#and before you ask no i did not even remotely try to find the best clips of any of these i just took whichever one i found first

[teachmetokill]

they are having way too much fun with those allegations [ x x x ]

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

  “Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around. 

  Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

  “I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.” 

  “Wha’?”

  “Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

  Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

  “Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair. 

  While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him. 

  Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him. 

  The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention. 

  Someone. 

  Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side. 

  Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

  He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

  Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

  They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 

  Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough. 

  Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie. 

  He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

  He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

  Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

  And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

  The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

  Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

  With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

  “It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

  If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

  Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

  NOW, 1989

  “Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

  “Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

  You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

  Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand. 

  When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

  Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

  You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

  Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying. 

  You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job. 

  You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan. 

  So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

  Your mother was murdered.

  Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

  Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional. 

  The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

  Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

  And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery. 

  Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself. 

  You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

  You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

  Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace. 

  The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

  Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells. 

  He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting. 

  So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

  When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead. 

  “Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

  It was a little odd, but you did. 

  When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

  “I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

  “I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

  Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

  The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

  You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him. 

  You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

  You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

  “Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

  You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

  “Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

  But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

  You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

  What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

  “YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring. 

  “He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

  You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

  “Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

  “Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

  You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

  You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.” 

  Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

  Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss. 

  “I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

  And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

  You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked. 

  “I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

  “Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.” 

  You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

  Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

  Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

  “It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

  You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that. 

  “That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.” 

  Didn’t feel like it.

  Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

  You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

  “No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

  Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

  “Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

  “You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands. 

  “And I can. Please, let me do this.”

  You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

  After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

  You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

  You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

  You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

  Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

  Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

  “It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it. 

  You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

  “So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject. 

  “It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university. 

  Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

  “See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?” 

  You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat. 

  “Okay, spill.”

  Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

  “Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!” 

  This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile. 

  “Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush. 

  “Steve Harrington.”

  “STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

  “Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

  “Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

  You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

  “Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.” 

  You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

  “And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again. 

  “Does he flirt with you?”

  “No.”

  “See him flirt with any girls?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

  “Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

  Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

  You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

  “He’s on the spectrum?”

  Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

  It got quiet for a few moments.

  ”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

  You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most. 

  She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

  ”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

  “Reefer Rick?”

  “Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

  Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

  Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

  Munson.

  You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

  You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

  Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

  “I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

  “How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

  “Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

  You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

  Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

  Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

  “Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

  “No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

  “How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

  “I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

  Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

  “H-He’s your favorite…?”

  “Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

  “You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

  You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you. 

  “Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

  Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

  “He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

  Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

  You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

  You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

  You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea. 

  “Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

  Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

  Maybe a drink would calm you down.

  You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

  “The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now. 

  “What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

  “Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

  You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

  Oh, shit. 

  Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

  You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

  ”Funny seeing you here.”

  You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

  “Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

  You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off. 

  “It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

  “I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

  “Oh.”

  He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

  OH, THANK FUCK. 

  “Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

  “So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

  “Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

  She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

  “Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

  “Hey, Carol.”

  Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

  “You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl. 

  “Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

  “Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

  “You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

  “I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

  Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

  When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

  Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

  “Oopsie.”

  But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

  “Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy. 

  Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

  Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

  At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

  You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

  Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning. 

  You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

  You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

  You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

  “You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

  “You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

  “Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

  He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

  “You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

  He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

  Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

  “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

  “Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

  “Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it. 

  Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

  ”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

  “You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

  “Wall.”

  “Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

  “Great Wall of China.”

  Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

  “Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

  Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense. 

  Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

  ”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

  “Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing. 

  “Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

  “Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

  And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

  At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

  Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

  Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

  “Does that feel good?”

  You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.” 

  Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

  Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

  You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

  All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

  You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

  To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

  Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

  “I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

  You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

  When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

  The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

  The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within. 

  She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

  You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

  Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

  “Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

  Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

  You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you. 

  His right arm was out, palm up.

  He was waiting for you.

  You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

  Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

  “Sissy. . .”

  “Sissy…”

  “SISSY!”

  You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

  She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect. 

  What the hell?

  “You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

  You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways. 

  You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

  “It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

  “Oh my god…”

  “So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

  You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

  “Ooh, your knees…”

  You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

  “I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

  “Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

  Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

  “You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

  Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist. 

  “Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once. 

  “Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

  “It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

  “Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

  You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

  “Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

  “It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

  “Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

  “That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

  “Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

  “I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

  You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

  Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

  You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

  “─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

  ”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

  “And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing. 

  “That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

  Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning. 

  You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

  You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

  But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

  You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

  You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

  “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

  You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

  “I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

  You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

  “Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

  “THAT WE DO!” 

  You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

  “What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

  “Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

  “Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

  “Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

  “Mm. White wine?”

  It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

  “Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

  You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

  You shot him a glare.

  “Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

  You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers. 

  You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

  When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

  Then your eyes snapped open.

  Oh, god. You were a loser.

  After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

  A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

  “Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

  “Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

  There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

  “Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation. 

  “She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

  “I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

  “Yes, we got a free soda!”

  Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

  You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a  reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

  “Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

  Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

  “Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

  “Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

  “You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

  “All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.” 

  “Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

  “I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

  “I bet you can.”

  After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

  You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

  Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

  You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house. 

  Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder. 

  And it was coming from outside your front door.

  You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

  Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home. 

  You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

  “Uuuhhhnng…”

  This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

  ”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

  You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

  “Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

  You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

  “OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

  Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

  Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life. 

  “Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!” 

  You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

  Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs. 

  You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

  “Stop it!”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “Go away, I’m just a girl!”

  The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

  Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

  You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

  You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

  Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located. 

  On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature. 

  You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it. 

  Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

  The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

  When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

  Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

  His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

  “It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.” 

  He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation, 

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

  “Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

  “I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

  It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

  He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

  You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

  “Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

  He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

  “Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

  A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

  Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

  “C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

wayne's got him

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'wayne adopts steve' rated g wc: 680 cw: migraines tags: hurt/comfort, established relationship, fluff

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

Steve's head was pulsing, a sharp pain shooting from his eyes to his neck, sitting at his jaw for minutes at a time.

He hadn't had a migraine this bad in a while, and definitely not since Eddie had started working. He didn't have anyone here to help, and Robin would be at work until the afternoon.

He slowly rolled over in bed, wincing as the pain got worse from the movement.

He couldn't contain the whimper he let out as he tried to settle again, his head hurting too much in every position to try to get comfortable.

"Steve? Y'alright?" Wayne's voice was probably a normal volume, but it felt like shards of glass in his ears, against his eyes.

Apparently, his responding whimper was enough to have Wayne opening the door and coming into the bedroom.

"You dyin'?" Wayne whispered, seemingly sensing that every noise was too much.

"No," Steve managed to say. "Migraine."

Wayne didn't respond at first and Steve couldn't keep his eyes open. What little light was coming through the window felt like the sun was shining two feet in front of him.

And then the light was gone, the room was nearly pitch black, and Wayne's footsteps were getting closer to the bed.

"Gonna get you some water and meds. Hungry?" He whispered.

Steve shook his head once, barely.

He may have passed out for a minute or two because the next thing he knows, he's being slowly lifted enough to take a sip from the glass that's being held against his lips.

"Just a few small sips, son. The meds are crushed up in it," Wayne whispered.

Steve did his best, dribbling some when he accidentally opened his mouth too far.

Wayne wiped his mouth and chin after with a towel hanging off the chair by the bed.

"Called Eddie to let him know, told him I got ya."

"'S okay."

"I got ya, I said. Lay back, I got the ice pack."

Steve did what he asked, sighing with relief when the ice pack was placed on his forehead.

"That better?" Wayne asked.

"Mhm."

"Leave it for ten minutes and then I'll switch it out with the hot water bottle."

Eddie must've told him that helps.

Their day wore on, Steve sleeping when he could find some relief, letting Wayne nurse him back to health when he couldn't.

By the time Eddie got home, Steve's head was in Wayne's lap while he slowly massaged his temple.

"Any better?" Eddie whispered.

"A bit," Steve replied softly. "He did the ice and heat."

"Of course he did. That's where I learned it from," Eddie smiled softly at him.

"You go get cleaned up and then take over," Wayne said to Eddie. "I got him."

Eddie kissed Steve's forehead before walking to the shower to wash off the day.

Steve closed his eyes again, trying to fend off the nausea of the smell of chemicals from the mechanic shop that always lingered on Eddie after a shift.

"Stinks, don't he?" Wayne asked quietly.

Steve smiled.

"A little. 'S okay."

"Smells hurt worse though, don't they?"

"Yeah."

"He's still got some learnin'. But I got ya both 'til he does."

Steve turned his head to look at Wayne.

"Why are you helping me? Weren't you tired after your shift?" Steve asked, realizing for the first time that Wayne had just gotten home from his night shift when he found Steve miserable that morning.

He'd been awake for more than 24 hours now, and didn't seem even remotely worried about himself.

"Cuz you're my boy. I love ya and if ya need me, I'm gonna be here."

Steve felt his eyes start to burn with incoming tears, his throat closing against a sob.

"But-"

"No buts. You got me same as Ed, and if I could, I'd adopt you too. Okay?"

"Okay."

By the time Eddie made it back into the bedroom, Steve was asleep, and Wayne's eyes were drooping closed.

Eddie didn't have the heart to make Wayne get up.

It'd be okay; He had Steve.

[godslino]

IN CONTROL | jeongin established relationship. college au. smut. minors dni.

pairing: jeongin x fem!reader word count: 4.7k warnings: explicit content, swearing, soft!dom jeongin, unprotected sex, sex toys (vibrator), public humiliation (kinda), fingering, piv, spanking, creampie summary: jeongin buys a new toy and decides to test it out in the library

· · · ♡ masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

“This is the best idea I’ve ever had.” Jeongin mumbles, his eyes dark, trained on your every move.

Jeongin is a menace, insatiable, constantly finding different ways to turn your sex lives up a notch or two when he has the time. And tonight, he’s trying something new.

Well, you both are.

The library is unusually busy for a Friday night, you realize, as you squeeze your thighs together and pull your bottom lip tight between your teeth. Jeongin’s still watching, probably has spit pooling in his mouth at the sight of you squirming in your chair. He does little to hide the slight upturn of his mouth, and it only serves to turn you on more.

There wasn’t much that could have prepared you for what he had waiting the minute you strolled into his apartment earlier, his eyes sparkling when you planted an innocent, unknowing kiss on his cheek.

“What’s that look for?” You had asked, raising an eyebrow when his smile only grew.

“We’re still going to the library tonight, right?” He asked, hand on your waist as he caged you in against the counter of his kitchenette. His fingers flexed atop the fabric of your jeans, already excited, itching to touch.

“That’s the plan. Unless you don’t want to, but I really need to study for my philosophy debate next week and—wait. What is that?”

“Surprise.” He said, pulling a small box out from behind his back. You let your eyes dart between him and the gift, something like anticipation swimming around in your gut. It wasn’t a holiday, or an anniversary, and Jeongin really only ever got that look in his eye when he—

You pulled the lid off, eyes going wide at the site of a pair of lace underwear sitting in a bed of tissue paper. Beside it, a small remote.

“Is this…”

“Mmhm,” Jeongin hummed, placing the box on the counter so he could pull you in by your hips for a kiss.

Painfully slow, his tongue worked your mouth open with force, cock already pathetically hard beneath his sweatpants at the mere thought of having you at his full disposal.

“You put these on before we leave, and if you show me that you can handle it,” he paused, dropping his voice an octave lower, the resulting growl enough to send a shiver down your spine, “I’ll bring you back to my place and reward you.”

That’s how you found yourself here, seated at a table towards the back of the library, the soft lull of a vibrator against your core as Jeongin controls it with a remote hidden in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“You seem to be—mmnf—enjoying this.”

Jeongin smirks, wets his lips. Even with the way his hair falls into his eyes, it’s hard to miss the hunger in them.

“You have no idea.”

Despite his outward facing, saccharine sweet demeanor, Jeongin harbors an almost animalistic desire beneath toothy grins and shy rubs to the back of his neck.

When you first met, you found him cute and quiet, too reserved to even spare a glance in your direction for the most part. Not that you were any better, but to say you were shocked the moment you and Jeongin finally fell into bed together is an understatement.

Of course, it took a few times for him to let loose, to feel comfortable enough to let go and have you take him fully, but once he did he couldn’t stop.

Jeongin is all rough hands and filthy words, guttural moans and spit stained sheets from when he gets too drunk on the taste of you that he can’t be bothered to clean it up. The worst part? You love it. You love the praises he whispers and the secret touches he gives when no one is looking, love the way his eyes will find you from across the room and undress you inside and out, your stomach twisting and turning from just a single upturn of his lip. Jeongin throws your world on its head, satisfies you in ways you never thought possible.

“Jeongin—ah.” His name comes out as a broken moan, the vibrator pressed tight between your legs. He must be cranking it higher, the sensation getting more and more intense, the squeezing of your thighs barely enough to contain it.

“What was that?” He asks innocently.

Jeongin leans back in his chair, far enough for you to see the way his hand twitches in the pocket of his sweatshirt, a stronger vibration following immediately after. “I didn’t quite catch what you were trying to say.”

Torture. That’s the best way to describe this. Jeongin’s been edging you for the past fifteen minutes, waiting until the last second, when you look like you’re about to come undone, only to lower the setting and leave you whining behind the screen of your laptop as you hide your face. It was more bearable when he had it set to a constant speed, but now, you’re barely managing to hold it together

You’ve waited too long, pretended to be taking notes for what feels like forever, when you finally decide to beg him for relief. “Jeongin, please, can we—”

“Hey lovebirds!”

The world, seemingly against you, decides that now is the best time to send a crescent-eyed Hyunjin waltzing up to your table. He’s got one hand wrapped around the strap of his bag, hair tied back into a ponytail, and he looks an awful lot like he has enough free time to make small talk. How cruel.

Unsurprisingly, Jeongin’s smile grows. The vibration increases between your legs. Fucking hell, he looks like a kid in a candy store, teeth on full display. “Hey Hyune! What are you doing here?”

“Oh Innie, I ask myself that every time Old Yeller over there tries to sweet talk me into taking her granddaughter on a date.” He jerks his head in the direction of the help desk where Mrs. Jung is already staring at him over the top of her glasses.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes before turning his attention to you, “Long time no see, y/n. Tell Yang to start bringing you along to hangouts so we can talk about him behind his back.” His eyes disappear into his smile, and you do your best to reciprocate.

“She would never.” Jeongin says, eyes narrowing in your direction at the exact moment the vibrator begins whirring with more intensity.

You take a deep breath, white-knuckling around your pen as you fight to suppress a moan, “Mmhm. Sure thing. Sounds fun. I’ll make sure to be there next time.” You pause after every few words, giving yourself just enough time to collect your bearings as Jeongin continues to wreak havoc against your throbbing core.

Hyunjin, bless his heart, doesn’t seem to notice. He smiles—beams even—before his eyes fall to the open philosophy book next to your laptop. “Oh, shit, you’re in that class too? Must be a different section than mine, but I haven’t even started reviewing anything. Seungmin’s going to beat my ass before the debate.” Jeongin’s thumb brings the vibrator up one notch. “Do you mind if I take a peek at your notes for a sec?”

Yes, you want to say. But you can’t, you know you can’t. And, more importantly, Jeongin knows you can’t.

“Yeah sure, I—hah—it’s uh, it’s all in here.” You say quickly, turning your laptop a bit so he can see the screen.

“Fucking bless. You’re a lifesaver.” Hyunjin says in relief, oblivious to your little slip up.

Jeongin saw it though, heard the way the moan almost fell from your lips. He’s been painfully hard the entire time, straining against his underwear, cock swollen from how badly he’s turned on. Hyunjin showing up doesn’t do much to help, only adds to the thrill of it all. You look so pitiful trying to hold it together, trying to hide how good you feel. To hide the way Jeongin is controlling how good you feel.

You’re being good for him. So good. He could bend you over the table right now if he wanted, fuck you so the whole student body can see for all he cares.

You visibly relax when Jeongin brings the intensity down, your legs shaking as you slowly relieve some of the tension off of your aching thighs. The knot in your stomach is still there, sitting on the precipice of release as the dull hum of the vibrator continues. You’re so close it’s almost terrifying, unable to predict what you'll do when Jeongin finally gives you the satisfaction of letting go.

As if he can read your mind, Jeongin’s foot knocks against your shin under the table. You shift your gaze up to him, cock an eyebrow as if asking What? Done for now? to which he replies with a wink. Challenging. You lick your lips. Jeongin’s dick twitches in his pants.

“I don’t know why,” Hyunjin says, squinting at the screen, “But I have this feeling that Professor Kang is going to give our class the question about free will. Like, whether or not we have it. So if I was going to argue from the standpoint of compatibilism, that means I’m only speaking for instances where external constraints are absent, right?”

