#and rambly but i did want to give my honest thoughts

[greenorangevioletgrass]

the albatross, here to destroy you (a.d.)

Pairing: art donaldson x popstar!reader

Summary: three years, three encounters. First, a chance meeting between two rising stars seeking an escape leaves a handprint on their hearts.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: smoking, language, greek mythology references, hella unresolved sexual tension(!!!), art is highkey a baby and lowkey a brat lol, did i mention unresolved sexual tension?, sooo much pining

Notes: this idea has consumed my waking days for weeks. I contemplated making it a really long fic, but after a long and careful consideration, I have decided to make it a trilogy! Two reasons; a) it’s gonna be really long, and b) I wanted to put Art’s look as a reference in each part lmao. Big up to @ysuftmikey and @tommysparker for being awesome and hearing out my incoherent rambles about this story. But anyway, please comment, reblog, talk to me and tell me what you think about it! Happy reading!

**i do not have a taglist. Follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass andd turn on the notifications to be alerted for new fics and updates!**

Part One: London, July 2011.

It was quite an impressive feat. 23-year-old American rising star Art Donaldson had miraculously beat the defending champion-slash-legend Rafael Nadal at the Wimbledon final.

Or so they said.

You don’t know, nor do you care much, to be quite honest. You were basically ordered to attend by your publicist, outfits picked out, hair and makeup team on full throttle only to have you sit pretty on the side of the Centre Court. And now, after milling around and halfheartedly mingling at the afterparty, you decide to give yourself some respite and slip away to the balcony.

“Oh, shit—” the man quickly turns back and stubs his cigarette on the railing, waving away any trace of smoke.

(You say man in a very broad term. He looks more like a teenage boy with that messy blond mop and skittish way about him.)

You raise your hands, showing no threat. “Sorry. Didn’t realize this balcony was taken.”

“Wait, no. Please.” He stops. He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. The only thing more embarrassing than getting caught smoking was getting caught smoking by a pretty girl. And pretty is… a fucking gross understatement, based on what he was seeing. “Don’t leave on my account.”

“You sure?”

You flash him that soft, understanding smile and he very nearly asks you not to leave, like ever. But fortunately, he’s got enough game to hold his tongue and smile back at you, “There’s more than enough room for both of us here, right?”

Technically, the balcony is big enough for the two of you to stand on opposite corners without even addressing each other. But his fingers are resting on a pack of Marlboro Green, and you bite the inside of your cheek thoughtfully. “And more than enough cigarettes, I hope?”

He’s not sure what he was hoping for, but he sure is surprised to hear you accept his invitation to stay. Gosh, he must’ve looked like an idiot right now. “Sure, of course.”

He slides a cigarette out of the pack as he offers it to you, readily leaning in with his zippo. For a split second, the two of you share a breath in the space that he encloses with one hand as he lights your cigarette. You would be lying if it didn’t make your heart stutter.

“So…” you inhale, taking the nicotine hit to calm your thoughts, “I thought smoking was bad for athletes.”

“I thought smoking was bad for singers too, but I guess it’s less frowned upon, huh?” He murmurs, trying to balance a fresh cigarette off of the side of his lips, smirking at you over the flicker of flame he started.

“Touché.” You lean your back against the railing. It’s an interesting game of chess you’re playing. Each of your reputations precede you and don’t at the same time. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re out here smoking on your own, instead of in there…” Celebrating is left unsaid, although the implied word hangs in big and bold letters.

“Ah well, maybe this is my way of celebrating. We’re allowed one vice every now and again, right?”

You look at him like it’s a bullshit excuse—and it is.

“This is gonna sound insane, but…” he takes a drag, looking out at the landscape before him, “I don’t feel like I should be celebrating.”

You look at him like that bullshit excuse grew a new head.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I worked hard for it and I’m glad it paid off, but…” he flicks the ash on the end of his cigarette three times. “I could’ve been better. Quicker. Won more points earlier. Beat him faster. And until I can do that, I don’t think I deserve a celebration just yet.”

You hum softly. “Sounds like you’re making a Sisyphus out of yourself. That can’t be fun.”

His mouth tugs into a crooked smile, not expecting to be called out like this. “I mean, at least I’m not rolling a boulder up a hill. I’d take tennis over that any day.”

“Yeah, but it seems like tennis is your boulder up a hill.”

“Touché.” He smiles bashfully as he takes a long drag. And then, he offers his hand. “I’m Art Donaldson, by the way.”

