT -> MINORS DNI! [porn with a lot of feelings and some plot; blood and hot vampire fangs; fingersucking {with blood involved}; kate loves neck kisses; kate's a MASSIVE tease and cocky about it; dashes of praise and a smidge of degradation; cunnilingus {kate receiving}; fingering {kate receiving}; so much playful arguing; r gets left high and dry but shhhh]

wordcount: 3.9k

a/n: WOULD YOU BELIEVE IT? T'S FINALLY HERE! i'm not saying this the last part of this wonderful AU but...it might be. i absolutely fell in love with vampire!kate though AND this AU so maybe i'll do more with it later. for now, this is the end...until i decide to get over myself and post it as a full story on both wattpad and ao3. anyway, thank you for coming along with me on this special ride, i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did <3 [oh and friendly reminder that my commissions are open :) ]

part one | part two | part three |

* * * * * * *

If you had a nickel for every time you had a heated make-out session with Kate Bishop while she was slightly injured, you would have two nickels. It’s not a lot but you’re pretty sure the universe is plotting against you. Not to do anything particularly harmful to you…unless making out with a ridiculously hot and complicated vampire is harmful.

Although, considering your current situation, maybe it is harmful.

You’re honestly starting to believe the archer is going to be the death of you. And not because she’s a blood-sucker but because she’s the best kisser you’ve ever met. 

With the softest wandering hands. 

Hands that are currently gripping your waist so hard, you’re pretty sure there’ll be bruises there tomorrow…not that you’d mind. It wouldn’t be the worst reminder of her you’ve ever had.

“y/n…” Her voice startles you despite how soft it is.

You hum in response, pulling back just enough to be able to make eye contact with her. “Yeah?”

“Come here.” Her tone leaves no room for argument and yet you can’t resist the urge to get under her skin just a bit.

“So you can bleed out all over my bed?” You question while doing your best to ignore the irony in your words. “I’m gonna pass.”

She stares at you with her eyes slightly narrowed and you wait for the annoyed remark that’s sure to follow. Except it doesn’t come and you’re suddenly reminded you don’t know nearly enough about Kate’s weird vampire powers. All you really know is her fangs are hot as hell and she’s surprisingly strong.

But she’s apparently also freakishly fast because all you do is blink and suddenly she’s laying you down on your bed and hovering over you with that same old smirk. “You were saying?”

“You’re insufferable.” Despite your words, you wrap your arms around her and pull her closer, savoring the warmth of her body against yours.

It’s embarrassing to admit how much you’ve missed this. How much you’ve missed her. How despite all the anger and the snark, you instantly melt into her again. As if she didn’t ruin your life without a care in the world.

You know it’s a lot more complicated than that and yet a part of you still holds on to that. To how quickly she would have let you go if you hadn’t been accidentally bonded to each other.

“Why are you thinking so much?” She’s clearly trying to tease you but there’s a hint of concern in her voice that’s hard to hide.

“One of us has to and it’s clearly not going to be you.”

The pout that crosses her face is equal parts ridiculous and adorable. “You’re so mean.”

“Shut up and kiss me, idiot.”

It’s unusual but Kate actually listens to you for once. Although maybe that’s just because kissing you seems to be the only thing on her mind since she showed up outside your window looking as beautiful as ever.

Either way, you kiss her back eagerly, allowing your hands to travel up and tangle in her hair. The urge to tug on the silky locks rises up inside you all at once and before you know it, you’re pulling on her hair. 

The noise she lets out at the sensation borders on sinful and it’s impossible to hide your satisfied smile. You pull a little harder, just enough to detach her from your lips and take in the way her eyes flutter closed.

You’re about to tease her for her borderline desperate reactions when you notice how pale and shaky she is. The overwhelming wave of desire that had been building inside of you instantly dies down as concern takes over.

“Kate,” you say. “You’re shaking.”

She ignores your words in favor of kissing you again and even though you want to yell at her for being irresponsible, you can’t resist kissing her back. You can’t even begin to imagine how many times you’ve thought about this very moment…except in your dreams, she wasn’t shaking like a stubborn leaf clinging to a tree branch.