“Well, yes,” you begin, leaning in closer, “But you have to remember that compatibilism doesn’t mean that humans are free, though. Always make sure that—” Jeongin’s foot starts sliding up your leg, stopping right at the inside of your knee, “—that, uh, you don’t confuse your stance with one of the other three perspectives.”

Hyunjin furrows his eyebrows. “Yes, but, if there’s an absence of external constraint shouldn’t that mean they’re free in a way? The constraints are what’s stopping them, no?”

You blink hard, eyes fixed on the screen as you try to refocus your attention on what Hyunjin is saying. “Y-Yeah, but, sometimes you—” Jeongin’s foot slowly pushes your knees apart until your legs are spread wide beneath the table, enough so that your folds are no longer separating the flat side of the vibrator from your clit. He gives no warning, no time to process what’s happening until your entire body jolts forward from the force of the vibration against your now exposed clit.

“Woah, are you okay?” Hyunjin asks, eyes wide. You let out a few hesitant breaths as you straighten back out. Jeongin’s foot is firm against your left knee, forcing it open as he innocently fiddles with the corner of his notebook.

He’s playing a dangerous game, tiptoeing the line between teasing and just being downright cruel. Jeongin supposes that the ideal situation would not be for you to come undone right here at the table, Hyunjin’s eyes on you as he waits for a response, lips parted in confusion and concern.

“I’m fine I’m just—”

“Actually, we have to go.” Jeongin cuts in, glancing at his watch. “I forgot that we have a dinner reservation at seven. Must’ve slipped my mind. You can email him the notes, yeah babe?”

You blink at him in surprise, swallowing when his foot trails the length of your leg until it’s resting back on the ground. The vibrator turns off, and Jeongin lifts his eyebrows in a silent signal.

“Y-yeah! Of course,” you turn to Hyunjin, “Sorry, I don’t mean to cut it short. You can definitely text me if you have any more questions though.” Your voice is strained, throat tight with anticipation. Jeongin is looking at you like he could eat you alive, and it takes everything in you to not moan right then and there even without the sensation of the vibrator against you.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah totally. I don’t want to keep you guys any longer,” Hyunjin says happily, his eyes taking on that familiar shape, “Have fun you two! Also, Yang, I’m watching you. You’d better invite her out with us next time!” He calls out, pointing two fingers at his eyes before turning them in Jeongin’s direction as he walks backwards towards one of the study rooms. Jeongin gives him a lazy wave before focusing his attention back to you.

“All of a sudden?” you ask, not bothering to lead in with anything else.

Jeongin doesn’t say anything, just starts shoving his things into his bag. You watch him for a few moments, eyeing him carefully. Is he…mad? No, right? There’s nothing you could have possibly done to piss him off. If anything, you're the one who should be mad at him for making you look like a fool in front of Hyunjin.

When it’s clear that Jeongin isn’t in the mood to talk, you slowly start packing up your own things. Your legs feel like jelly once you stand, aching from the knot of arousal that’s still sitting low in the pit of your stomach. Jeongin lets his eyes trail your body before he pushes away from the table.

“Come on, let’s go.” He mumbles, eyes dark. You open your mouth to say something but he pays no mind, just grabs your hand and heads straight for the door.

//

The walk is silent. Jeongin only grunts in greeting at the person behind the front desk of his apartment building, hurriedly making his way to the elevators as you struggle to keep up, his grip on your wrist the only thing making sure you’re close behind. Jeongin doesn’t say anything during the ride up to his floor, either. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t react.

You’re at your limit when he punches his code into the keypad of his apartment, flinging the door open and ushering you inside. You’re about to confront him, about to turn and ask what you did wrong and apologize for whatever it might’ve been when he slams the door shut and yanks you by the wrist, pulling you with enough force to have your back against the wood in a matter of seconds.

One hand above your head, palm flat against the door, Jeongin uses his other to cradle your jaw and slam his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Your hands fly to his hair immediately, tangling themselves in the softness of it, pulling slightly to elicit a groan out of him just the way you know he likes.

“Did so fucking good,” he mumbles against your lips as he drops both of his hands to press your hips further into the door. “Gonna reward you now, yeah? Gonna make you feel good. Give you what you want.”

You clench around nothing as his words shoot straight through you, nothing but heat spreading throughout your entire body as his mouth works hot against your neck. You squeeze your thighs together for something, anything to relieve your want for more.

“Jeong—fuck, please.” You whine when his hand slips into your pants, and you feel him smile against your neck.

“Look at you begging. Always so good for me, so needy.” His fingers grip the end of the vibrator as he slips it out of the pocket of the underwear and tosses it somewhere on the floor.

You gasp, your eyes flying open. “You’re going to break it.”

Jeongin chuckles, “I’ll buy another one.”

“You can’t just waste money on that.” You groan and pull his head back by his hair, “I bet it was expensive too, wasn’t it?”

“I’d spend any amount of money if it meant I’d be able to see you look that fucked out in public again, baby, trust me.” Jeongin smirks. “Now, can you ride my face or are we gonna continue to argue about my financial responsibility?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, smirking when Jeongin’s eyes flicker to them. He takes it as the okay, drops to his knees, and smiles in satisfaction at the hiss that leaves your mouth once he pulls your jeans down to your ankles and the air hits the wet fabric of your panties.

“Fuck, look at you,” he sighs, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to each of your thighs. Your legs start shaking almost immediately. “Can’t believe you’re mine.” He mumbles as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband and pulls them down your legs, helping you step out of it.

Jeongin cups his hands under your thighs, thumbs pressed to the inside of them, and then spares one last look up at you through thick lashes before he’s leaning in and licking a stripe up your folds. You nearly collapse then and there, but his hands hold you up, grip firm.

“Holy fuck,” you groan. Jeongin hums against you, licking and sucking at your clit like his life depends on it. He feels like it does. He can’t help but pull back and admire how red and swollen you are, sensitive as hell from all the edging, your wetness practically leaking all over his chin. He lets you fist at his hair as incoherent words tumble from your lips, lets you grind your hips into his face as he stiffens his tongue so you can fuck yourself on it, his nose brushing your clit every so often and sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

It’s good, so fucking good, Jeongin’s always known how to push your limits in a way that has you trembling and craving more.

“Right there,” you gasp, your thighs clenching as you shake in his hold, your peak reaching faster than you expected it to. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Jeongin flattens his tongue and begins lapping at you pathetically, bringing a hand up to start pumping two fingers in and out of you at just the right angle. You cum all over his fingers, hot white flashes clouding your vision as your hips stutter, his left arm keeping you firm against the door. He lets you ride it out, sucks lazily at your clit until you’re jerking with every touch of his mouth to your core, too sensitive for him to continue.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before standing up, hair completely ruined and pupils blown wide with desire. He leans in to kiss you, more gentle this time, and he laughs into your mouth when you all but melt into his arms and he has to tighten his grip to hold you up. You moan when he tilts your head back and licks your bottom lip, to which you open for him, and he kisses your own arousal into your mouth.

“Think you can keep going?” He asks.

You don’t answer, just snake your hand in between your bodies and cup him through his sweats. He’s hard, practically straining against his underwear.

“Your turn.” You whisper, walking him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the couch and he falls on to it. He spreads his legs wide, watches with heavy eyelids as you stand before him and remove your shirt, leaving yourself fully exposed for him to see.

“God you are…” he trails off when you move towards him and climb onto his lap, grinding your hips down against him and no doubt leaving a wet spot on the outside of his sweats, “…fuck.” He groans, throwing his head back as he presses his thumbs into your hips to help you press down harder.

“I’m what?” You ask when you begin trailing kisses down his jaw, loving the way his stubble scratches against your lips. You suck at the spot just below his ear, still grinding against him.

“Everything I’ve ever fucking dreamed of.” He sighs.

You pull back until your noses are barely brushing and stare into his eyes for a moment. “What?” he asks as he starts rubbing circles into your hip bone with his thumb.

“Nothing I just…” you trail off, eyes still searching his as he stares back at you with an overwhelming amount of adoration.

“…I just really want to suck your dick right now.”

Jeongin barks out a laugh, loud and punctuated, before his head falls forward onto your shoulder and the remaining giggles are nothing but choppy breaths that ghost your nipples.

“What?” You laugh, hitting his shoulder. “I’m serious!”

He picks his head back up to look at you, eyes disappearing into the smile that’s on his face, and leans forward to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “I know, I know, I just—I love you, that’s all. I. Love. You.” He punctuates every word with a kiss, but you chase the last one until his lips are slotted against yours hungrily once again, his hands dropping to cup you from behind.

You inhale deeply before sliding off his lap, dropping to your knees on the floor in front of him. Jeongin lifts his hips just enough for you to help him slide his sweats and underwear off in one fluid motion and then yanks his sweatshirt over his head, leaving him fully naked and sinking back into the couch cushions. With his legs spread wide, cock hard and swollen pink against his stomach, messy hair and wide eyes, you think about just how lucky you are to call him yours, to be able to have him in every way possible.

Without wasting too much time, you rest your hands on his thighs and lick along the underside of him, tracing the vein there with your tongue and then sucking off the precum at the tip. “Shiiiiit,” Jeongin moans, throwing his head back.

You grab at the base of his cock and take him fully without warning, sinking down until he hits the back of your throat. He’s big enough that he fills your mouth completely, spit dribbling out of the sides as you work the bottom half of him with your hand, moving in time with your lips as you bob your head up and down.

“Holy fuck, shit, fuck,” the words tumble from his lips as he keeps a steady hand on the back of your head. You look up at him, a single tear spilling from the corner of your eye. He watches with parted lips for a second before pulling you off of him, a string connected to where spit is pooling on your chin.

“I am not,” he says, out of breath, “Cumming unless I’ve got you around my cock.”

You smile as you scramble up and onto his lap, planting your legs on either side of him. He raises an eyebrow in question, “Aren’t your legs tired?”

“Not for you they’re not,” you say as you reach behind, your hand using your leftover spit to pump him a few times. “Now shut up.”

Jeongin laughs and puts both hands behind his head, arms on full display as he leans back, “Yes ma’am.”

The moans you both let out the minute you sink down on him is so pornographic you’re almost embarrassed. If his neighbors didn’t already know what you were doing, then they definitely do now. Jeongin’s shoulders are firm where you anchor yourself to him, using his body as leverage while you ride him to high hell.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, his hands finding your breasts immediately. Sometimes you forget how big Jeongin’s hands are, both of them cupping you completely, only your nipples peeking out between his fingers as he kneads your chest.

“Bet you liked knowing how wet I was for you while I was talking to Hyunjin, huh?”

Jeongin won’t admit it, but he loves it when you talk to him like this during sex. He likes to feel in control, likes to have his way with you, but on the flip side he loves when you take initiative too. You can feel him twitch inside you at your words, his hips jerking upwards to meet your movements.

“You liked knowing you were in control, that you could make me cum at any second and I’d have to hide it, maybe squeeze my legs to stop myself. And the poor guy, he wouldn’t have a clue. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if I started whimpering and shaking, would he? And it would all be because of you.”

Jeongin responds by bringing a hand down on your ass with a loud smack, your body jolting forward into him from the force. It only spurs you further, your knees on fire from exertion.

You can feel the mark blooming, a big red handprint sure to be visible by the time you wake up tomorrow morning. Part of you wants to get it tattooed there, to have a permanent reminder of Jeongin on your body, to always know what it feels like to be wholly and unconditionally his.

“God you’re so fucking nasty,” he all but growls into your ear, his mouth hot as he connects his lips with yours, tongue licking eagerly into your mouth. “Close.” He grunts.

Jeongin sees stars when you lean back and prop yourself up on his knees, planting your heels into the couch on either side of him so you can fuck yourself onto his cock at a better angle. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing mercilessly while he bucks his hips up to meet your movements halfway.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Jeongin—!”

The sensation of you clenching around him as you cum makes Jeongin’s own release follow shortly after, both of you moaning and swearing as you ride it out together. He lets you fall into his chest, rubs a soothing hand up and down your back as you both attempt to calm your breathing and reel yourselves back to reality. His skin is sticky with a sheen of sweat, your own forehead damp and legs shaking.

Jeongin sighs and brings a hand up to tangle in your hair while his fingers massage your scalp. You pull back, staring at him in confusion.

“What?”

Jeongin blinks a few times before he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “I think you’ve definitely ruined me for anyone else.”

Although he meant it in a sweet, endearing way, you narrow your eyes and poke a finger into his chest. “Why are you saying that as if ‘anyone else’ is even an option?”

He throws an arm over his face, “You know what I meant.”

“No, actually, I don’t think I do—”

“You literally just rode me into oblivion. I bought you vibrating panties just so I could—”

“—I can’t believe that after I just broke my knees for you that’s the first thing you say!”

Jeongin bursts into a fit of giggles when you dig your fingers into his ribs, squealing when he tosses you off of him and you roll on to the side of the couch. “Okay, okay! Let me make it up to you, just stay there.” He says before disappearing into the bathroom. When he reamerges, he’s got a wet washcloth, which he uses to wipe you down before kissing the pout off of your face.

Not long later, when you’re both showered and he’s got you draped across his lap in a pair of his sweats and one of his hoodies, Jeongin chances a tap on your shoulder.

“Hmm?” You hum sleepily.

“So, you never explicitly said it, but on a scale of one to ten…if you were to rate my gift…”

You huff out a laugh, turning so that you’re on your back in order to look at him. “Definitely a ten. Could do without the borderline public humiliation next time, though.”

Jeongin leans down to press a kiss to your lips, smiling when you wrap your arms around his head to hold him there for a while longer. “Noted. As long as you never say one of my friends’ names during sex ever again.”

“Why? You sounded like you liked it.”

“Shut up.” Jeongin groans, resting his forehead against yours. It has to be an uncomfortable position, his entire body hunched over at nearly a ninety degree angle to even reach you. “I was balls deep inside of you when it happened. Completely out of my mind. But then, when I was in the bathroom taking a piss five minutes ago I was like, what the fuck? So yeah. No public humiliation as long as I never have to hear Hyun—”

Jeongin’s phone vibrates a total of three times on the couch next to him, cutting him off. He eyes it for a moment, confused as to why anyone would even be messaging this late, and then laughs when he finally picks it up to read what was sent.

“Speak of the devil,” he scoffs before turning the screen towards you.

hyunjin

yo yang

sorry to bother

you think y/n could email me those notes now?

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[kaleldobrev]

I Want Them To Hear

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ben wants to make sure Hughie knows what it actually sounds like when the two of you have sex. In other words, Ben makes damn sure Hughie gets yet another night of no sleep because of the two of you.

Original Prompt: Requested by @k-slla | I loved your last post (poor, poor Hughie 😂). I would love to read a sequel, where SB& reader DO keep everyone up, for other reasons 😏 (if you're up to it 😊) x Kerly

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Cursing (23x), Smut (Oral - M&F receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Sex - P in V), Implied p*rn watching, Hughie getting scarred for life (again), Semi-Public sex (living room)

Authors Note: Before you read this make sure you read A Simple Misunderstanding first | I think 23 curse words is a new record for curse words for me (21 out of them are the same too) | I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you all enjoy it! | 18+ only please | MDNI | If you want to request something, just send me a message! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You looked over at the clock that was above the fireplace in the living room, and it was almost midnight, and you weren’t the least bit surprised that you weren’t even tired. Although you didn’t have a good sleep schedule before you joined the Boys (as you were a full-time college student when you joined the group), your sleep schedule somehow became even more jacked when you joined; something you didn’t think was even remotely possible. You had found yourself going to sleep at three, four, sometimes five in the morning, or not even going to sleep at all – a constant flow of energy drinks and coffee to keep you going.

The last couple of days though were unusually uneventful, verging on normal, like there wasn’t some kind of revenge war going on. The closest thing that had been kind of eventful was Hughie’s outburst this morning over breakfast, accusing you and Ben of having sex which kept him up – something that actually didn’t happen between you and Ben even though it was something that you did want to happen last night. Due to his little outburst though, the rest of the day was filled with a consistent flow of jokes (mainly at your best friend’s expense) that seemed to put everyone in a great mood (except Hughie of course). In a way, you did feel bad for him, but at the same time, his outburst this morning was unnecessary.

Your legs were currently in Ben’s lap, one of his arms draped over them as his other hand was lying on the arm of the couch with a remote in hand; the only source of light in the room coming from the television. As Ben flipped through channel after channel, you couldn’t help but stare at him as the shadows on his face changed with every single flip trying to find something to watch. “How is there so many channels and nothing to watch?” He asked, not even looking at you.