It’s a formality at this point. He knows who you are, heard your songs on the radio and saw your face on billboards more times than he can count. Hell, he saw you on the stands in your little Dior sunglasses earlier—and you saw him looking, just for a moment, sweat dripping down his perfect nose and all. But out of courtesy, you tell him your name and accept his handshake.

You pull your hand away, and he almost groans in protest. But again, he holds his horses. “Alright, I’ll bite. If I’m Sisyphus, what does that make you?”

“Oh, definitely Dionysus. Living on wine and theater and good vibes.” You’ve got that shit locked and loaded. It’s obvious that you’ve thought of this before.

“Is that so?” He chuckles. “Well… as long as you don’t sacrifice me to the maenads, right?”

“Can’t promise you that,” you quip back, tapping the gray off of your remaining cigarette. Pleasantly surprised that he doesn’t make the obnoxious remark that Dionysus is also the god of sex, as boys would do. Even more so that he knows enough to know the difference between the sirens and the maenads.

There’s no fighting the raging flush in his cheeks anymore, but he just hopes you would spare him. “Will you at least promise to make it swift?”

It comes out faster than a trainwreck, but without even blinking, the one thing that comes out of your mouth is, “What if I wanna take my time with you?”

Fuck.

The party carries on inside, although Stevie Wonder’s ‘My Cherie Amour’ sounds a mile away. His cigarette smoke comes out in a stuttered huff, as he looks away, not knowing what to do with himself. Eventually, though, he recovers, taking another drag. “It wouldn’t be a terrible way to go, huh?”

“I suppose not.” You sigh into a smile, exuding a flume of smoke through your nose. Shit, he doesn’t know which one is hotter; that, or the lipstick mark on your filter. Or the pensive look as you watch the party through the window.

Oh, he’s down bad.

“So, Dionysus…” he leans out against the railing, flicking ash off his stub one, two, three. “What brings you out here? You a tennis fan?”

“Me? Oh, no. No, I… don’t even really understand how it worked until today,” you admit bashfully. Somehow the truth doesn’t feel so embarrassing, even though you spent the day lying through your teeth. “Not until I saw you play. Which… congrats, by the way.”

“Wow. Thanks.” He’s not sure whether it’s the earnestness in your congratulations, or the fact that the game finally makes sense because of him, but his heart grows three sizes.

“But, yeah, no, my publicist dragged me here kicking and screaming.”

“So you were forced into a party, huh? That’s not very Dionysian of you…” He muses playfully, and those lines on each side of his lips aching to break out into a full smile. And they do. And it warms your heart that those smile lines only emphasizes the way his face lights up. “Nah, I get what you mean. My agent had to drag me out of the locker room to make an ‘appearance.’”

“Yeah, she said something about… shifting into a classier, more grownup image?”

“By watching a couple of dudes hit a ball with a racket?”

“By sitting there and looking pretty. It’s the only reason I’m all decked out in this ridiculous fucking thing,” you look down at your outfit with a grumble. Of all the days you could’ve run into someone cute, you’re in a fucking pantsuit like some middle-aged politician.

“But you do look pretty,” he replies without even blinking.

“Thanks, it’s Ralph Lauren.” You smile faux sweetly. “I believe I’m contractually obligated to say that.”

“Still pretty,” and he means it, lackadaisical smile and all. The ivory cape-like blazer is an interesting cut that goes down to your knees, and it makes you look regal. The cut of the pants makes your legs go for miles. It certainly doesn’t hurt that your off-white shirt is unbuttoned halfway, showing a generous amount of cleavage.

(And hey, he’s still a guy. Can you blame him?)

He has this way of looking at you. Like he’s studying you. It would’ve been unsettling, if he weren’t so fucking beautiful to look at and you don’t mind an excuse to stare back and admire the angular lines on his face. Like Apollo in the moonlight. “What?”

Art taps his cigarette much more deliberately and inhales, exhales out of the side of his mouth, much more deliberately this time. “I think you’re more Aphrodite than Dionysus.”

You take another drag. “How so?”

“First of all, for a god of parties, you don’t like to party all that much,” he grins knowingly, smugly, like he’s proud to have figured you out. But his smile softens, and there’s intensity behind his eyes. “And because you’re beautiful. And dangerous.”

Your mouth twists, pausing for a long moment. To calm yourself. To gather yourself. “But it’s so cliched, though…”

“Well, who would you rather be? Medusa, maybe?” He turns his body, leaning on his side against the railing so he’s fully facing you, and you can’t help but mirror his position.