Despite her strength, it’s obvious she’s having a hard time holding herself above you. She tries to distract you by pulling away from your lips and attaching herself to your neck. It’s a pretty effective move yet all it does is remind you of the question you’ve been meaning to ask since she mentioned she hadn’t bitten anyone in a while.

You tilt your head back just enough to give her better access to your neck. You barely manage to hold back a whimper as her teeth graze your skin. “When, um, was the last time you…fed?”

Her silence is enough of an answer.

“Uh…quite a while,” she murmurs, practically hiding her face in your neck. “I had a replacement for a while but I ran out a few days ago.”

You’re not an expert in this field but your common sense is strong enough to tell you that can’t be good. And suddenly the infection she’s fighting off makes perfect sense.

“A few days? And then you decided to go get your ass kicked?”

“Wrong,” she replies with a playful glare. “I didn’t get my ass kicked, I…was just a little slower than usual.”

“A little?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” she grumbles.

You chuckle in response before an idea hits you. It seems obvious and yet your heart skips a beat while you think it over. The memory of Kate’s fangs on your neck still lingers in your mind…along with the intense flood of pleasure it brought.

“Kate.” The shakiness of your voice is more than enough to get her attention. “You could…you know, from me.”

Her eyes widen slightly but she can’t quite hide the excited smile that starts to pull at her lips. “You want me to bite you?”

You want to roll your eyes at her for using such a casual word for something that’s anything but casual. You both know it’s a lot more than her simply “biting” you and maybe, deep down, a part of you hopes it’ll be an unspoken promise that she won’t let you go again. That things have changed and this time, you’ll actually get it right.

“Sure, why not,” you respond, trying to act like your heart isn’t racing in your chest. “It’s better than you passing out on top of me.”

The sound of her laugh helps to soothe the majority of your remaining nervousness. “That was uncalled for.”

Your hands drift down to the base of her neck and you pull her down against you once more. She seems to understand your unspoken words because she presses a few feather-light kisses to your neck as one of her hands grips your waist. 

“I think you’ve gotten brattier since the last time I saw you,” she murmurs almost absent-mindedly. 

“I wonder why.” The only reason you’re able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes is the flash of pleasure that shoots down your spine from the sensation of her fangs grazing your neck.

You don’t have to be looking at her to know she’s wearing that smug grin again, the one that says she knows exactly how to wind you up like you’re her favorite toy. “Sounds like someone wants to be put in their place…”

Her words steal a whimper from you despite your attempts at staying somewhat stoic. It’s an act that hasn’t worked for you at all but you’re set on being just as stubborn as her until she admits to being an absolute idiot. It seems she’d rather make you fall apart under her than allow herself to admit that right now, though.

Thankfully, you have a fool-proof strategy to get on her nerves and get what you want from her.

“Stop stalling and just bite me, Katherine.”

Your heart nearly stops as you listen to the rumble that builds up in Kate’s throat. It’s barely a growl but it’s close enough to one to leave you stunned…and maybe more than a little aroused.

Or maybe more than just a little considering her response.

“Oh, I see,” she says, her voice dropping in both volume and pitch. “You’re not a brat at all. You’re just a needy little thing, aren’t you? You just can’t help yourself.”

You want nothing more than to deny her claim but of course, she can’t make it easy on you. Instead of letting you reply, she waits for you to open your mouth and then she strikes. 

The soft grazing of her fangs against the side of your neck turns into a hard bite in an instant, leaving you breathless and holding onto her for dear life. 

Even though you had been waiting for her to do it, the sharp, stinging sensation catches you completely off-guard. No amount of good memory could have helped you remember what it feels like to have a vampire feed from you.

It’s a particular kind of pain that brings a rush to your system. Especially to the growing heat between your legs.

The seconds stretch out into endless, blissful, minutes of you holding onto Kate while she drains you dry. Or as dry as she can without making you pass out. You’re not exactly sure how she knows when to stop, all you know is the room starts spinning and the strength in your arms starts disappearing when she pulls away from you. 

You stare up at her with half-closed eyes, barely suppressing the gasp that threatens to escape you at the sight of her. Her messy hair frames her face perfectly enough to make the dark stains of blood that coat her mouth evident under the moonlight. Maybe you should find the whole thing terrifying but you can’t. Not when she’s smiling brighter than all the stars in the sky outside.