You shrugged your shoulders and he turned to face you. “I found plenty of things I’d watch. It’s not my fault you’re picky.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not picky. TV just sucks now.” He began, and you already knew where this conversation was going. It was about to turn into a ‘back in my day’ rant that you had heard practically every single day since you had met him. “Back in my day, TV was actually good.” Before you could interject he continued. “We didn’t have stupid reality shows about people who are famous for nothing.” You couldn’t help but agree with him on that one. “There’s 400 channels and only two of them are watchable.”

“And which channels does the almighty Soldier Boy deem watchable?” You asked, emphasizing the nickname.

“ESPN and TCM.” He answered without hesitation. You simply just rolled your eyes.

“Of course those would be the only two channels.” You mumbled, even though you knew he could hear you; there was no use in mumbling around him. “I love ESPN and TCM too, but there are other channels that are watchable Ben. How about FoodNetwork and HGTV?”

Ben scoffed. “Sometimes they’re watchable.”

“Okay. How about…” You thought for a moment, trying to think of a channel that Ben would possibly enjoy; then it hit you, causing a smirk to form on your face. “How about Skinamax?”

He looked at you with a confused expression. “What the fuck is Skinamax?” You let out a slight laugh, causing him to raise a brow. “What?”

“You don’t know what Skinamax is?” You asked. “Honestly, I’m slightly surprised.” You held out your hand. “Hand me the remote and I’ll show you.”

“Why can’t you just fucking tell me?” He asked, his facial expression annoyed.

“Because Ben, it’d be more fun to show you.” Your lips turned into a smirk. “Don’t you trust me?”

Again, your response earned yet another eyeroll from him. Of course I fucking trust you, he thought. What kind of stupid question is that? “Fine.” He said, handing you the remote.

“Okay, and why couldn’t you of just told me it was just fucking porn?” He asked, his tone sounding a little annoyed with you.

“Because, I thought it would be much more fun to show you.” You turned away from the television and looked at him. “You’ve watched porn before though right? Like, I’m assuming you have cause well…you’re…well you.”

He looked at you briefly before looking back at the screen again. “Have you watched porn before?” He mumbled, mocking your tone. “Of course I fucking have.” He said, a tad louder and a bit more annoyed sounding. He turned back to face you. “Who hasn’t watched porn before?”

You shrugged. “Fair point.” You said. “You know…” you began, as you started inching your way closer to him. “As much as I’d love to continue watching this…interesting movie. There is something I’d much rather be doing.”

He smirked, his full attention on you now. “And what’s that Sweetheart?”

“Well, you did make me a promise this morning.” Your voice was low, your hand inching closer to the hem of his pants.

“I made you a lot of promises this morning.” His voice was low, but not nearly as low as yours.

“But there was one in particular.” Your fingers started slipping into the waistband of his pants as you maintained complete eye contact with him.

“You going to tell me or is it more fun to show me?” He asked, your hand made contact with his cock and you gently wrapped your hand around him. Ben slightly groaned at the contact.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “I think you know the answer.” You whispered.

Without a second to waste, he pulled his sweats down giving you slightly better access as you started moving your hand up and down. You went slow, knowing that it was killing him inside with the pace that you were going at. As he was about to open up his mouth to protest the slow pace, your head went down and you started sucking him off; a slight taste of pre-cum on your tongue. Your hand and mouth started going in tandem with each other; no longer focused on his face, but focusing on what you were doing. “Fuck,” he groaned, and he threw his head back into the couch, enjoying the feeling of your mouth and hands wrapped around him, a feeling that he’d wanted since the moment he laid his eyes on you – despite him knowing how much you hated him at first.

You released him with a pop for a moment; your hand still going. But the loss of your mouth on him caused him to open his eye to look at you. “Ben, you need to be quiet. I don’t want the whole house to hear.” You stated.

Your words gave Ben an idea, and a smirk grew on his face. “Princess, I want them to hear.”

“You…you want them to hear?” Your voice a whisper. “Why?”

“Cause I want your little friend to know what it actually sounds like when the two of us fuck.” His words made you audibly gulp, and you barely even knew how to respond. Weirdly, the thought turned you on.

“Okay.” Your reply hesitant. Despite the slight hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his cock again; your mouth and hand working in tandem again.

As you worked, the sounds that were coming out of Ben’s mouth weren’t remotely quiet; a mixture of groaning and moaning. His hand gripped your hair slightly, pulling at it gently, messing it up. Between him basically playing with your hair as you blew him, and the sounds that he was making; it encouraged you to pick up the pace a little, and you yourself felt yourself starting to get increasingly more wet. “God, your fucking mouth.” He groaned. He bucked up a little, and when he did that he let himself go; releasing himself into your mouth and down your throat. You usually weren’t a swallower but for him, you made the exception.

Once you helped him ride out his orgasm, you released him with a pop; the two of you making eye contact again. “Lay down Princess,” he demanded, “and spread those legs of yours,” he grinned.

“Yes Sir.” You said, probably a little bit too loud.

The nickname you gave him just made him grin even wider, slightly more evil looking. “Can’t wait to wreck this pussy of yours.” He said, completely pulling your shorts down in one swift movement. He eyed your bare pussy for a moment before smirking up at you, cocking a brow. “Went commando today uh?” You bit your bottom lip, nodding. “Sweetheart, if I would have known, I would have fucked you on the kitchen table this morning just to prove a point.”

“Be-” before you could speak, his point finger started to slowly dip inside of you. “Fuck.” You moaned, slightly whispering.

“You’re fucking soaked Princess.” He said, smugness in his voice. “All this just from blowing me uh?” He added a second finger as they both started going into you a bit deeper, a slight curve to them.

“Y-yes.” You moaned out; his two fingers starting to move slowly in and out of you, a similar pace you had done earlier on him.

“So, tell me this Sweetheart. Are you generally just a cock slut, or are you just a slut for my cock?”

The pace of his fingers started to pick up gingerly; no words were forming in your brain to even respond to his question. He was barely doing anything to you, and you were slightly embarrassed by the way your body was reacting to his touch, but at the same time, he actually knew what he was doing – hitting you in all the right spots. “Just…Fuck…Just for yours.”

“Just for mine what?” He added a third finger, curling them inside of you. All you could do was moan; verging on the sound of pornographic. “Need you to use your words Princess. I know how much you like to talk, don’t hold back on me now.”

“Fuck me…” you mumbled, feeling a heat rising in your cheeks. “I’m only a slut for your cock Ben.”

He clicked his tongue a few times, seeming unsatisfied with your answer. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t quite hear you.” The smugness in his voice returned, knowing that he could hear you. You knew what he really meant: your friends couldn’t hear you.

With a small groan, you spoke just a tad louder, hoping it would be loud enough to satisfy him. “I’m only a slut for you cock Ben.”

He grinned. “There it is.” He sounded so proud of himself.

“Ben I’m about to –” you came, not even finishing your sentence, your orgasm practically exploding out of you. Despite the amount of times you’ve had sex, this was the first time you could actually say that you had a mind-blowing orgasm. He continued to move his fingers in and out of you rapidly as you rid out your orgasm.

“Fucking beautiful,” he praised. “I’ll never get fucking tired of seeing a woman cum.”

As soon as you came down from your high, he removed his fingers from you, licking them clean; and you already hated the feeling of not having his fingers inside of you. “Fuck.” You breathed out, your chest rising up and down as you tried catching your breath.

Ben chuckled. “You good there Sweetheart?” He sounded amused.

“Yeah…So…Good…” your voice trailed off.

“Good, cause I’m not done with you just yet.” Before you had the chance to respond, he pulled you by your ankles, sliding you across the couch. Pulling you into his lap, both of your hands rested on his chest, slight heat radiating from it, which strangely felt good against your palms.

Your legs were spread open wide enough that you were able to straddle him; your knees on either side of his thighs resting on the couch. Without any kind of direction from him, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, tossing it to the side, leaving you completely naked; you felt even more vulnerable somehow than you did before. You leaned in, your hands on either side of his face now and kissed him; his hands automatically gripping your hips. Based on the tightness of the grip you knew you’d have bruises, and honestly – you couldn’t care less, you wanted him to leave marks.

The both of you moaned into the kiss, and you started rocking your hips gently, trying to obtain some kind of friction. He smirked against your lips. “Someone’s a little needy.” He teased. “You just came Sweetheart.”

“Yeah but…” You kissed his neck, and leaned in close to his ear, “that was on your fingers, not on your cock.”

“And you say I have the dirty mouth.” He laughed a little, removing his hands from your hips. You sat back on his thighs as he took one of his hands and wrapped it around himself, pumping it in his hand a few times. “Going to fill that pussy right up.”

“Please.” Your tone slightly begging.

“So cute when you beg.” He said, his tip teasing your entrance. “You ready for me Sweetheart?” You nodded and placed your hands on his shoulders, almost as if you were bracing yourself. As he started pushing himself inside of you, you let out a long moan, shutting your eyes. “Fucking love your moans.” He complicated, as he watched your face slightly contort. “Taking me so well too.” He chuckled. “Really are a cock slut uh?”

“Only for you.” You breathed, his cock almost fully inside of you.

“Damn right only for me.” His voice sounded slightly possessive; and the tone turned you on more than you thought it would, and he felt you clench around him. “You like that uh?” You nodded in response. “Good.”

As you started moving your hips, Ben started placing kisses between your breasts, every so often taking one of your nipples into his mouth. The noises you were making were pornographic sounding again; no words really escaping your lips, just moans. Your hand gripped the back of his head, clutching at his hair. “Ben,” you moaned, shutting your eyes as you continued to rock your hips.

He attached his lips to your neck now, slightly nipping and sucking on the skin. Not only were there going to be marks on your hips, there were going to be marks on your neck now too. “Mine,” you heard him mumble; but you weren’t entirely sure if you heard him properly.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, and he removed his lips from your neck. “You heard me,” his voice possessive again. “You’re mine now.” He said. You weren’t sure if this was bedroom talk or he actually did mean that you were his, and his alone. Either way, you loved the sound of being his – despite the slight alpha/misogynistic undertone to it.

“All yours.” You agreed. He took two of his fingers and started rubbing your clit, trying to get you closer and closer to the edge. You felt the pressure start to build, and you were insanely close to coming again. “I’m so close.”

“Can’t wait to cum inside of you Princess.” His fingers started picking up the pace, and his hip movements were starting to get erratic – he was close too.

“Fuck.” You mumbled, your own movements matching his erratic ones. “I’m about to –” as you started to cum, his lips latched onto yours, and you moaned into his mouth.

“I’m right there with you.” He said, coming closely after you. The kiss deepened as the two of you rid out your orgasms; his fingers working lazily on your clit.

“Holy shit.” You said, essentially collapsing onto him. Your forehead rested on his shoulder as your chests were pressed up against each other; his arms wrapped around your lower back, his clock still buried inside of you.

“You alright there Sweetheart?” He asked, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah just…” you started breathing a little heavy again. “Don’t have your stamina.” You laughed a little. “I’ll be okay.”

“Good. Cause I can’t have you dyin’ on me.” His tone was joking, but you knew that he would be devastated if anything were to ever happen to you. Because over the course of time he had known you, he had grown to deeply care about you; and it was something that surprised the both of you – hell, it even surprised the rest of the group.

"What the fuck!" You and Ben both turned and saw Hughie standing in the doorway of the living room; his facial expression looked as though he was about to blow a gasket.

Ben rolled his eyes out of annoyance. "Do you mind?" You gently lifted yourself off of him, grabbing a nearby blanket and quickly covered yourself and Ben, although the damage was probably already done.

"Yes! Matter of fact I do mind! This is the second night in a row that I woke up because of the two of you!" He yelled; and you could of sworn you saw a vain bulging from his neck. He was pissed.

Ben laughed, amused by Hughie's reaction. "Now you know what it actually sounds like when the two of us fuck. Should of kept your mouth shut this morning kid." He grinned, and gave him a wink.

"Seriously? You guys were loud because of what I said this morning?" Hughie's voice was now annoyed. Ben simply just shrugged at his question. "You are such an asshole."

Ben shrugged again. "Worse has been said."

“Hughie I –” you began, but Ben cut you off.

"But, I can promise you this," he got up from the couch, pulling up his pants in the process as he made his way toward Hughie. He placed a hand on his shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes, grinning. "You better get used to not fucking sleeping cause your friend has one hell of a pussy and mouth on her." You didn't need to see his face to know the absolute pleasure he had saying that to your best friend.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @zombie-freak If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[justagalwhowrites]

Undone

After a stressful week at the office, Joel knows just how to take care of his wife. AKA Joel Miller doms the stress out of you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: No Outbreak AU. Established relationship, husband and wife. Dom!Joel x Sub!Reader (light). Tiny little age gap (like 5 years? I'm picturing Joel at 44 and reader at 39?) Unprotected P in V sex. Oral sex, F receiving. Creampie. Overstimulation. Aftercare.

Length: 5.4k

A/N: This is totally self indulgent. It's also like... entirely smut. Sorry. But not really. OK love you bye!

Joel knew what you were after the minute you kicked the door closed. 

It was Friday and it had been a hell of a week for you. Joel had done his best to support you through it - he’d finished up one big job on Tuesday and didn’t start the next one until Monday - so he’d taken the lead on keeping the household running while you put in extra hours and came home frustrated and exhausted every night. 

He knew it wasn’t going to magically be better just because it was Friday, so he’d spent the day trying to make the end to your work week as good as he could. He went to the HEB and got your favorite snacks, picked out flowers for the kitchen table, even went by the liquor store on the way home to get everything you’d need to unwind at the end of your day. He started smoking ribs early that afternoon and was outside to sauce them when he heard the door slam behind you. 

Joel didn’t need to see what happened, he knew from the sound that you’d thrown the door open and then kicked it shut behind you. He’d bet the check from his next job that you’d be face down on the couch, your shoes and briefcase a little trail from the front door to the living room. He shook his head, taking a swig of Shiner before closing the smoker and heading inside to find his wife. 

You were exactly where he thought you’d be, taking up almost the entire length of the couch, flat on your stomach, blazer still on but your heels and bags scattered between you and the front door. 

“Aw baby,” he said sympathetically. “That great a day, hm?” 

You made a sound that was caught somewhere between a grunt and a groan. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

You made the sound again and Joel tried not to laugh at it. 

“Here,” he said, coming and adjusting your legs so he could sit beside you on the couch. You groaned as he did but he guided you from lying on your stomach to sitting up to leaning on him, your face in his chest. He put his arm around you and gave you a squeeze. “Tell me what melted down.” 

“We have our quarterly earnings release going out in less than two weeks,” you sighed. “And it’s a shit show. Legal’s been reviewing that shit for what feels like an eternity and I need to issue the goddamn release announcing the date of the full release but I can’t do that until I actually know that legal and financial are going to have stuff sorted in time and the CEO has emailed me twice a day about it the whole week because sure, the legal team definitely falls under my department…” 

Joel held the still mostly full bottle of beer in front of you and you took it from him, your fingers brushing his and you were quiet for a moment as you took a sip before handing it back. 

“Also, HR is going to be the death of me,” you continued, on a tear now. “I swear, it shouldn’t be that hard to find a qualified entry level candidate but here we are, still short staffed 10 weeks after I got the OK to hire. They’ve sent me two resumes, Joel. Two. I called them today to ask how many they’d received and they’ve had 226 candidates apply and they’ve sent me fucking two! I refuse to believe that just one percent of applicants were remotely qualified so I asked them to forward me all the applications since, apparently, recruiting can’t do their damn jobs so I’m going to have to do it for them…” 

Joel nodded along, handing you the beer periodically when he felt you getting too worked up. He found himself, not for the first time, awed by what you did for a living. He didn’t understand much of it, really, and he was thankful he didn’t need to. He wasn’t cut out for that kind of shit. You, on the other hand, had jumped in with both feet when you’d started at your company seven years ago when the two of you had just started dating, You’d risen up the ranks quickly and you now had a team of several dozen people reporting up to you. As gentle and sweet as Joel knew you to be at your core, he knew you were also unflinchingly driven at work. During the COVID shut down, he’d gotten a glimpse of it, listening to you take people - mostly men who seemed to think you weren’t as capable as you clearly were - to task and get things done. He was eternally grateful that, when the two of you fought, you didn’t take him down the way you did people who crossed you in the office. Though that stood in sharp contrast to how Joel heard you talk to the people who reported up to you, with you seemingly always happy to lend an ear or provide guidance or take the heat if they fucked something up that was going outside your department. 