You raise a forefinger pointedly, French manicured nails on display. “Hey. I think Medusa gets a bad rep. Neptune fucked her over, but she was the one cursed.”

“And what, you think you’re as cursed as Medusa, too?”

You shrug, maybe.

Despite the weight of your answer, he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “There’s no way you’re cursed. A curse wouldn’t be so beautiful.”

“But a curse could be deceiving, no?”

“Or maybe it’s a matter of perspective. Maybe you think you’re cursed, even when you might not necessarily be.”

“Oh, just like you’re so inclined to keep pushing your boulder up a hill?”

Art blinks, and sucks his teeth bashfully. Just when he thought he’s got you figured out… Check and mate. “You know, if I didn’t know you any better, I would’ve thought you were some kind of an oracle. Like Cassandra.”

Your eyebrows raise in interest.

“You have this strange, unnerving ability to see right through me. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve had a few drinks, or you’re just very observant, but…” he trails off thoughtfully and then nods like he’s made up his mind. “Cassandra.”

“Cassandra,” you echo quietly. “I like that.”

“Mm-hm. I’d say it’s a very fitting title for you.”

That fond little glint in his eyes is becoming a staple in the way he looks at you. And you don’t ever wanna see it dim. So you speak up again, leaning in conspiratorially. “You wanna hear something funny?”

“What?”

“My parents almost named me Cassandra.”

His jaw drops, dumbstruck. “Shut the fuck up.” His grandmother would have smacked him on the back of his head, knowing the profanity he uses (to a girl he likes, no less). But out of all the things he tried to figure out about her, he never expected to get this one right.

“I shit you not.” You watch him double down laughing, grinning to yourself. “Freaky coincidence, right?”

“Or the Fates working overtime. I’m sure they’d be laughing at us right now.” He looks up at the deep blue sky with a shake of the head.

You wave at the stars, taking a mock bow to your invisible audience. “Thank you. Glad you’re enjoying the show, guys.” The laughter lingers on your lips, and you wonder if it tastes the same on his. “We really are just the court jesters, huh?”

He nods. “Although I wouldn’t mind playing the fool for you.” Maybe it’s the drinks or the cigarettes or the unlikeliest conversation with the most stunning creature he has ever laid eyes on, but at one point, his inhibitions are starting to leave him.

It’s now or never.

The dubious smile that comes out of you is involuntary. He can’t be serious, right? “You are so full of shit, aren’t you?”

“You don’t believe me?”

You look at him like, obviously.

“What are you gonna do, punish me for lying?” There’s that glint again, the bite against the inside of your cheek, and Art steps in.

Your heart catches. He doesn’t feel much like a boy now, inches away from you with a disarming look, his intentions crystal clear. And your head drops for a moment with a wry smile. “You can’t say that to me...”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Because? His grin widens, because for the first time this whole evening, he’s got the upper hand. And he likes it.

“I…” You blink at him, finding yourself cornered. Thankfully, though, your phone comes to the rescue, buzzing in your pocket and popping the tension between you and Art like a balloon. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I—”

“Yeah, sure.” he backs away a step, flashing an understanding smile. He watches you pick up the phone, looking out at the London sky. He would swear up and down that he didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He just loves to watch you gnaw at your lower lip in thought, study your moonbathed profile.

Listen to the sweet, sweet sound of your voice.

“Hi… no, I’m still at the— yeah. I’m not sure… are you still with…? Oh, good. Good, just checking. Say hi to everyone for me... Yeah, I’ll call you when I get back?” You catch Art’s gaze, and your stomach drops as you hear the dreaded words on the line. But again, you’re backed away into a corner. So you look away and say it back, “I love you, too. Bye.”

There it is.

Art really should’ve known this. He should’ve seen it coming. You were way too good to be true, but that doesn’t stop him from getting disappointed. No, his heart breaks on the spot, and he’s pretty sure you can hear it.

(You can’t. But you can see it in his face.)

The silence is awkward. It’s ugly. The steady sounds of cars passing by on the ground feels like it’s right in front of you. For the longest time, the two of you can only look out onto the horizon. Anxiously tracing the outlines of skyscrapers in sight.

He is reeling, like he’s been shaken awake from a dream. “So, I take it you’re taken, huh?”

The look you give him is apologetic, and it kills you as much as it destroys him. “Yeah.”

Art rubs at his jaw like he’s willing himself to say something, anything. “I see you’ve cursed me, then.”