It’s like you can visibly see the strength coming back to her. The dark circles under her eyes disappear in almost an instant and the color returns to her face, finally allowing her cheeks to take on a rosy hue. You want to call her out for obviously downplaying how badly she had been doing but you can’t seem to put your thoughts into words.

Kate, despite her insistence that she’s not a mind reader, reassures you before you can even freak out. “Give yourself a second, I um…might have drank a lot.”

At least that explains your sudden yet overwhelming exhaustion.

You hum in response, the sound turning into a chuckle once you catch sight of the apologetic smile on her face. You can’t stop yourself from finding it cute.

She lays back down but this time next to you, propping her head up with her elbow and keeping her free arm wrapped around your waist. Even though she’s technically still holding you close to her, you instantly miss the feeling of having her on top of you.

You’d rather not admit how many nights you’ve fallen asleep to the thought of you and her intertwined like this. 

“Hey, princess.” Her soft words make you turn your head to the side so you can look at her. “…can you say something so I know you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Katie,” you mumble. Despite your attempt to reassure her, you’re a bit startled by how tired you sound…and how needy you still are.

Her hand mindlessly draws shapes on your stomach, her fingers “accidentally” slipping under the hem of your shirt. “Sorry about drinking so much, I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”

“I told you,” you reply with a playful glare. “It’s a miracle you didn’t pass out."

She rolls her eyes but her fingers don’t stop their careful exploring. “Right back at you. Not everyone can handle being drained like that.”

You know what she means and yet your mind drifts to other, much more pleasurable, contexts. Even though you’d only spent one night tangled up with her, feeling her muscles under your hands and hearing her whispers in your ear, you’ve spent almost every night since then fantasizing about her. 

No amount of frustration can take away your desire for her. That’s probably the only thing you’re certain of at this point.

Kate notices your wandering thoughts and allows her fingers to wander just as much. Her fingers trail up your stomach until they reach the edge of your bra. She pauses there, acting like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.

The way she’s looking at you does little to soothe your growing need but you’re too captivated to even try to look away. You’ve needed this, needed her, for far longer than you’ve ever let yourself admit. 

“Everything okay, baby?” Her tone makes it more than clear that she’s toying with you. 

“Shut up.” Even though you do your best to sound annoyed by her teasing, your words end up coming out a tad too whiny to be effective.

She not so subtly moves her hand again until she’s practically groping your chest. “You’re such a brat.”

“And you’re not?” 

She grumbles in response, clearly unable to act like she’s not a massive, stubborn, brat. Your victory is short lived, though, since her touches become firmer and your body reacts immediately. 

You arch into her touch and earn a low chuckle from her. “And here I was thinking you were tired.”

“You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Watch your mouth, princess.” She pinches your nipple over the thin fabric of your bra, a grin spreading across her face as she hears your gasp.

You want to push her buttons just to see her reaction but it’s slowly becoming clear to you that you need more than just her teasing touches. The blood that still stains her lips only serves to drive you further into desperation. 

She catches you staring, the grin on her face turning into a smirk that borders on predatory. You half-expect her to kiss you and rub your curiosity about the taste of your own blood in your face but she takes a different approach. 

Her hand leaves your body, much to your dismay, and she keeps her eyes locked on yours as she brings her fingers to the blood-stained corner of her mouth. You really shouldn’t be finding it so arousing and yet here you are, walls clenching around nothing but pure air.

That damn smirk doesn’t fade off her face for a second as she brings her fingers toward your mouth. There’s an unspoken question in the air that she doesn’t get a chance to ask since your lips part instantly for her. You don’t even have to think about it, you simply do it and your eyes practically roll into the back of your head from the feeling.

“There you go, princess,” she whispers. “I think I like you better like this.”

All you can do is hum in response which only further fuels her sudden need for dominance over you. As much as you love arguing and pushing her, you can’t deny how good it feels to have her like this again. 

Completely in control but so oblivious to it. 

She silently admires you while you suck her fingers, moving her fingers back and forth the slightest bit just to watch the pleasure that blooms across your features. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she’s thinking about and you can’t deny how badly you hope she’ll make her thoughts a reality.