Unfortunately, that meant you had weeks like this one, where plenty went wrong and you had no one to pass the buck to. And he knew as well as you did that you wouldn’t just let something fall apart, not if there was a damn thing you could do about it. Even if that meant working yourself into the ground. 

After a while you just deflated against him and he handed you the beer again. You took a long drink, emptying the bottle, and Joel took it from you to set on the side table. 

“Feelin’ better?” He asked, his nose brushing your hair. 

“Kind of,” you sighed, pressing yourself closer to him. 

“Somethin’ more I can do?” He asked, trying to make sure that he wasn’t nudging you in the direction he was hoping this would go. 

“Yeah,” you said, something shifting in your tone when you said it. No longer frustrated and fed up, instead needy and wanting. You sat up from him and looked at him through your eyelashes, practically pouting. “Turn my brain off for a bit?” 

Joel’s heart picked up, heat and tension already gathering low in him. 

“Aw, my baby need me to fuck her stupid?” He asked, reaching out to cup your face in his hand. His thumb traced along the arch of your cheekbone as his eyes locked on your blown pupils. “You need me to make that big brain of yours slow down for a while, that it?” 

“Yes please,” you breathed. He could feel your skin getting warmer below his touch. 

“Please what?” 

“Please sir,” you said, holding your hands up with your wrists together, like an offering. “Please fuck me stupid. Please sir.” 

He quirked his jaw before he smiled, dark and low.

“Good girl,” he growled. He got up and closed his large hands around your wrists before pulling you sharply to your feet, looking you up and down as he did. There was something that drove him wild, seeing you like this. Dressed in your armor of the business world, a place where lesser men had to go to you for permission to do a goddamn thing, and you came home to him, begging him to strip you down to something small and vulnerable and easily consumed. 

He wasn’t sure why you’d picked him of all people. When you’d met almost eight years earlier, his first thought was that you were way out of his fucking league. A friend of Tommy’s then girlfriend now wife, you were a few years younger than him but had clearly kept your life on the right fucking track the whole time instead of driving it into the ground for a while first. You’d gone to college, built a damn impressive career, had goals and dreams and plans for yourself. You were beautiful and smart and funny and kind and the first time he’d taken your clothes off he was still not entirely sure why you were letting him do it. 

He’d been even more surprised the first time you’d shared with him that you wanted him to take control in the way he was now. 

“I just have to make decisions all the time,” you’d said, folded into a corner of his couch with a glass of wine in your hands. “I just really want to have someone else take over for a while, you know? Not have to make any plans or take care of anybody else, just enjoy and be enjoyed.” 

That, Joel had thought, he could give you. 

It wasn’t something the two of you always indulged in but there were days like this one where you seemed to crave it. Maybe even a step beyond that - you needed it. You needed the safety of Joel’s guidance, the comfort of his control, the ease of his pleasure. He liked to give you those things. More than liked it, sometimes he lived for it. 

Today was one of those days. 

He led you to the bedroom and stood you at the foot of the bed, your wrists still firmly in his hands as his eyes searched yours. 

“You just want to be my little doll, is that it?” He asked, his thumbs brushing the inside of your wrists. Your pulse was heavy and hard. “Want me to take control so all you have to do is feel what I let you feel?” 

“Yes,” you breathed. 

“Yes what.” 

“Yes sir,” you were practically squirming. 

“What are your colors,” he said more than asked.��

“Green, yellow, red,” you answered quickly. 

“Where are you now?” 

“Green.” 

“Good girl,” he guided your hands so they hung at your sides. “Don’t move until I tell you.” 

He watched you resist the urge to nod and he slipped his hands below the lapels of your jacket, running his hands over your skin for a moment before shoving the sleeves down your arms and leaving the blazer in a pile on the floor. He watched you swallow, your throat working and he tried not to think about making you kneel and taking his cock into that pretty throat of yours. He knew just how good it would feel while you sucked him, how fucking good it would feel to come down your throat. 

Maybe later. Right now, he needed to take care of you. And that’s exactly what he was going to do. 

*** 

When Joel touched you like this, it was like something unspooled inside yourself. There had been a knot in your stomach for days at least - maybe longer - and nothing had worked to untangle it. Not crossing things off your to do list at the office, not the yoga class you’d skipped lunch to take, not the iced latte your assistant had ducked out to grab you that afternoon. But Joel’s hands on your skin as they slipped the slender straps of your satin top down your arms were better than anything else, especially when your mind wasn’t going a mile a minute thinking of ways to please him in return. You watched as he moved to undress you, his eyes heavy and hot and hungry as your top pooled around your hips. He reached around your body to unhook your bra, casting it aside before cupping your breasts in his large palms, groaning as he did. 

“You feel so good,” his thumbs brushed your nipples. “My soft, pretty fuckin’ girl.” 

“Joel,” you whimpered, clenching your hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. He’d told you to stay still and you had to obey. If you didn’t, you knew he’d drag out your first orgasm for what felt like an eternity, bringing you just to the edge of it but never letting you fall into your climax until you were a desperate, dripping, squirming mess. 

“What, baby?” He almost cooed at you, just a hint of a teasing edge to his tone. “What’s my baby need?” 

“More,” you whined. “I need more, please, I need…” 

He took his hands off you then and looked you in the eye and you almost reached for him before you caught yourself. 

“Who decides what you need right now,” he said. You moaned and he ignored you. “Who. Tell me, pretty girl.” 

“You,” you said. 

“That’s right,” he nodded. “And I’ll give you more when I decide you need more and I decide I’m done enjoyin’ the parts of you I’m enjoyin’ right now. So. You stand still like a good little doll and we’ll see when I’ll let you have more. Got it?” 

“Yes,” you said. 

He took your chin in his fingers, forcing you to look him in the eye. 

“Yes what.” 

“Yes sir.” 

His crooked smile dimpled his cheek. 

“Good girl.” 

He returned to touching you, running his large and callused hands over your shoulders to your chest, holding and massaging your breasts and you could tell he was taking his time less for himself and more because he knew what it was doing to you. That it was making you achy and desperate and the thoughts that had been weighing on you all day at the office were slipping out of your mind, drifting far away into the ether. 

“Think I remember you sayin’ something about more?” Joel said, his voice low and gravelly as his hand slipped over your stomach, below the bunched fabric of your shirt, below the waistband of your pants until his fingertips were brushing your bare mound inside your panties. You whimpered. “How about I give you some more, hm?” 

His index finger reached out and brushed the top of your clit, sending a shiver through you, all the heat you had inside yourself pooling low in your stomach. 

Joel chuckled. 

“Think she likes it.” 

He pressed a little lower, a little firmer, working your sensitive nub in slow, languid circles. 

“She like this too?” 

You nodded frantically. 

“Thought I told you not to move,” Joel said, stern. 

“But…” 

“No buts,” he cut you off. “You wanted to give me control so you give me control. Otherwise, you won’t get what you want. Got it?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“You’re lucky,” he said as he went to open your pants. “Got me all worked up, too. Too worked up to draw this out the way you deserve, squirmin’ the way you are.” 

He got on his knees in front of you and gathered the fabric of your shirt, pants and underwear in his hands and pulled them all down in one go, the sudden exposure of your skin to the air making you gasp and goosebumps scatter over you in sharp little pin pricks. 

“Fuck, there you are,” he groaned, his hands coming to grip the thick swell of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat of you as he pressed a kiss to your stomach just below your belly button. You moaned, wanting nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his curls. You clenched your fists tighter, nails digging into your palms, acutely aware of where he was touching you because of the absence of him everywhere else. 

He trailed his mouth down to your slit, his tongue dipping into you there, brushing against your clit, the heat of his mouth in sharp contrast to the cold air against your wetness. His hands slipped up your back, finding your waist before Joel stood, his still clothed body so close to your naked one. 

“Lie down for me,” he said, a little breathless. “Middle of the bed.” 

You rushed to obey and watched hungrily as Joel undressed himself, his black t-shirt coming up and over his head, his jeans opening to reveal his tight boxer briefs with his thick, hard cock straining the fabric. He took off everything before crawling up the bed over you and, for half a moment, you thought he really was going to give into you that quickly, give you exactly what you wanted that fast. But instead of settling between your thighs with his heavy length brushing against your slit and his mouth on yours, he fell to the side of you, the weight of him jostling the mattress. You turned your head to look at him, confused, and he laughed, dark and low. 

“You didn’t think you were gonna make me give in that fast, did you?” He asked. He slid one arm below your ribs, his hand coming up and around the back of you to hold your breast while his other hand teased a feather light path down from your throat, over your chest, your stomach to your slit. “No, not done with this yet.” 

“But…” 

“You just lie still and let me worship you,” he said, his palm cupping your mound, his middle finger settling between your lower lips as he put gentle pressure against your clit. The tip of his finger circled your dripping entrance but didn’t slip inside where you were aching and desperate for him. “Want to enjoy you for a while.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to protest, his mouth finding just the right spot on your throat at the same moment he added pressure to your clit, grinding his hand against your most tender place and making your back arch below his touch. 

Joel kissed and licked and sucked along your neck, your collarbone, your breast, his cock brushing against your thigh as he manipulated your body and you could feel his precome on your skin when it did and you were desperate to touch him there, to feel just how hard you’d made him, make him start to unravel the way he was doing to you. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, a finger sliding inside of you, making you groan. 

“But I want…” 

He pulled back from you to look in your eyes and you could tell from the glassy look on his face that you probably already looked like a fucked out mess. 

“You tryin’ to make me feel good or you want it for yourself?” He asked, brows raised. You tried to find the words but couldn’t. He nodded. “S’what I thought, you sit still like I fuckin’ told you. You try to touch me and I won’t let you come, got it? This is about you, not me so you’re gonna lay there and take it, understand?” 

“Yes sir,” you whimpered. 

He went back to working you over, adjusting so that he could fully kiss down your body until his head was between your thighs, two fingers buried inside of you as he looked up your body to your face. 

“New rules,” he said, pressing his lips to your clit for a moment and sucking it into his mouth before continuing. “Want you to come and I want you to come hard. You’re allowed to touch my head to put me where you need but you do anything else with those hands and we’re startin’ over. Understood?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

He practically dove into your pussy, his thumb working your clit, his tongue licking deep into your channel. The fire in your belly burned brighter and it was like you could feel all the blood in your body pulling into the center of you. Your hands flew to his head, the thick of his hair and the heat of his scalp almost sharp against your fingers after having felt nothing but your own palms for what felt like forever. You rocked your hips against his face as he ate at you, a finger slipping into you alongside his tongue, working the inside of you deftly so that you were never empty but never lacking the friction of him moving in you. His fingertip curled into the soft, sensitive place inside of you that he found so easily now, adding the perfect amount of pressure as his thumb and nose worked your clit and you felt your pussy get so tight and hot you worried, for half a second, that it would hurt him before every worry flew out of your head entirely, your entire body flooded with waves of pleasure as you came on his tongue. 

Joel worked you through your orgasm, never letting up as you moaned and panted, your grip on his hair easing as your body started to go limp. Your pussy was so sensitive when your climax eased but Joel didn’t pay your little whimpers any mind. He pulled his mouth from you but added another finger, fucking into you with his hand and adjusting so his palm was grinding against your clit as he did. 

“There you go,” he panted, wiping your slick from his mouth before taking his cock in his hand and working himself with it. “That what you needed, pretty girl?” 

“Yes sir,” you whimpered. 

“Good,” he said, his eyes ranging over you, dark and hot. “Because now it’s my turn.” 

He pulled his fingers from you and spread your thighs a little wider, lining his cock up with your still weakly grasping hole for half a moment before thrusting deep into you in one devastating go. You gasped at the stretch of him filling you like that, the inside of you still soft and tender from your orgasm. Your fingers scrambled at the blanket below you, your back arched and taut and you tried to hold onto something - anything - in your head beside how he was splitting you open. 

“I say you could use your hands like that?” He asked, his fingers finding your wrists and clamping around them. He pressed deep inside you and folded over you, bringing your hands with him, pressing your wrists down into the mattress over your head. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little doll right now, ain’t you? Mine to do what I want with and I want you to take it.” 

“Joel,” you whimpered. 

“That ain’t my name right now, is it?” 

“Sir,” you corrected, resisting the urge to rock your hips up against him. “Please!” 

“Please what?” 

You couldn’t put words to what you wanted to ask for and Joel just smirked before releasing your wrists and sitting up, looking down over your body to where he disappeared inside of it. 

“What I thought,” he said, his hands pressing your thighs wide before his thumb trailed over where you were split open on him to your clit, teasing you in a slow circle that made you jerk involuntarily below him. He took it away, his hand on the soft flesh of your thigh again. “You leave those hands there and take it. You can take it, pretty girl. Know you can.” 

With that, he pulled back, slow and aching, before fucking back into you, hard and fast with a forceful grunt. You watched him fuck you, his cock slamming into you with enough force that it jerked your body up and down the bed. You were lost in it, the way you could see his muscles flex, the way his eyes ranged over you - watching the place he was spreading you open and the way your tits bounced for him and up to your face to meet your eyes and back again. It was almost hypnotic, like there was nothing else in the world that existed outside of him. He was controlling you totally, fucking into you with enough force that you couldn’t even breathe out of sync with his thrusts, your body just something he could manipulate and pleasure and use however he saw fit. 

You weren’t sure how long he fucked you like that before his hands ran over your thighs to your core, his thumbs brushing along your clit, pressing into you there and working you in hard little circles as your channel started to tighten around him again. 

“There we go,” he panted. “Got another one right there don’t you? You’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you pretty girl. Gonna give me everything, ain’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you whined, your fingernails digging into your palms as you fought to keep your hands still. 

“Good girl,” he pressed himself deep as he worked your clit and returned to his same punishing rhythm, the head of him finding the place inside you he’d claimed for himself. He left one thumb on your clit, his other hand stretching up and over your stomach, fingers splaying wide on you until it was in the middle of your chest where you knew he could feel how your heart was pounding behind your ribs. The feel of him everywhere was overwhelming, the tight spool of pleasure that had never fully relaxed after your first orgasm already wound unbearably tight again. 

“Want you to come for me,” he said, voice needy. “Want you to be a good girl and come. Give it all to me, baby, want you to just let go and give it all to me, let it all go, c’mon and come for me, make me fuckin’ feel it…” 

You cried out as you obeyed, your channel fluttering over his cock as he kept fucking you deep and hard. You could feel your orgasm in the very center of you, in every muscle and every nerve, your climax taking hold of you so firmly that you felt a gush of liquid rush out of you. 

“Fuck, there you go,” he said, not letting up. “Fuck baby, love when you squirt for me, such a good fuckin’ girl…” 

The wet snap of his hips into you was obscene and, as your orgasm eased, your body was already drawing tight again. Your heart raced and you could feel everything, everything, so sharp and harsh and overwhelming. Your head swam, your skin prickled. 

“Love feeling you come for me,” Joel was still fucking into you, hard and bruising like he was trying to climb inside your skin and claim a place for himself there. “Love when you get all tight and desperate, love making you all needy…” 

You let out a fucked out little whimper, tears pricking at your eyes, not able to see straight through the haze of your already building orgasm. Joel leaned over you, his cock buried deep but going still. 

“You with me, pretty girl?” He asked, his hands sliding up your arms to find your wrists, holding you gently in place. You couldn’t seem to find the words to answer, too overstimulated to think of anything beyond how he was filling you and surrounding you. “Gimme a color, baby.” 

“Yellow,” you managed. 

 He took your limp wrists in his large palms and guided your hands to his skin, resting them on his broad shoulders. 

“That help?” He asked. “You can nod.” 

You nodded quickly, your breathing evening out, body still tight and strung out. 

“Color?” 

“Green,” you said, the tears that were in your eyes slipping down your cheeks but not being replaced by new ones. 

“Good,” he shifted inside you, pulling back a little before thrusting in again. “Because I ain’t done with you yet. You keep those hands right where I put ‘em and just focus on coming one more time for me, need you to milk me dry, baby.” 

But his pace eased, less frantic and more desperate, working you slow and firm from within. He buried his face into your neck, his mouth finding that place that sent shocks of pleasure through your whole body. His hands ranged over you, fingers hungry and grasping at your skin, his hips working against your clit as his cock found its home deep within you. 

“Know you’re close,” he said against your skin, lips still close enough to brush against you as he spoke. He kissed along your neck, nose teasing along your throat. “You got one more in you, baby, I know you do.” 

“Sir,” you whimpered, pleading, not sure if you wanted to come or wanted to just dissolve. 

“You can come,” he fucked you slow and deep. His public bone pressed against your clit and your back arched. “Want you to come, want to feel you come. Make me feel you, baby. Be a good girl and make me feel you.” 