Her fingers slide out far too quickly for your liking but she doesn't give you a chance to complain. “You’re sure you’re okay? We don’t have to keep going, you know?”

“I know,” you reply, ignoring the way your heart skips a beat. “But I’m kicking you out if you leave me like this.”

“That’s fair,” she says with a chuckle. “I think we’re still wearing too many clothes, though.”

“We finally agree on something.” 

Your hands reach out for her before you can stop them and she thankfully understands your intentions. She climbs back on top of you in an instant, straddling your lap and allowing you to lift her shirt over her head. 

It takes no time for you to get lost in the feeling of her muscles under your fingertips. Of the way her muscles tense up beneath your touch and her stomach clenches with every sharp intake of breath. It’s far more addicting than you ever would have thought.

Nothing could ever distract you from the main event, though and you practically vibrate with excitement as Kate reaches back to unclasp her bra. If she notices your barely suppressed desperation to feel her against you, she doesn’t point it out. Instead, she grabs your wrists and moves your hands onto her chest.

The visual of her throwing her head back while you eagerly play with her breasts is almost enough to send you tumbling into an orgasm but you barely manage to keep yourself at bay. You can’t stop yourself from wondering why you ever let the brunette push you away when things feel so right with her.

“Fuck,” Kate groans. “I missed this.”

“Just this?” you ask, lightly tugging on her hardened nipples just to watch her tremble.

“You know what I mean.” You relish the breathy tone that coats her voice.

Your response doesn’t come in words, mainly because you know talking back will only serve to distract both of you, and instead you drag your hands down her body again. Your fingers mess with the button on her jeans while you watch the way her chest rises up and down with each breath. 

“Come on, Katie, you’ve left me waiting long enough.”

She wastes no time jumping into action at your words. You merely lean back and watch while she shimmies out of her jeans and underwear, barely suppressing a teasing comment once you catch sight of the ruined garments.

“Was this what you wanted, baby?” She asks, her voice low and full that suggestive tint she loves so much.

"Shut up," you reply as your hands land on her strong thighs, rubbing random patterns onto her skin.

You expect her to complain about your "brattiness" but she's apparently far too worked up for that. Instead, she moves far faster than your eyes can even comprehend until she's hovering over your face.

Her sharp eyes stare down at you, her intentions more than clear as she waits for a reaction. You don't quite give her what she wants, though. Your reaction doesn't come in the form of words or even moans, it comes in you tilting your head back and gripping her thighs so hard that your nails leave little imprints on her skin.

The gasp she lets out is enough of a reward for you and you gently guide her down until your mouth finally meets her drenched cunt. You're not sure who moans louder when your tongue starts exploring her folds.

"Holy shit-"

There's a comment on the tip of your tongue that you don't get the chance to make since she grinds her hips down and effectively steals all your thoughts away. You keep one hand on her thigh while the other one moves to her mound, your fingers tracing a teasing path down her skin.

You allow your fingers to linger there, pulling in just the right way until her swollen clit gets revealed to your eager mouth. Your lips instantly wrap around it and the sound she makes borders so close to a whine that you can't help but feel incredibly proud of yourself.

She'd never admit it but you have her completely wrapped around your finger. Maybe that's why she loves arguing with you so much. It's a frankly juvenile habit that simply serves to hide the multitude of feelings she's spent so long running away from.

"I was wrong," she suddenly speaks up. "I like you much better like this. Such a good girl, letting me use your mouth like this."

Her words draw out a long moan from you. The vibration makes her hips shake in a borderline desperate way and you can't hold yourself back any longer. You need to make her fall apart for you. To see and feel the truth she tried to hide by pushing you away.

Your fingers wander once more and your eyes practically roll into the back of your head as you feel her walls greedily sucking them in. She's so wet that you're able to slip in two at the same time, feeling her clench around them every time you push in deeper.

"y/n!" One of her hands flies down to grip onto your head. She tries to push you further into her wetness but her movements are too sloppy to successfully move you.

It takes you less than a second to figure out what she wants, though, and you happily oblige.