You dared to let yourself move, just enough that you could rock your hips up against him, working yourself with his body as you felt him grow impossibly thicker and harder inside you. Or, maybe, you were just tightening further around him, body clinging to him in one last desperate push for closeness as your climax hit again. You cried out with it and you couldn’t just leave your hands on Joel’s shoulders, instead latching onto his hair and sliding down his back, pulling him flush against your body so the only thing left in the world was him and his skin and the thick of his cock as he started to pulse inside of you. 

Your orgasm almost hurt it was so intense. You could feel every inch of Joel’s cock in you, the heat and softness of his skin against you, every muscle in your body going rigid and tense for a moment before relaxing. Your vision went spotty and you got light headed and you lost track of time. 

The next thing you knew, you were in Joel’s arms, cradled against his chest, his fingers trailing a gentle path along the edge of your hairline and jaw, thumb brushing the plush of your lips. 

“There you are,” he said softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his large hand coming to rest against your cheek as you turned your head to look at him. His eyes were soft and warm and there was a gentle smile on his face. “How are you feelin’ love?” 

You took stock of your body for a moment, everything feeling light and airy. 

“I’m good,” you smiled a little. 

“Yeah?” He said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Take a deep breath for me, OK?” 

You nodded a little and did as you were told, only realizing then just how little your lungs had been inflating before. 

“How’s that feelin’?” He asked. “Good?” 

You just nodded, still smiling. 

“How about this for the night,” he said, going back to tracing an easy trail over your skin with his fingertips. “In a few minutes, I get up and get you water and a cocktail while you put on that pretty little swimsuit of yours. You float in the water while I look at ya and finish those ribs in the smoker…” 

“You’re making me ribs?” You almost pouted, your brows going up. 

Joel chuckled. 

“Yeah, that OK?” 

“That’s my favorite,” you said, feeling like you might be about to cry. 

“I know it is, baby,” he said, kissing your temple again. “S’why I made ‘em. Got that potato salad you like, green beans, cornbread too. Even got that chocolate cake you like so much…” 

“The Oreo one?” You sniffed, tearing up. 

“The Oreo one,” he brushed your hair back. “You still with me there baby?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, crying a little. You weren’t entirely sure why, just every emotion you’d had over the past week seeming to bubble up at once. “I think so…” 

“You’re OK,” Joel said, pulling you closer, his lips gentle on your skin. “I’ve got you.” 

You just nodded against him and focused on how his skin felt on yours, his warmth and strength grounding while your mind was still swimming. 

“What about after dinner?” You sniffed. 

“We can watch one of those movies you like so much,” he said. “I know the ones that’ve been on your list, you don’t gotta pick unless you want to. Sound good?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “But… can we just stay here for a little while first? Please?” 

“Course baby,” he said. “Whatever you need. I’ll take care of you.” 

You nuzzled into his skin and breathed deep and you didn’t really know why you’d been so stressed when you got home to begin with. You just knew that you had Joel and that, as long as he was there, everything else would be OK.

[yxami]

Yandere lover who’s not really your lover,

happy nut or not November day 11

desc: yandere bsf x gn reader, mentions of stalking, happy nut or not November day 11, obsession, general creep stuff, yandere themes/actions

Your childhood best friend is honestly the best friend you could ask for, he’s everything you want in a partner, everything you need.

But of course, it wasn’t meant to be since you only saw each other as something platonic, like bleach and rubbing alcohol, the two of you should never get mix together unless you wanted to cause problems. You’ve come to realize that since the start of your close friendship and it’s never hurt you before.

Not until last month.

“Aren’t they so hot? I can’t believe I’m talking to them” He laughs but not in the squeaky out of breath one when he’s having fun with you that you adore, these days it seems like all he wants to do is talk about them.

God you hate them, you hate them for making you feel these awful thoughts, the scorching hot ones that make your stomach twist in disgust, you could feel the jealousy radiate off of you but somehow this idiot hasn’t noticed yet and you’re thankful for that even if it hurts.

“Mhm” You tiredly say, you might rip your skin off if you weren’t able to find a distraction soon.

“Hmm? What’s up?” He perks up from his phone, staring at how exhausted and upset you looked, he hadn’t looked up once from his phone and now he feels awful for not noticing it. “Did you flunk a test?”

“Nah.. just tired, I stayed up too late yesterday” You weakly laugh, an unenergized smile being paired with it afterwards. You wish it was something as simple as a shitty test score.

“Geez, what was it with? The new game you got?” He curls his left arm around you, bringing you in for a side hug before he hums. “By the way I forgot to tell you that I wanted to come over tonight, can I?”

“Yeah sure, but nah I’m just obsessed with an old game I used to always play”

“Hmm, cool” He stops hugging, believing your response. “After school lets just go straight home, Kay?” He waits for a sign of approval you just nod with a simple “mkay”

You slipped off your shoes without having to untie them once you got home, groaning in annoyance from the rain that soaked you and your best friend. You threw him a shirt and shorts for him to wear, picking the oversized pair you had for comfortability since he was taller.

“So, do you wanna play that game you’ve been losing sleep over?” He plops on the edge of your bed, eyes hungrily trailing all over your exposed back as you switch into your pajamas.

“Yeah, get the game set up, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick” You throw him your remote before walking to leave the room into the connected bathroom.

He turns on your tv and the pc automatically connects when he clicks on the power button. He tries not to get distracted away from the screen, to patiently sit and wait for you, but he can’t help it.

He hasn’t been over in so long. Three weeks, 5 days, and 12 hours. All for this dumb plan that he originally thought would end way quicker.

He assumed you’d confess your feelings after a week of him gushing over some idiot he found to string along, that you’d just pour your heart out to him if you heard his lovesick words to another that truly meant nothing. But you didn’t, it’s been so long and you still haven’t.

You’ve showed more than a few signs of jealousy but he couldn’t risk revealing his infatuation with you, not unless it was confirmed by your words that you genuinely shared the same feelings. He wouldn’t have all those years of waiting and now few weeks of neglecting you go to waste.

He’s felt awful doing it too, seeing your pained look every time he mentioned them.

He’ll just steal a few clothing items like he did every hangout and return the ones he doesn’t plan to keep. He pushed himself off your bed with his hands, using them to rummage through your closet afterwards. He’s also trying to look for something that might show an obsession towards him. Maybe a shrine? A little statue you pray to?

Those were the things he had for you, including with his board of connections that kept tabs on who you seemed a little too close with.

“Damn..”He huskily grumbles as he continued to sift through your closet and found nothing incriminating. He’s desperate to find something that reveals your true feelings. His cloth stealing plan went well, he has a shirt and some underwear stashed in his pockets.

“What’rya doing?”

He cursed at himself for being too lost in thought to hear you coming, he’s on his hands and knees frozen. “I’m just looking for the other console, I couldn’t find it so I thought it would be in your closet like always” He gets up, swiping at the invisible dirt on his knees.

“It’s on my bed, how’d you miss it?” You say with a slight chuckle interrupting your words. It was a little strange that he didn’t see it but you didn’t think anything of it.

“Ha, dunno” He jokingly grabs onto you, almost taking you down on the floor with him by how hasty he did.

“Anyways, let’s start playing” He looks at his phone while you set the game up, noticing a flood of messages from the idiot he’s been stringing along for you.

“What? Is your partner texting you?” You joke, still trying to get used to that fact that he couldn’t be yours.

“Not my partner.” His tone is serious and sharp, did you hit a nerve?

“Oh, my bad” You awkwardly laugh, chewing on your bottom lip, wondering why he reacted that way.

He responds back drily to his fling, noticing how quiet you became after his snappy response, he looks up to see your slight frown as you continue playing.

“Sorry, m’ just annoyed, they keep spamming me” He grumbles, staring at their desperate messages as they appear.

“I get it” You smile weakly, playing your game in single player mode for now since he seemed focused in on his phone.

While he’s distracted you take a few glances every now and then, checking in on if he would want to play, as you observe his expression your eyes travel down to his pocket, a familiar color pops out.

Your shirt? The one you wore yesterday was in his pocket, you could tell it was yours from the ruffles that slightly peaked from his pocket. Why would he have your shirt in his pocket?

You set your controller down and pull the fabric out of his pocket, making him swiftly turn his towards you. “Hey!”

“Isn’t this mine?” You unfold the shirt to see you were correct, an underwear of yours had also been revealed as well. “This is mine too” You furrow your eyebrows in immense confusion, staring at him as you awaited for an explanation.

“It’s— it’s just.. I don’t know” His tone is shaky, failing to even make a poor excuse, there’s no real reason he could give you other than him being a big creep. “I’m sorry...” He scoots on his knees, pressed against your legs as you still remains sat at the edge of the bed.

His eyes plead at you for to respond and he’s about to speak up to fill the silence before you decide speak.

“I don’t know what to say..? I guess I just want to hear why you did it” You look at his sulking demeanor, letting him rest on you, if it soothed and helped him speak up then you’d allow it.

“I made.. this stupid plan and it backfired on me, I wanted to see if you liked me but I was too scared to do anything so I pretended I liked someone else to see if you would confess and— and it was just stupid, I’m stupid I’m sorry” He rambles, facepalming his forehead with your lap, tempted to sob but he doesn’t refuses to.

Not when you’re looking, it would be embarrassing, right? He can’t have you hate him more than you already do.

“Please don’t hate me.. I promise I’ll behave so well if you let me make it up to you..”

[candy-rat]

☀️ˏˋ°•*⁀➷✧Puppy Love✧

♡ Percy Jackson x Fem!Apollo Reader

♥︎ Summary: you attempt to teach the cute boy you may or may not have some feelings for how to better work a bow and arrow. || Percy blurb!

☆ Warnings: None!

(ofc i know the relations between Apollo, Zeus, And Poseidon but the readers relation w Percy and the reader is the same w him and annabeth so use that info as u must) 

★ A/N:  I’ve only ever read the first and a bit of the second book + the two movies so this is based off the new series(Walker Scobell) + plus I have the BIGGEST crush on Walker Scobell.

♪ Credits: Ty Bunny’s RPH for the divider<3

+Barely Proof read

It was another sunny day at Camp Half-Blood, kids either chasing each other around or actually putting effort to train and what nots.

Surprisingly the archery field was as empty as ever, which is why you find yourself here.

As the daughter of Apollo you tend to neglect your gift of archery rather finding yourself in simple socialization, but today you thought differently.

Your dad would be proud, wouldn’t he?

As you were in the middle of your archery session you swore you heard the sound of bushes rustling.

The sudden noise caused you to turn around, trying to identify where the noise was coming from.

You were met with the sight of a boy.

Not just any boy.

Percy Jackson.

With earlier memory you can recollect, the boy was definitely not the best with a bow and arrow, so why would he be here?

“Uh, hi” the boy spoke up.

“Oh uh, hi?” You responded in a confused yet optimistic tone.

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

You’ve seen the boy on multiple other occasions, you never really talked to him before.

To be honest with yourself, you probably had the slightest crush on the boy.

The tiniest one of course, you barely knew him.

“So, do you need something? Or?” you spoke, breaking the silence.

“Oh! Uh yeah I did, yeah.” He replied with a slight crack in his voice.

Another moment of silence.

“Uhm, what do you need, uh Percy was it?” You questioned.

You didn’t need to ask, of course you knew his name.

It’s not creepy, word just gets around you know?

“Yeah uh that- that’s my name, you’re (Name) right? Daughter of Apollo?” He asked.

“Oh yeah, that’s me.” You replied.

“You’re like really good at archery right?” He asked once more.

“You could say that, being the daughter of Apollo kinda you know comes with it, but my older siblings are definitely better.” You confirmed.

“Well I was uh wondering-“ he responded.

“Mhm?” You simply hummed in reply.

“If you could, i don’t know uh teach me how to get better at archery?” He finally let out.

You looked at your bow and back at Percy.

You wonder exactly why he asked you.

Maybe he just came here in hopes to ask the first person he sees, or maybe he was looking for you specifically.

That’s a nice thought.

“Really?! Okay, I don’t mind!”you replied.

“You don’t?!” He replied.

“Of course not! I don’t have much to do anyway.” You giggled.

Before anything you told him the basics, how to stand, how to correct your breathing, and how to aim better.

The day went on.

Percy missed the target completely most times.

But once he finally got remotely close, you had to say you were proud of the blonde.

You were happy to even spend time with him.

“There you go Percy! That was great, you’re getting better!” You chuckled, swinging you arm over his shoulder squeezing him a bit.

He froze at the sudden contact for a moment.

“Thanks! I really c-couldn’t have done it without you, you know!” He went on blushing.

“Awe don’t sweat it, it comes naturally so I never need to put much in to it, but thanks!” You thanked the boy, feeling your face heat up.

Percy handed you the bow back queuing the end of your lesson.

“You know if you ever want me to teach you again I’d be happy to, just swing by cabin 7 I’m usually there.” You mentioned.

“Yeah sure, but about that-“ he started.

“About what?”

“Well uh, seeing each other again you know? Like not during training” He blushed.

“O-oh! Yeah i wouldn’t mind at all, I enjoy your company!” You responded.

“Really?!” Percy added.

“Yeah really.” You confirmed.

“I uh- like being around you too.” Percy smiled.

The two of you got along perfectly.

Like a puzzle piece.

You definitely had a crush on him.

He might like you back.

Percy definitely is too scared to confess anytime soon.

And maybe that’s good.

Love takes time.

Especially puppy love.

A/n: innocent puppy love is deff the vibe I’ll always go for with my Percy fics so hopefully I’ll have time to do more      (Miles 42 fic in the making!!!!)<3

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 9] Gender Reveal

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji does everything in his power to win you back, and lately it seems that he can only do that with things that are baby related. Your second ultrasound comes up, and it’s when you finally find out the sex of your baby. It’s fair to say that you’re over the moon with this, and Toji wouldn’t say it but he’s already really excited about this. 

He’s becoming a father again, and even though he said he never wanted another baby, he’s just thinking about another chunky baby who he can be overly affectionate with, with no judgment. Maybe Toji isn’t all that affectionate, but he did love kissing Megumi’s chubby little cheeks while nobody was looking. It was just the best feeling in the world for him. One of the perks of being a father.

Toji suggested you do a small gender reveal party since he looked up online ways to surprise your pregnant wife, and that popped up. He asked Shiu for some help with setting it up, and that’s what he’s doing tomorrow. Toji is doing everything in his power to get on your good side. He’ll do just about anything to win you back, even if it’s just a stupid little party that he wouldn’t throw if you were on good terms.

“Megumi! Come here!” Toji yells from the couch. He has his reading glasses on, blue yarn on his lap while he waits for his son to get to the living room. He’s about to yell Megumi’s name again because the teenager is taking too long, but he finally comes out. He furrows his brows in confusion as he looks at his dad. “Put a knitting video on the Youtube. I want to do something.”

“What are you trying to do, old man?” Megumi asks, grabbing the remote of the smart TV and begins to type what his father wants him to put on.

“I’m your dad, don’t call me old man.” Toji scoffs, and that’s not a good enough argument for Megumi so he will keep calling Toji an old man. “I’m trying to knit a blanket for your baby brother.”

“You’re trying to… What?” Megumi is even more confused than before. Since when does Toji do this– Toji isn’t sentimental nor fluffy enough to do this. Megumi knows his dad better than anyone, and he’s sure that he has to call an exorcist because his father has been possessed by a… Cutesy demon. 

“What?! I’m trying to be a good dad and this is how you treat me! For your information, I helped your mother out with your baby blanket and I want to do the same for my second son!” Toji raises his voice, and that’s the father that Megumi knows. Megumi immediately knows that his father only watched over as his mother made his blanket, but it’s nice to see his father trying since when he shared the news of your pregnancy, Toji didn’t look all that excited. 

“Son? I thought we had the gender reveal party tomorrow.” Megumi asks, and Toji lets out a chuckle. 

“I know I’m having a son, I know better than anyone my seed-” Toji begins and when Megumi gets an idea of what his father is about to say, Megumi covers his ears.

“Oh that’s so gross! I’m leaving.” Megumi puts on the video that his father requested before throwing the remote on the couch and leaving. Toji lowers his glasses to focus on the TV. Why the hell is he fucking doing this again? This looks like he’s going to be hell.

It’s for his son, right… And to make you happy, and show you that he cares.

You felt odd when Toji suggested you do a gender reveal for your baby, but regardless you agreed. It’s nice to see him care about what’s going on, and see that he’s finally let go of the idea of using the baby as a means to get back together and he genuinely cares about the baby now. Toji genuinely seems… excited, if that’s the right word for it.