Your tongue swirls around her clit as your fingers speed up, curling just enough every time you thrust them back inside her pussy. You're not sure what's more addicting, the sinful sounds she lets out with zero remorse, the fluttering of her walls around your fingers, or the constant bucking of her hips.

You're drowning in her and you've never been happier.

"Fuck, don't stop, princess. You're doing so good."

The soft praise is all the encouragement you need to double your efforts. It's almost impossible to tell who's more desperate for her orgasm but you seem to somehow meet in the middle.

You keep up your fast pace, your focus bouncing back and forth between the sound of her moans and the way your fingers easily slip in and out of her. All it takes is one particularly harsh suck for Kate to fall apart for you.

You're mesmerized as you watch, and feel, her orgasm rip through her body. You don't dare stop your motions even as her body trembles above you, her mouth falling open into a silent scream that leaves you breathless. The fluttering of her walls is addictive but you slip your fingers out of her entrance and quickly replace them with your tongue, eagerly drinking up every ounce of her pleasure.

You could easily spend hours lost in the essence of her and the addictive taste of her arousal. She quickly grows too sensitive and, even though you'd love nothing more than to keep going, gently tugs your hair until she's able to get you to detach yourself from her cunt.

You're sure you must look like a mess, your lips and chin wet and covered in her slick, but Kate doesn't care. She doesn't care about anything besides the fact that you're here. You're real. You're hers.

Despite her clear exhaustion, she manages to maneuver herself until she's lying on top of you, her face buried into the side of your neck.

"You're either hungry again or very sleepy," you say with a teasing grin the brunette doesn't see.

"The second one," she mutters.

You'd love nothing more than to complain and remind her you still haven't had a single orgasm but she looks far too adorable for you to do that. Plus, she's a creature of the night, you have no doubt she'll be waking you up in a few hours, telling you how badly she craves the taste of you.

Your arms wrap around her right as you feel her smirk against your skin. She places a few open-mouthed kisses there before speaking again. "Don't worry, I didn't forget about you."

You know her words are meant to be passionate, even arousing, but they strike a different chord within you. They end up being comforting.

Reassuring.

Both of you had messed up badly but here you were. Together despite everything.

Maybe, just maybe, you don't regret falling for Kate Bishop.

But you'd rather not tell her that.

[ellecdc]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLBnwGM5/

Hi there again! I saw this tiktok and it immediately made me think of the boys. Do you think you could write something with Sirius or Remus coming home drunk and just being completely drunken lover boys and just r trying to hold back their laughs but also blushing and completely over taken by adoration of their boy. Hahah any way hope you have an amazing day!

omg babes this is so funny and cute. and I clearly didn't read your request carefully enough because you asked for Sirius or Remus but I gave you both 🫢 terribly sorry, please do forgive me. side note: I'm so pissed because I was going to tag this one poly!marauders fic that had the same premise and James comes home going "I hope she does wake up I missed her so much I think I'm going to throw up" all in the same breath and Sirius just abandons him and Moony in the kitchen to snuggle their girl and I can't find it! I actually scoured all my faves master lists to try to find it for you and I can't 😭 update!: a few followers did some sleuthing and found it, it's this fic by @luveline!!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader when the boys come home drunk [and in love]

CW: mentions of drinking and drunkeness

You woke to the feeling of the bed dipping gently once, and then much less gently a second time.

“Pads, for fuck’s- Hi dovey.” Remus began hissing at Sirius before you opened your eyes to see him lying before you.

“Oh! Is she up now?” Sirius said approximately three decibels louder than necessary as he threw his heavy arm over your waist and roughly pulled you into his chest.

“Missed you s’much.” He slurred as he shoved his face into your neck. 

“Mm, was boy’s night fun?” You asked through a stretch, sleep causing your words to tumble inelegantly out of your mouth.

“No.” Sirius harrumphed quickly as Remus moved a clumsy yet gentle hand to the side of your face.

“It was fun.” He conceded, earning him an indignant “was not” from your neck.

“Why didn’t you have fun, Sirius?”

Sirius scoffed as if you had asked a particularly ridiculous question. “Uhm, because my best girl wasn’t there?” He muttered into your hair, pulling you impossibly further into his chest.

“You’re gonna squash her, Sirius.” Remus admonished.