The small gathering is at Toji’s apartment, and it’s no more than five people. Excluding you, Toji and Megumi, of course. Shiu is in charge of the reveal, so of course he’s invited, and along are some friends that both you and Toji have. 

You’re not all that excited about the gathering, although you can say that you’re happy with the idea that he came up with. It’s thoughtful, you think. Especially from him. You try not to think that he has any ill intent behind his actions. Your Toji wouldn’t. But then again, maybe you don’t know Toji as much as you think you do.

You wear a cute pink dress that accentuates your growing bump. It’s definitely more noticeable now since you’re five months along. At first you felt a bit insecure about it, but you’ve grown to love it. You take every chance to show it off. You grow more and more impatient with each passing day.

You hope that any and all questions are about your pregnancy, and not about the fact that you and Toji aren’t together anymore. A lot of questions have come up, but you manage to dismiss them every time since you’re just talking through the phone. You’re not sure how you’ll handle it in person though, you just know that you’re not really in the mood to talk much about… Anything that’s not baby related.

“Hi, Megumi.” You smile at the teenager that opens the door for you, allowing you inside Toji’s apartment. You notice his pink shirt, one that matches the color of your dress.

Maybe you read the time wrong because when you enter, everyone that was invited is inside. It feels as if the spotlight is on you as you walk in, and it feels nothing short than awkward. They’re all your friends, and they want to approach you, but before they can, Toji walks over to you. Toji hugs you before caressing your bump, and kissing your cheek, which maybe you should call him out on but you don’t want to really say it in front of everyone, and maybe you don’t mind it as much as you should. 

You notice his blue shirt and you smile at him, slightly tilting your head to the side before asking, “You still think it’s a boy?”

“I know it’s a boy.” Toji says, causing you to chuckle. Toji doesn’t want to let go of you, but you feel all eyes on you, plus you have to greet your friends. You’re sort of the star of the show.

“Give her some space. She doesn’t want you all over her right now.” Shiu stops Toji from following you around. Toji frowns, but decides to listen to his friend. Instead, they begin to set out the cake that Shiu got, making sure everything is ready for the big reveal.

Toji keeps his eye on you, cringing at everyone that puts their hand on your bump. You seem to be fine with it, so he shouldn’t really care but he still does. After maybe ten minutes, he clears his throat and suggests, “Should we do the reveal?”

“I haven’t even gotten to eat anything yet.” You respond. You’re dying to know the sex of the baby though, so you stand up to walk to the table where the cake is. You want a girl, but you wouldn’t mind having a baby boy either– Toji swears that it’s a boy though, he has sworn it since your last ultrasound.

“You can eat something after. Let’s get the main event going.” Toji sounds impatient, maybe because he’s tired of you talking to other people that aren’t him. He thinks that after the reveal you’ll be by his side, not thinking that everyone will want to talk to you even more.

“You also think it’s a boy, Shiu?” You ask the man who wears a blue shirt, similar to Toji’s, as you grab the knife to cut the cake. You’re convinced it’s a boy at that moment because Shiu knows the gender of the baby. He ends up shrugging.

“Ignore his ugly ass, let’s get this going. Come here if you want to see!” Toji yells, growing even more impatient. He just wants to confirm that it’s a boy and kick everyone out– Except you, he wants you all to himself. 

“We’re not in a rush, Toji.” You tell him as you take a finger to taste some of the frosting on the cake. You make sure everyone is gathered around, before telling Toji to grab on to the knife as well so you can cut through it together. You cut through the cake, and Toji gets the biggest smile on his face when he sees the blue icing inside the cake. He makes sure everyone sees it, and he has to announce,

“It’s a boy! What did I say?!” Toji makes sure everyone hears that he was, in fact, right. Toji then engulfs you in a hug, kissing your forehead and all over your face again and again. You smile, hugging Toji back. All eyes are on you, and you know they’re confused as to why he’s so affectionate with you, and you’re wondering the same thing. But you understand he’s happy about his baby boy, and so are you.

“Um…” Shiu clears his throat, and Toji rolls his eyes. Why does Shiu want to ruin this sweet moment? Toji doesn’t pull away from the hug, glaring at Shiu. Shiu bites down his bottom lip before saying, “They got the color wrong. You two are having a baby girl.”

“Huh?” Both you and Toji respond in unison, but there’s a huge smile on your face while Toji is just… Confused. You were happy with a boy, of course, but you really wanted a baby girl.

“You’re messing with me, right?” Toji asks, refusing to let go of you. You’re expecting for a frown or a look of disappointment to spread across his face, but it doesn’t. He looks confused… Worried.

“No, man. You’re having a girl.” Shiu confirms, and you feel awkward. You poke Toji’s cheek and he looks down at you. You smile at him before telling him,

“Cheer up. I know you don’t like to be wrong–” You begin but Toji interrupts you. He kisses your forehead.

“I’m happy.” He reassures you, and it sounds sincere. He’ll just need some time to get adjusted to the idea of having a baby girl.

You end up serving the cake, giving a slice to everyone before getting your own and taking a seat beside a friend. Toji doesn’t really care to eat a slice of the cake, what he cares for is pulling Shiu off to the side. Shiu tries to eat his slice, and Toji almost slaps Shiu’s hand. Shiu clears his throat before asking, “What?”

“Really? What? You had one job and you fucked it up. Now I look like a fucking asshole that’s more excited about having a boy than a girl.” Toji begins, and Shiu shrugs. It wasn’t his fault, maybe Toji should’ve reacted differently. “Are you trying to ruin my chances of getting back with my wife or what? I swear, I’ll kill you.”

“It was an honest mistake, Toji. Stop overreacting.” Shiu says before walking away, making Toji let out the biggest sigh. He looks over at Megumi, who seems to be happy with the fact that he’s having a baby sister, he should be at the very least since he’s wearing a pink shirt.

Toji takes a deep breath before walking over to you, taking a seat beside you, joining you and your friend. She doesn’t mean to pry but she can’t help but ask, “Are you two–”

“None of your business.” Toji cuts her off before she can even get the question out, which you’re thankful for. The answer is no, you’re not getting back together but you don’t want to talk about it. You also don’t want to talk about how overly affectionate your ex-husband is with you, and how you don’t call him out on it because you like it.

“So… How do you two feel about having a girl?” Your friend asks, and you smile, putting your hand on your bump.

“Excited. I wish for a healthy baby above all but I really want a girl.” You answer. “How about you, Toji?”

“I’m excited as well.” Toji doesn’t really sound excited though. He’s more worried, he doesn’t know how to raise a girl– But right now he keeps thinking of the baby blanket that he needs to start over. Thankfully, he didn’t get too far with it.

[muddyorbsblr]

bigger than the whole sky [rtc what if…?]

'relinquish the crown' masterlist See my full list of works here!

BE WARNED SPOILERS FOR THE LOKI SEASON 2 FINALE AHEAD

Summary: What if…you'd broken Frigga's memory spell without Loki? | Your search for your husband leads you to a peculiar void beyond the Nine Realms, to a place that vaguely resembles the Tree of Life that you'd only read about in historical texts.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: angst with no happy ending in sight; this is in the RTC universe so…themes of incest if you squint; Loki S2 finale spoilers; slight violence in the beginning [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: gonna repeat it again…Loki S2 finale spoilers ahead; no prior reading of RTC is required to suffer enjoy reading this story

"I will ask you one final time, you sadistic hedonist," you panted, taking a moment to lean on Stormbreaker while the eccentric tyrannical leader of Sakaar laid bleeding on the ground. One hand clutched his abdomen where you'd struck him, the other gingerly held his broken nose.

This wasn't something that you enjoyed doing, putting others through pain. But knowing Loki's history with this Grandmaster long before you two had met was easing your worry somehow that you were doing something reprehensible. There were pains that your beloved, even after all the time you'd known each other prior to your betrothal and marriage, were not quite ready to share with you.

His time in Sakaar was among those pains.

That knowledge alone was enough to get you to stop catching your breath, marching over to the Grandmaster and pinning him to the ground with the end of your battle axe's handle.

"Where is Loki?"

"Lady, I already told you back in the viewing box, I haven't seen your u--Agh!" You pressed Stormbreaker's handle harder against a tender spot on his shoulder, his body visibly showing signs of surrender before he started tapping on the floor. "Alright I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whined.

"Shall we try this again, then?" He did his best to nod his head, sighing heavily. "Where did you last see him?"

"I swear to you on my Champion's grave it's been millions of years for me here in Sakaar," he choked out, still audibly struggling to draw in his breath. "It was a time he didn't even know you yet. You probably hadn't even been born."

"So you truly bear no knowledge of my husband's whereabouts?"

"Your hus--I thought he was--"

"Mind your words, charlatan god." He let out another groan of pure agony as you pressed harder on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry! I--I really don't know where he is, Your Highness, I don't--"

"Then what use are you to me," you said darkly, another corner of your soul feeling ass if the lights had gone out. Another dead end.

You took a dagger out with your free hand, the Grandmaster's pleas of mercy sounding muffled as they fell on your dulled ears. Nothing he had to say could spare him now; to you, he was no longer a lead, a well lit path that could perhaps point you to where Loki had been all this time.

Now he was simply a shadow of your husband's past. Something so dark that he didn't even dare let you know about it.

Despair began to seep into your veins, a single question overtaking all other remotely coherent thought. Would you ever find him? Would you ever get to apologize? To tell him how you felt? How you'd always felt?

Before you could strike, a loud crack resounded throughout the Grandmaster's suite, coming from a glowing green portal that appeared in the center of the room.

"I would probably take that call, if I were you," the Grandmaster quipped, exhaling a large sigh of relief when you removed the weight of Stormbreaker off of him as you stepped toward the portal. Once the threshold had begun to close after you stepped through, he let out a final sentiment. "Please say hello to your husband for me when you find him."

That was more than enough for you to decide throwing your dagger into the small opening that remained, hitting the smug anachronistic bastard on his uninjured shoulder.

Then the portal finally closed, leaving you in a place you couldn't quite describe. All you knew was that it felt like a place you should never have been allowed access to. A place that should be beyond you. Beyond anyone.

Winding, glowing vines surrounded you, each of them looked and sounded as if they were teeming with a life of its own. If you listened carefully you could hear voices. Your voices. Infinite iterations of them. But one rang clearer than every other in the entire space.

"Did I do something that angered the Norns so fiercely that they condemned me to love a man I could never have?"

"I know what it feels like to kiss him. To touch him. To be desired by him. And it's ripping me apart to know that I will never know that again."

"The people will look at this union and see it for what it is. Sinful. Shameful!"

You tried to block the memories out of your mind, of you begging your grandmother Queen Frigga to lock your memories away. Of arguing with your grandfather Odin and with your father Thor because they were signing your life away to marry Loki. Of the harsh words you spat at them all behind closed doors.

Of the day the lock on your mind finally broke, after finding your journals prior to the spell being cast chronicling how you'd fallen for the god despite your better judgment. The head-splitting agony of your memories reconciling and finding their place back in your mind.

An agony suffered in your lonesome while Loki was away on assignment.

You scrambled desperately to think of anything else, to follow along the path of the vines and hear something other than your own mistakes being echoed back at you. These desperate attempts made you realize that the vines converged in a structure that eerily resembled an image that you'd only learned about in your youth.

"Yggdrasil?" you whispered in awe, your feet bringing you closer still until you found a parting just large enough for one to squeeze through.

Once you'd finally freed yourself from the winding vines, all air left your lungs at the sight that greeted you. A golden throne at the heart of the tree. All the vines anchored to the man -- or God, rather -- seated in it.

Loki.

"You've left quite a trail of bodies in your wake throughout this quest of yours, little Princess," he spoke, not moving even a fraction from where he sat.

He gave you a soft smile, tears beginning to form in his eyes as he stared at you. As if he couldn't believe you were here with him.

"It's been too long, my darling wife."

You'd rehearsed time and time again throughout your search for your husband what you would say to him once you'd been reunited. You would tell him how wrong you were for how you behaved throughout your betrothal, your marriage. And you would abandon every shred of your pride and beg for his forgiveness. You would tell him you loved him, that you'd always loved him.

And that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

Yet somehow you could form none of those words. Instead you finally felt your body succumb to the tiredness brought about by the centuries you'd spent searching and laying waste to every imaginable corner of the Nine Realms and beyond for even the slightest shred of a clue as to where he could have been.

Instead you sunk to your knees, the tears streaming down your face as you stumbled over your words. "I remember everything. I had to find you. Tell you that I'm--"

"I know you are, my love. I watched you on the day the spell broke, the day you finally remembered. I wanted so desperately to come home to you. To not let you have to endure that pain alone."

"Why didn't you?" you blurted out, staring at all the vines he held in his hands. "What are all these?"

"Timelines," he answered you simply, giving you a minuscule shrug of his shoulders. "In every single one, there is an iteration of you and me. Some circumstances may differ, minor details. But at the heart of each of them, we live a life together. We find each other, fall in love. In some we even start a family."

"A family," you repeated breathlessly. The knowledge that each vine -- each timeline -- that was anchored to him held a variation of you and him, of your story, began to eat away at you, flooding you with guilt.

How wretched did you have to be that in your timeline you'd rejected him? Foolishly pushed him away with every mistake you made until finally it took you centuries to find him again?

"What happened?" you finally spoke after what felt like hours. "How did you get--"

"That is quite the long and harrowing tale, darling. In truth, it was a cavalcade of miscalculations and bad judgment calls, failed attempts of trying to save all these lives until I realized that the result would always stay the same if the equation contained the same variables."

"And what was that result?"

"Annihiliation," he answered you simply, giving you a misty eyed look. "Every single strand of time that I hold safe now would have been obliterated on sight. I know it. I've seen it. I've seen you disintegrate before me too many times than I wish to count. The device that once held them stable could no longer scale for an infinite number of possibilities, and letting countless timelines die in the name of the survival of a few was…unacceptable. The only thing that could carry a burden that great was--"

"A god," you finished, the words fighting you their entire way out, nearly choking you on the weight of them. The question that you wished to raise crippled you with its answer's implications. For you and your timeline specifically. "What happens if you let go?"

"It dies. Slowly. Drifts away until it eventually turns to ash." He began to make a motion, as if to approach you, until ultimately he decided against it. "This was the only way. It remains the only way. I must stay, and keep them safe. Watch our lives play out in derivatives of what ifs."

The selfish question that danced at the tip of your tongue plagued you with even more guilt. But what about my timeline? What about our life together? "There has to be another way," you grumbled, stubbornly shaking your head as if you were once again a toddler, refusing to accept the world for being what it was rather than what you wished it would be. "I could stay with you. I could stay and we can find a way together."

Your heart splintered watching him shake his head at you. "My beautiful headstrong wife," he breathed out, his tone filled with both fondness and heartbreak. "I can't in my good conscience let you abandon your life just so you could stay here with me. That would be too selfish, even for me. What would you have here?"

"You! I would have you. All these centuries I've spent in a desperate scramble to find you and tell you that I lo--" You found yourself completely choking on the words now, never having to articulate them before. "That I love you. That I've always loved you and I want us to start our lives together. I refuse to accept that after all this time I have to let you go. You can't make me."

"Asgard needs you, its future Queen."

"And I need you!" Your voice finally broke, sobs that you'd fought inside starting to bubble up. "It isn't fair that you hold all these different tellings of our story in your hands, but your story, yours and mine, ends in us apart. That you spend your days here, watching our life play out somewhere and somewhen else, and you're alone. Please don't send me away, husband," you began to beg. "Don't make me leave you. Let me stay."

He let out a sharp exhale, a tear escaping his eye, rolling down his cheek. "I've longed for the day I would hear you call me that," he sighed, a rueful smile gracing the handsome features that you were bereft of for centuries. "Truly I didn't think I would ever see you again, Y/N. My Y/N. I never thought that I would have you before me, and I hear those words you would only say in dreams with my own ears. Thank you, my dear heart. You have given me a gift in this quest of yours, in having a final moment with the woman I love…" More tears rolled down his cheeks when his smile widened before finishing his sentiment. "And the woman that loves me."

Your sobs filled the endless space, your body collapsing onto the ground as your grief overtook you. The notion of grieving for the living never seemed sensical to you until now. Now that the man, the god, you loved was calling this the last time you would ever see each other.

And you knew in your heart that with the power he wielded now, he could make that your reality without even lifting a finger. He could push you out of this void and back into any timeline of his choosing just as easily as he pulled you out of Sakaar.

The feel of familiar large hands pulling you up to your feet startled you, only having the briefest moment to look at your husband before he pulled you into a crushing embrace. You didn't think twice before wrapping your arms around him, holding him as close as you could and sobbing into his shoulder before realizing…

If his hands were on you, then why were the vines still in place?

"Loki," you sobbed. "Husband, please. No illusions."

"I can't hold you," he said, choking back his own sobs now. "I couldn't watch you break like this and do nothing." The duplicate he cast to hold you disappeared from your hold in a flash of green. "I've done it before against all my better judgment, I refuse to do it again."

"Then don't." Against your own better judgment, you stomped your foot, like a bratty child being told you had to go home. Which was almost precisely what this was. "If this is where you are and where you will remain, then this is where I wish to stay. With the god that owns my heart. With my husband." You blinked rapidly to expel the tears that blurred your vision before uttering the words that splintered at your heart even more. "I was made to be yours. You said that."

"And I yours," he finished, averting his gaze, letting his own tears drop to the fabric of  his trousers. "In every timeline. We must take solace in knowing that among these infinite tales, one is ours. What could have been ours."

"What should be ours," you insisted. You made your way over to him, placing your hand on the side of his face. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, the sight breaking your heart further. "Our story deserves its bliss-laden epilogue, too."

"Not at the cost of everyone else's. Deep down you know this to be true."

"That does not mean I accept it," you grumbled. "Let me stay."

"You know that I can't. I will not subject you to live out the rest of your days here. Without friends nor family, and only a husband that cannot even hold you as company."

"But at least you would have someone to hold you," you argued, throwing your arms around him and letting your tears flow once more. "I can't just leave you here all on your own. You can't make me." You knew that he damn right could.

"My love," he sighed, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. "I wish for you to live a long, and fulfilled life. You've lost so much time in your search for me only for it to end like this. I can give you those centuries back, as a final gift. Reverse the clock, undo the toll it took on you. Let this be the final token of my affection. My fealty. My undying vow."

"Let me keep my memories," you pleaded, already feeling that this would truly be your final moments with him. You did not need to turn your gaze to know that the portal leading back to Asgard was there, waiting for you. Perhaps he would simply nudge you through with his mind, knowing that you would refuse to leave. "Let me keep my remnants of you if that is all that I can leave this place with."

He nodded once. "Very well, little Princess. When you walk through the portal only the physical years will be stripped away. Live well, and remember always that I love you. My heart will only ever belong to you. Until the end of time."

"I love you," you choked out through your tears. "Husband." Your heart ached at the sight of his tears, not bothering to fight back the urge to kiss them away. "I will miss you desperately and always. In every step that I must take in this life without you."

"You will always have me by your side," he swore. "When you feel a presence you cannot see, in gentle breezes within a still room. I will always be there."

You continued to wipe his tears away, the god constantly kissing at your palms. Seemingly refusing to let you go, too.

"May I kiss you?" you asked, barely audibly, your voice unable to even completely form the words. "One last time?"

He gave you a small nod, and you leaned in to press your lips to his, trying to pour out your years of lost time and the future that you were doomed to lose in just a few short moments into that single kiss. You could feel that when he kissed you back, he did so with both all the love he'd never been able to give you before, and the love that he would never be able to bestow in the future.

It was a kiss of finality. A kiss of goodbye. A bittersweet final page in the story of you and Loki.

I love you more than words can ever say, his voice echoed in your mind. Goodbye, my love. My fated. My darling wife.

When you pulled away he was gone. And you'd been returned to your shared chambers back in Asgard. As he promised, the physical toll the centuries-long search had taken on your body were gone. No more scars from miscalculated skirmishes. No more bruises from Sakaar.

No more physical reminders of what you'd endured trying to reunite with the love your life.

All that remained were the memories of those years, and your time in his domain beyond the Realms.

"Goodbye, my darling husband. My love. My Loki," you whispered into the quiet of your marital chambers, sinking to your knees once more and letting out a shriek of pure agony, the sobs swiftly returning and wracking your entire body as you lay pathetically on the floor.

"Y/N??"

The sound of your mother Lady Sif's voice provided little comfort, but it felt like a familiar balm. "Mother," you said weakly, unmoving from your spot on the ground even as she rushed to you, cradling you in her lap.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" She stroked your hair while your tears soaked her sleep dress. You felt her wave someone over, and moments later you felt your grandmother Queen Frigga's presence in the room with you.

"I lost. I lost and I know not what to do now," you managed to say through your tears.

"What did you lose, Daughter?"

You'd briefly considered explaining your journey, from breaking the spell, to your journey through the centuries, to Loki's domain beyond the reach of space and time. To relay what had become of your husband.

Ultimately the words were beyond you due to your grief.

"Everything," you answered her, holding on to her tight as if you were a child again. This would be the only semblance of comfort you would have. "I lost everything."

A/N: I had to after that finale had me processing and feeling the big sad all day, I promise I'm working on 2 other stories based on the finale that have kinda better endings.

Also I sobbed throughout writing this entire thing, just for the record.

Now here's the song to add to the vibe:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

[sommerbueckers]

My Brother's Best Friend

I sat quietly on my couch; my phone lay cold and forgotten next to me as I watched the pair in front of me bicker. Paige sat on the floor, her back turned to the tv as she faced the arm of the couch where my brother was sitting. Her elbows rested on her knees, loose strands of hair falling from her bun and framing her frowning face.

"Dude, you're actually insane," she shook her head, "No way Batman is better than Spiderman."

My brother scoffed, "Yes the fuck he is! Anytime he was in a fight he was using the shit around him, Spiderman's a fucking rookie."

Paige's frowned deepened, "Batman's a fucking vigilante! He's boring, old, and all his movies suck! Spiderman can spin webs out his fucking ass but Batman is so cool because he's got a fast car?!"

"Oh my fuck!" Micha yelled in frustration, "You don't get it."

"You're right, I don't" Paige shrugged.

"You're reasons lack stability. Spiderman is an ass-kisser so of course everyone is going to love him, Batman does what he needs to do to get shit done" Micha said.

Paige threw her head back in frustration, "That's the fucking problem! Batman will kill anyone and everyone if it means he gets to save the fucking city!"

Micha pressed his lips together, his head snapping toward me.

"Summer, a little help here?" he asked.

I shook my head with an amused smile, "I'm good, y'all are entertaining."

Paige sighed and got up from the floor, plopping herself down in the spot next to me as she grabbed the remote from my hand.

"We're not finished" my brother said.

"I am" Paige responded cooly.

I stifled my laugh as I heard a grunt come from my brother. He stood from the arm of the couch and seated himself across the room on the other couch. Paige and I shared an amused expression, butterflies erupting in my stomach as her leg nudged mine.

I took subtle glances at her as she flicked through the movies, trying to find one all three of us would enjoy. Her nose was a perfect little slope and slightly pointed at the end, her jawline had gotten noticeably sharper since I had last seen her. She had gotten taller, blonder, hotter. I suppose college did that to a person, made them so undeniably irresistible that you became embarrassed by just the thought of it.

Paige and I had hooked up (if you could even call it that) one time two years ago in the bathroom upstairs. It hadn't been something I liked to remember, the moment could only be described as awkward or cringeworthy. I wondered if thats how she thought of it too, I wondered if she thought of it at all.

"How's school?" the blonde asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I shrugged plainly, "It's weird without you two there" I admitted, nodding my head toward my brother.

"Hmm" she nodded, her eyes not leaving mine. "I heard you're the captain of the cheer team now" she said, a smile creeping onto her face.

I couldn't stop the cheek aching smile that crossed my face, "Paige that happened months ago."

"Yeah, but I wasn't here months ago to personally congratulate you" she said. "So congratulations Sunny."

Paige ruffled my curls.

"Thank you P" I laughed.

"Put on The Fate of the Furious" Micha chimed in as Paige scrolled past it.

She obliged, clicking backwards on the remote and pressing 'Play.'

I could tell her attention wasn't fully on the movie; she kept shifting around in her seat. First it was her legs, she spread them out far enough to where our knees touched. Then it was her arms, "I think something's wrong with my shoulder" she had said as she massaged it a bit before resting it over the back of the couch. I felt her hand gently play with my hair, her touch soft as she twisted and untwisted the strands with her fingers.

I couldn't stop myself from leaning into her, my side beginning to hurt from the awkward angle I twisted myself at to feel her closer. We knew what we were doing, even if we'd both excuse it as nothing more than two friends trying to get comfortable, I knew hoped it was more than that.

DO WE LIKE THIS OR NAH ???

INSPO PICS FOR SUNNY BBY☀️

[leclsrc]

3k celeb toimeee ~_~ darting eyes with pregnant reader and best friends lily and alex please? love u mother

guessing game – ...?

Your two closest friends scramble to guess who got you knocked up.

auds here... hi love u didnt specify who u want the baby daddy to be... so i spun it into something of the sort bahaha

Alex finds the plastic positive test first, on the floor of his bathroom. On instinct, he literally screams for Lily, who rushes over to him and tells him it’s not hers, and for a minute Alex thinks oh Christ, is it mine? It’s only after Lily slaps his shoulder that they begin thinking of who might own it, thinking it’d really only belong to the only other person they love enough to let pee in their flat.

In a flurry of panic, they ransack the place trying to find you (it’s a three bedroom, so not too much ransacking is done, really) and eventually find peace when they peek into the rooftop deck and find you watching the overcast, dreary city with a blank expression on your face. You turn when you hear their footsteps on the cement, features softening instantly.

“You freaked us out,” Lily says, but she’s hugging you tight. “Alex saw it.”

“I thought it was mine for a second,” he says, earning himself another light shove. You laugh, but it doesn’t really hold with your anxiety, your anticipation, your nerves. You know, you can feel their burning questions creeping up on you, but they hold back for your sake.

“Are you okay?” Alex adds, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You sigh, shrugging.

“Sure. I’m keeping it, I guess. I’m just nervous. I haven’t even told the d—” Your voice hitches into silence, and you purse your lips. “Yeah.”

You can tell they’re absolutely dying to ask you who it is, but you don’t want to speak it aloud.

It’s just because when you do, it’ll feel so much more real. So real, so damning, once there’s a name to the mysterious figure, once they know who he is. But they’re your best friends, and just based on their eyebrows furrowing and eyes darting millimeter to millimeter, you can pick up on their inner monologues, their musings, and the theories they will no doubt share to one another over dinner or beer when you’re gone.

—

“Paul.” Lily says, tossing the stuffed bear to her boyfriend. He takes it and holds it, humming contemplatively. “Alex, it’s him. That’s the last guy she slept with, like, four weeks ago. And they did it twice I think.”

“Yeaaaaah, but. Yeesh. Paul?” He grimaces, face souring as if he’d just eaten a lemon wedge. “He was ugly.”

She laughs. “Then it means our best friend is going to have an ugly baby. Throw me the bear.”

“Oh—aha! Ahhh-ha! It can’t be Paul, she was in California last month, remember?! She had that whole work thing. And he was in Europe. Can’t make a baby over Skype, now can you.” He pumps his eyebrows and throws the bear, satisfied with his rebuttal as he watches his girlfriend stutter for her own. 

“Maybe she had a one night stand with someone in California?” Lily hums. “Did you know anyone who was there last month?”

She pouts to herself, deep in thought. She’s worried for you, above all, but she can’t knock the curiosity out of herself. It seems weird that neither she or her boyfriend are even remotely able to pinpoint the guy’s identity at once, mostly because they both know you so well. Lily especially, because you’re not in the business of spilling hookup secrets to Alex (he gets wind of it via Lily instead), and she had herself convinced she’d heard almost all of it.

“No, I didn’t see anything. Lots of drivers were on off-time last month, so it was all personal trips. But if she got knocked up a bit before L.A., she did go to that gala where a few drivers were hanging out, too.” He makes grabby hands for the bear, but Lily holds it out of reach, still confused and lost in thought.

She was so sure it was Paul—he was the only guy you told her about over the last few months. Sure, there were flings, but they were terribly short-lived, and that was only because you’re not one to date for a while. “The timeline doesn’t add up, but. Okay, who was there?”

“Um. Charles, and Carlos.”

“So it might be them.”

“Yeah, but slim chance.”

Grumbling, she tosses the bear back. “You win,” she sighs. “We’ll see. I’m totally blanking.”

“So am I,” Alex responds, evidently bummed.

—

Yuki hosts birthday dinner with the people on the grid he can “tolerate,” he said, which of course started with Pierre and Nyck, seated on either side of the celebrant. Plus ones are allowed, so Alex brought Lily, too, and Yuki loves you too much to discount you from the guest list, so the three of you are sitting next to each other. Charles, and Lando occupy the last two seats.

“Remember that gala you went to last month?” Lily asks in faux-nonchalance.

“Oh, yeah. Carlos and I had way too much vodka that time, like jeeez.” You make a face of disgust.

Alex squeezes Lily’s hand so hard she has to contain a squeal. They’ve got you pinned.

—

An hour into the dinner, your eyes begin to dart back and forth, breaths leaving you in quiet little huffs, which is your easiest tell—you’re nervous. Anticipatory. Bumbling. Sometime after the collective effort of teaching Pierre how to use chopsticks and watching the wooden utensil fly away and into the restaurant’s open aquarium, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

Immediately, your departure sends Alex and Lily into sleuth mode again. 

She extracts a pen from her purse and clicks it a few times, reviewing the facts. One, you haven’t told the dad yet, you said, which means there’s no awkward air between the two of you. Two, it’s someone on the paddock, or someone friends with someone on the paddock (the only clue you told them, and a really useless one considering how big social circles run in racing).

Its Carlos? she writes on a napkin, passing it to Alex.

DUNNO…. Maybe is the response. How bout Yuki? “What’s your birthday wish, Yukino?” Lando asks as she writes; Lily makes an attempt to look engaged but half-fails, eyes trained on her written words.

Are u crazy she scribbles. Lando?

“To travel outside of work,” Yuki says. “Be by myself, or with a friend. Taste food everywhere.” She wouldnt sleep with him if he paid her, Alex writes furiously quickly after paying the driver a long, scrutinizing glance.

“I heard of a cool place somewhere in Vietnam,” Lily chimes in to seem involved, but she doesn’t look up from her writing. Ok… so it’s not a driver?

She passes it to Alex and looks up. “They sell the best pho.”

“If you like Asian food, mate, Nobu is good, too,” Charles offers, smiling.

Alex passes the tissue, now worn thin with the writing, back. Idk. I bet it is tho. Doobius. She reads over it a few times in a cross between amusement and what she can only describe as being totally weirded out.

ITS DUBIOUS, she corrects, and for good measure she underlines the U several times. They’re losing the plot, distracted.

“I only hear the best about that place,” Nyck quips. “What Nobu did you go to?”

SORRY IM NOT AN EXPERT MISS HE

“California, in L.A.”

I dont think theres a single word spelled like that Alex

Pierre makes a curious noise. “Los Angeles? I didn’t know you went there, mate. When?”

Ok miss expert comes the funny reply.

“Last month,” Charles says.

Youre such a di

She pauses as she writes, waiting for herself to piece together why his sentence means so much. Nobu. California. L.A.

Last month.

The words register, click in her mind. In unison, Alex and Lily’s wide eyes immediately snap up to Charles’ relaxed figure, and he notices, laughing a bit nervously. No way, they’re thinking. The answer’s dropped right into their laps.

Now visibly stuffy, Charles smiles politely. “What is going on?”

“You—!” Alex raises a finger, ready to make his epiphany verbal in his fit of excitement, but at the last moment spots you walking back in, dabbing your lip gloss in place. He deflates. “Y—you, you—are a fan of sushi?!”

Charles blinks. “Um… sure.”

Lily makes a show of happiness. “That’s great!” she chirps, laughing phonily. “So great!”

Alex nods along. “So great, so great!”

You slide into your seat, smiling. “Hi. What’s so great?”

“Oh,” Lily says, laughing smugly and meeting your eyes. “Oh, you have no idea.”

[waldau]

husband — lee seokmin | 1,220 words | fluff

this one is dedicated to lee seokmin's smile :)

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

"no."

"what do you mean, no?" dokyeom asks, manspreading. the exasperated eyebrow raise you give him doesn't deter him in the least.

"no, i'm not sitting on your lap to watch a movie."

"there's not much place on this sofa, though," he says, spreading his arms along the back of the sofa to emphasize his point. he really can take up a lot of space if he wants to.

"the floor is all free real estate, as far as i can tell."

"there's no way i'm letting my sweetheart sit on the floor when i'm on the couch."

"this is how your sweetheart can do it," you say, simply sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of him and fumbling with the remote to find some good movie. you barely have two seconds of peace before he scoops you up in his arms and pulls you onto himself, so you're exactly where you said you wouldn't be.