“Fine. Roll over babydoll.” Sirius ordered, pulling his arms away only to paw at your shoulder in an attempt to encourage you onto your other side.

You weren’t awake enough for this.

“Siri.” You whined petulantly. “What time is it?”

“Almost three.” Remus answered readily.

“Roll over.” Sirius asked again.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I wanna see your- your beautiful face.” Even through his slurring and hiccups, he still managed to be an incorrigible flirt. 

“No, leave her. I’m looking at her right now.” Remus argued. You had to smother a laugh at how un-Remus-like he sounded when drunk, and made a mental note to tell him in the morning how petulant he was just to be rewarded with that beautiful blush you knew he’d wear. 

“Tough; you’ll just have to look at me.” Sirius countered.

“I had to look at you all night!”

“Had to? Just what is- is that s’posed to mean, Moons?”

“Sirius, knock it - ouch!” Remus reached over you to return a mean pinch to Sirius’ side, causing an all out war to break out between the two.

“Fuckin’ hell.” You muttered as you extricated yourself from the bed. You barely made it down the hall before you heard a painful sounding thump and footsteps chasing you.

“Dovey! Wait!” Remus called, a little more out of breath than the few feet from your bedroom really called for. “You can’t go into the kitchen.”

You felt your face scrunch up in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because Remus broke a glass!” Sirius called, limping over from the bedroom.

“Squealer.” Remus muttered at Sirius as he teetered slightly into the wall beside him. “M’sorry dove. I dropped it in the- in the sink and will clean it tomorrow when, uhm…”

“When the world’s not so spinny anymore.” Sirius finished for him, nodding sagely at his own decree.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” You asked, looking carefully at his hands for any signs of blood.

“That’s so nice of you to ask.” He whispered in awe, allowing you to manipulate his hands in yours. 

“Don’t act so surprised, Moony.” Sirius slurred. “She’s literally the nicest girl in the world.”

“She really is.” Remus agreed. 

You blushed furiously and continued into the kitchen, mindful of any potential broken glass on the floor - though you were happy to note that it did appear all damage was contained within the sink - to grab three bottles of water from the fridge.

“I actually love her so much.” You heard Sirius whisper to Remus from around the corner.

“Me too.” Remus whispered back. 

“I am so in love it’s actually a little bit embarrassing.”

“Me too.” Remus agreed again.

“Do you think she loves us as much?”

“Impossible.”

“Yeah I don’t think so either.”

“Well that’s not fair.” You interrupted as you rounded the corner again. “No one asked for my input.”

“Sorry, dollface. It’s just, I’m so far gone for you and Remus here is a certified simp so I already know it’s im- impossible for you to love us nearly as much.”

“It’s not a competition, Siri.” You admonished lovingly, handing him a bottle of water before passing one to Remus. 

“You got these for us?” Remus whispered, sounding alarmingly close to tears. You chuckled at him and touched his cheek. 

“‘Course I did, handsome.”

He shook his head as he stared at you in awe. “No; I definitely love you the most.”

“You do not!” Sirius argued quickly.

“It’s not a competition!” You reiterated.

“Fine.” They chorused as they followed you obediently to the bedroom. 

“But if it was, I’d win.” Sirius proclaimed as he fell face first into the mattress. 

Remus snorted before chugging almost half the bottle of water and dribbling some onto his sleep shirt. 

“Did you break the glass trying to get a drink, bubs?” You asked him as you took the water bottle from him to recap it and he fought to catch his breath.

“Yeah.” He admitted looking terribly shamefaced. “I gave up on having water after that.”

You smiled and kissed his forehead before climbing into bed to situate yourself between the two boys.

You pressed your back into Remus in order to face Sirius who was already out cold and snoring lightly.

“You should’ve seen him tonight.” Remus started through a yawn. “Some girl tried hitting on him and he started screaming and asked me to ‘take him home to the most beautiful girl’.”

You held your hand to your mouth afraid that your beaming smile would somehow wake up Sirius for being entirely too bright.

“Yeah? What’d you do?”

You could tell Remus was nearly asleep when he finally answered you, sleep dragging out the syllables as he whispered them into your hair. 

“I brought him home to you.”