"dokyeom."

he gasps. "my whole name?"

"be thankful i didn't call you seok—"

"can't hear you," he says loudly, one hand coming up to your mouth to stop you from saying his real name. you shut up for a second.

"ew," he says a moment later, taking his hand away from your mouth like it's on fire. "you licked it!"

"be thankful i didn't bite it."

"i'm thankful for you! isn't that enough?" he whines, hand returning to its place around your stomach.

your retort dies on your lips. you're still not used to how open dokyeom is with his words.

"i guess," you say. the remote lies forgotten on the floor.

"so," he says, turning you to face him, "why don't you want to sit on me?"

"i paid for this sofa, silly. i should be able to sit on it if i want to."

"but you know you don't have to pay anything for me. i mean, unless you want to," he adds with a sleazy wink, and it makes you laugh.

"what about functionality?"

"what about it?"

"the sofa's soft. sitting on you is like sitting on a rock."

"all that workout and you call me a rock? at least i'm warm!"

"okay, but what about a headrest when i need one?"

dokyeom guides your head down to his chest. "how's this?"

"hm. your heart's beating a bit too fast."

"that's because you're so close to me."

you let out a fake groan. "why did i have to get stuck with the cheesiest husband in the world?"

the moment you actually hear your own words, even mortified doesn't begin to cover what you're feeling. dokyeom lowers you down to the sofa and sinks to the ground on his knees, looking at you like you've given him the best gift he could've ever asked for.

"stop looking at me like that," you say, but you're not trying to bury your face into the fabric of the sofa. part of you wants to know what he thinks about your words.

he has that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that's burned into your eyelids even when you close your eyes. it never fails to make you smile.

"i'm not looking at you like anything," he says, but one of his hands has snaked up to your face, tracing your cheek.

"you look like you're in love. it's embarrassing."

"you're the one that called me your husband. that's worse."

"is it?"

dokyeom looks at you with a softer smile before he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. you loop your hands around his neck, pulling him back in for more. you never do get enough of him, even on days you spend all twenty four hours by his side.

"i think," dokyeom says when he pulls back, having kissed you to the point where you've forgotten your name for a few moments, "being married to you would be the worst thing ever."

"yeah?" you ask, tugging him up to his feet and letting all his weight fall on you. it's not often that he lies on top of you, and you're reminded of how strong he really is.

"mm. you'd have to change your last name to match mine."

"what if i don't want to?"

"i could always take yours."

you smile. "oh? and how would the wedding be?"

"we could run away and get married, just the two of us."

"and what, have seungkwan curse us for the rest of his life?"

"our lives," he corrects, propping his chin up on your chest. "we could have a beach wedding, though. or a wedding at our dining table."

"who'd be your best man?"

dokyeom shudders. "not facing that headache till we actually get to it. your turn. what kind of a ring do you want?"

you pretend to think. "an adamantium one."

"funny," he deadpans. "i was thinking we could get married on the moon."

"you were thinking about marrying me?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

"isn't that what we've been talking about all this while?"

"what else would be terrible about being married to me?"

dokyeom is the one who pretends to think now, his chin digging into your collarbone. not that you mind. "i'd want to be around you all the time. i'd make you call me your husband every time we meet someone. i'd spend so much time trying to find houses we'd like. terrible, no?"

you press a kiss to his forehead. "horrifying. would you marry me if i asked you to, right now?"

he looks at you for a moment more before hiding his face in your neck. "i hid something in the knife drawer that says yes," he says, voice muffled.

"the knife drawer?" you ask. "of all the places you could possibly..." dokyeom really does have the annoying ability to steal your breath, both with his kisses and words; your words dry up when you realize what exactly 'something' means.

"i learned it from the boys," he says, looking at you again, all proud. "you never know where to expect the mafia to hide their money."

you're not listening to him. it's the way he says it so easily. you were just joking about it, not even intending to say it, but the fact that he's had it in there since who knows when...

"kyeom, has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

dokyeom looks up at you with wide eyes. "are you saying that just because i have a ring for you?"

you snort, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "no, silly. i love you. i know i don't say it enough."

"you don't need to," he says, gentle. "i know you do."

both of you lie like that for a while, your hand gently scraping through his hair.

"so if i ask you to marry me right now..." you say again, because you just want to hear his voice.

"ten more minutes and that ring is yours. but it's not adamantium."

"what a shame."

you can feel his grin against your skin. "what did we even want to watch?"

you can't be bothered to remember. "i don't know, but i want to watch you."

dokyeom snorts. "stop trying to be cheesier than your own husband."

you don't think you're ever going to tire of hearing that.

[britcision]

So I’ve been thinking about cultural Christianity lately and how people tend to get very upset about it without really understanding what it is, so here is a primer

Cultural Christianity is not a choice you make. It does not mean you are Christian, or even that you remotely like Christianity; a lot of people who vehemently hate the religion do so because of their own cultural Christianity

It is not a shortcoming, or a moral failing, or a sin. It just means that the culture you were raised in was predominantly Christian.

Note: I did not say “majority Christian”. Christians don’t need to be a majority to have a dominant cultural influence

Cultural Christianity means you inherently understand and probably use swearwords like “damn”, “hell”, or a variation on the name “Jesus Christ”

It means when I say cultural Christianity is not a sin, you understand exactly what I mean without needing to have it explained - and you probably know the phrase “original sin” or “seven deadly sins”, even if not in full detail

It means hearing about Hades, god of the dead, wealth, and volcanoes, and assuming he’s the bad guy of Greek mythology… y’know, like Satan

(EVERYONE went to Hades when they died. The Elysian Fields, where the best heroes went, was in Hades’ underworld. The Eleusinian mysteries, a cult to Demeter and Persephone, was basically about asking them to tell Hades to give you a cool afterlife

And he would cuz he drank his “respect wife” juice if not all of his “respect women” juice. Did still kidnap her. But she is a major feature and often makes the decision herself or influences his when they’re mentioned together

Meanwhile, people try and cast Zeus as a good parent)

It means having to have a dreidel, a menorah, or a kinara explained to you at a time when you already knew about Christmas trees and Santa

(Yes, Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas, major host of the Mass of Christ, is culturally Christian. Even though Coke invented his aesthetic - that’s the “cultural” part)

It’s when you go to make up a new non-religious or pan religious winter celebration… that is centred around a day with family and gifts which is obviously the 25 of December. Maybe counting down 12 days before

It’s defaulting to calling a place of worship you don’t know the name of a “church”

Cultural Christianity is not something people have a choice in; you don’t pick where you’re born, and there are so many other cultures in places like Canada, America, and Britain that are culturally Christian out the ass! But… you will catch Contact Christianity in any of these places

It’s damn near impossible to consume any American or most Western media without brushing across it; cross imagery is everywhere, Christian demons and devils sneak into media all around the world

Western (and some other) Gothic fashion leans heavily on gothic architecture and, yeah, heavily Catholic imagery

Now, brushing across the media in other parts of the world does not impart the same level of cultural Christianity as growing up in a city with four churches on a single block and a Santa Claus parade

And you can grow up heavily in an entirely different culture even in the Bible Belt (but you know what Bible Belt means); you don’t have to abandon all other culture just because Christianity has a chokehold on your home

But when December (or fucking November these days) hits and you hear Mariah Carey in 3/6 stores, yes, you probably have some cultural Christianity

You sure as hell don’t need to be able to name half the denominations (can you name more than 4?), you may never set foot in a Christian church in your life, and still have a cultural Christian influence

If your street names have “saint” in them

If there are crosses or angels on more than half the graves in a cemetery

If you know how to cross yourself but aren’t really sure when you learned; you didn’t look it up or do research to find out

Now note: none of these have an inherent moral judgement attached to them

It’s just about what the culture you live in has taught you about the world, and there’s no culture that is magically the Right One or better than the others

There’s no reason to expect even specifically Christian culture to be the same around the world; it isn’t. It has the same root, but what flowers from the soil is another matter entirely

There is nothing wrong with acknowledging that you have culturally Christian influences and biases; being human is 90% absorbing information from the world around us and half processing it at best - there’s just too much input, and intentionally filtering out Everything Christian Ever?

Well unless you started at 2 years old, odds are pretty good it’s not really a personal choice kinda thing

And you cannot compensate for these influences unless you acknowledge that they exist, that you did not choose to form them, and that you do get to choose how they affect your actions going forward

Christmas stuffed a bunch of other religious traditions into a single package to make itself popular, but if you learned them as Christmas traditions first… do I even need to say it?

[kaleldobrev]

In the Cover of the Night

Pairing: Felix Catton x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Felix Catton

Summary: Felix fingering you on the steps in the middle of the night

Word Count: 939

Warnings: Cursing (5x), Smoking (Brief), Smut (Fingering - Semi-Public) & Praise Kink (Implied)

Authors Note: Semi-public sex tag as this is taking place outside | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

There was a slight summer breeze as you sat out on the steps with a lit cigarette between your fingers, looking up at the almost full moon in the starry night sky. You were severely under dressed to be outside this time of night; only wearing one of Felix's light dress shirts with absolutely nothing else underneath, as it was the first piece of clothing you had managed to find from the scattering of clothes on yours and his floor from the needy and desperate sex the two of you engaged in after yet another Catton dinner party.

As you placed the cigarette into your mouth, you turned your attention to yours and Felix's bedroom; the darkness completely consuming the space — the moonlight trying it's best to make it's way into the room but ultimately failing because of the curtains completing covering the windows.

You heard footsteps coming from behind you, and you turned to see who it could be. Your first thought was Venetia as she would usually be the one to come and spend time with you this time of night; the two of you often enjoying staring up at the moon together. But it was Felix who was making his way toward you with an already lit cigarette in hand wearing just his robe and nothing else. "Were you peeping at me before you decided to come and join me?" You asked, as your boyfriend took a seat on the same steps your feet were placed on.

“For a bit. You look very tempting like this; couldn’t help myself,” he smiled, popping the cigarette between his lips.

"I was just having a little smoke and looking up at the moon. What's so tempting about me this way?" You asked as innocently as you possibly could while nonchalantly starting to part your legs, and putting out your cigarette on the steps.

You noticed his eyes starting to move from your own to your legs as he placed a single hand on your thigh, smirking as he did so. “You’re wearing one of my shirts with no panties on, love,” he stated. As he spoke, his hand moved up your thigh slowly, stopping at the hem of the dress shirt. “And you know how much I love fucking you in my clothes,” he added, keeping that signature smirk of his on his lips.

He removed the cigarette from between his lips, and put it out in a spot next to yours before his fingertips started to inch their way higher so they were completely underneath the shirt. He brushed them ever so slightly against your clit, and you were starting to get wet from the insanely brief contact that he was giving you. You used to be embarrassed by this, embarrassed by how turned on he had made you by barely doing anything; how instantly there would be such a pool between your legs the second he even remotely looked in your direction. But as time went on, you didn’t care, didn’t care because you knew how much he loved having this kind of effect on you, because you had the exact same effect on him.

“Always so ready for me,” he whispered; two fingers running up and down your clit. “Want to fuck you just like this,” he whispered again, his fingertips still teasing the outside.

“Then do it,” you stated; and his smirk grew even wider — you didn’t think it could get any wider. He didn’t say anything in response; he simply just started dipping his two fingers inside of you, starting to fill you with the sensation you always seemed to crave. Despite having sex with him only a few hours prior, you would never get tired of the feeling of him filling you up.

Your head automatically went back and you shut your eyes; but it was so brief as his other hand went to your jaw, making you focus on his face. His fingers went in deeper, slightly curling. “Lift up the shirt a little so you can look,” he said, an octave above a whisper. “Want you to see how beautiful you look like this.”

Without hesitation, you did as you were told, and lifted the hem of the shirt more, your pussy completely exposed out in the open as you watched his fingers disappearing and reappearing inside of you — the moonlight providing the most erotic looking type of light. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, and he finally leaned in to capture your lips; which caused his fingers to go even deeper inside of you. You moaned into his mouth as you kissed; his fingers starting to pick up the pace just only slightly. Your moans were so muffled, and that's one of the things he had loved when it came to fucking you like this out in the open. He loved how you tried so hard to remain quiet, but always failed.

You started to clench around him, and he smirked into the kiss. "Does my girl need to come?" He whispered in your ear; slightly nipping at your earlobe before starting to kiss your neck.

"Yes," you moaned out, as he continued to suck and kiss your neck — ultimately wanting to leave hickies on your skin.

"Then come," he said softly, his lips attaching themselves to your chest; almost peppering kisses just below your collarbone.

With a few more pumps, your whole body started to shudder as you came; but his movements didn't let up as he helped you ride out your orgasm. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he praised against your skin. He always praised you.

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[eddaawrites]

Flu season - Chris Sturniolo

A/n hey, so this is my first post which means I’m gonna need some constructive criticism. Don’t worry I’m the eldest granddaughter my feelings won’t be hurt. Also I wanted to start off chill so this is just some fluff of Chris taking care of you when you’re sick. I’m in love.

Warnings- tooth rotting fluff, reader is really sick (duh-doy) and no use of y/n.

Now without further ado-do (hah! I said doodoo), I present Christopher Owen Sturniolo.

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This is just not my day. First of all I went to sleep with a major headache, so I barely got any sleep tonight. Secondly I woke up with a fever so bad that I couldn’t even get myself out of bed and lastly I can’t find the remote to my tv so I’ve just been laying here like a cinder block all day while sweating like a pig.

I stare at the ceiling hoping I’d eventually just fall asleep, only to be interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing to my right. I groan rolling over to my side to check the contact, my heart fluttering at the sight of my boyfriend’s name. I grab my phone hitting answer and put the phone on speaker because I don’t have the energy to hold the phone.

I initiate the conversation to let him know I’m here. “Hey, you.” I croak, my voice sounding like I’ve smoked 20 packs a day since birth.

“Hi, baby” he answers “am I waking you up? You sound tired.” He asks. “No, I’m just a bit sick. Think I caught the flu or something. But what’s up?” I try to act fine but my voice betrays me.

“Are you sure you’re fine? You don’t sound too good. Do you want me to come over and cuddle you?” He asks completely ignoring my question.

“Yeah, baby I’m fine. And you probably shouldn’t come over, I’ve got 104 degrees and I smell like a rats ass.” I say, not wanting him to see me like this. He’s seen me sick before since we’ve been dating a while but not like this.

“Well that’s too bad.” I’m completely lost until I hear the turning of the lock of my apartment door and the faint sound of footsteps coming my direction. My door opens to reveal a gleaming Chris, holding my favourite flowers in one hand and a bag full to the brim with all my favourite foods.

I sit up pouting at him “how did I get so lucky?” He smiles handing me the flowers, setting the bag down and pressing his hand against my forehead to check my temperature, then sliding it down to rest against my cheek.

“Aw, you poor thing. You’re burning up” he says genuinely. “I’m gonna go run you a bath and I’ll be right back” he says pressing a kiss to my temple and pulling away.

“Man I really do smell bad, don’t I?” I say sarcastically, grinning from ear to ear as he walks to the bathroom. I hear him chuckle and then water running.

He comes back to the room reaching his hand out for me to grab. I grip it and he pulls me to my feet and I wobble a bit, blood rushing to my head after laying in bed all day. I then feel an arm at the back of my knees and under my right arm and suddenly I’m in the air, Chris carrying me bridal style to the bathroom.

He puts me down to sit on the toilet seat. I let him help me undress, not caring as long as I get to get in the bath soon. My muscles aching for relief.

When I step into the bath I instantly relax, the water is the perfect temperature. Warm enough to ease some tension in my shoulders and back but not too warm so that I feel nauseous.

I feel like I’m at a spa, Chris went to my room and grabbed a face mask I’ve been meaning to use and applied it for me, even putting some on himself. And now he’s washing my hair for me.

I actually think I fall asleep for a second, the mixture of no sleep, a warm bath and a scalp massage getting the best of me.

When I’m done bathing he grabs me some pyjamas and helps me get dressed. We get back to bed, pulling out the snacks and turning on the tv after he found it under my pillow and watching 10 things I hate about you.

He’s so gentle with me, peppering my face with kisses, whispering how much he loves me and holding me so tight I think he might break one of my ribs.

I don’t remember falling asleep but when I wake up I’m wrapped up in his arms and I’m feeling so much better.

Chris however…

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A/n I love this so much, actually broke my heart to think about the fact that none of you will ever experience this because Chris and I are happily married with 3 kids😔💔 but on a serious note, please tell me if there’s anything you want me to do differently next time! I expect you guys to be absolutely brutal in the comments. Thank you guys for reading, I hope it lived up to your expectations! XOXO 💋