“What?”

It takes him a moment to gather his words. Put together his thoughts in a way that you would understand. He didn’t mean it to sound so damning, but it’s the first thing that comes out. It feels like taking a boulder out of his throat. “By making me like you.”

Oh.

Your face falls. Of course. How cruel of you to play his game, knowing you’re setting him up to lose. “I’m sorry. I never meant to…”

“No, no. I’m not blaming you, I swear,” he quickly interjects. “It’s… not your fault one of us is a fool.” He smiles ruefully at nothing.

“It’s a shame,” you quietly admit.

And even then he can’t be mad at you. Not from the way he looks at you oh so tenderly. “It’s a real shame, love.”

There are no words, no more witty remarks. They’ve all been exhausted out of you. There’s nothing left to exchange but that soft look of resignation. Of defeat.

Of wishful thinking.

The cigarettes have long died out and forgotten, only the filters left between your fingers. Your ashes fall in a big chunk on the railing, while Art’s… have free-dived and dispersed in the muggy night air.

“I should go.” Your voice comes out in a whisper. “Let you go back to your party.”

Art can only nod. He keeps his mouth shut, not trusting himself enough to not beg you to stay.

You reach out, almost pulling back, but you can’t help it. Even if it’s just a nothing hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Art.”

He covers your hand in his, just for a second. His thumb caressing the back of your hand. His heart is in pieces, but at least he will have this. If nothing else, he will still know how your hand feels in his.

And just as quickly as it happens, it ends. Art doesn’t dare watch you leave. He misses your touch instantly, and the sound of your footsteps, and the door opening and closing follows. As Al Green’s ‘What Am I Gonna Do With Myself’ plays on in the party, Art looks out towards the London sky and lights another cigarette.

[moinsbienquekaworu]

I thought Une route à parcourir à deux was finished, I don't know why, I looked at the last chapter's author note and I don't know where I saw that but I thought it was finished.... It's not. It's not! Grief and pain. It's not finished!

[piplupod]

counselor has called in sick I guess (she's not "in" today) so.... at least I don't have to sit in her chair and lie about how I'm doing to avoid being put in psych ward ? a win and a loss I suppose (also I was absolutely about to forget to bring the distress tolerance booklet she wanted me to bring so fhdjdl perhaps this is a saving grace)

[our-lady-of-mcr]

everytime i think im done ranting i remember something else LMFAO this one is extra long i hit tag limit god mf damn

[andersonfilms]

❝ DO YOU FEEL ASHAMED? ❞ ✶ ELLIE WILLIAMS !

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, ex!ellie, heavy angst, cheating, heartbreak, moving on, reader going through it, no happy ending y'all, this one has a little kick, ellie is a bit of a dirtbag in this, next time i write for her it'll be the most fluff.

RAYNE RAMBLES ★ wrote this last year after getting cheated on and it's just been sitting in my docs, forever. enjoy my pain?? idk, possible abby x reader sequel

ex!ellie who avoids you for a very long time after the breakup. she wishes it could be amicable between the two of you too, but it can't be. it never will be. ellie made sure of it. all of her belongings are still littered across your apartment, though her scent is gone, you still see her everywhere. you can't bring yourself to remove the framed photos of the two of you hanging across your home. she was happy, or so you thought, and you were. but today was the day. you were letting all of it go and her with it. your roommate had taken it all down for you, the strength to remove the past three years of your life just couldn't be found. 

ex!ellie who doesn't really want to think about the way you'll look at her. her emerald eyes were always your favorite, you used to go on about how much you love them. how soft they looked at you, the light shining beneath them whenever she said something stupid and ellie just waited for your giggle or a hint of it anyway. they used to be kind to you, careful, even calm but it didn't seam to be the case anymore. ellie knew you wouldn't be either — not after she’s hurt you. carelessly, abusing your kind-hearted spirit, turned you to something resembling unbridled rage with a large dosage of resentment. 

ex!ellie who is met with your roommate instead of you, before the door is slammed in her face. she expects to be met with sharp behavior. there wasn't a shadow of a doubt she did. ellie just wished it wasn't your best friend who she fucking hated. ellie never liked them. they never liked her and now she didn't have to hide it. what ellie couldn't stand was that they were right about her. three years in and instead of doing the decent thing, ellie chose to betray you. those closest to you were going to protect you from the enemy at all costs. the only you trust the most and cut you the deepest. as much as she despised it, it was all true. 

ex!ellie who eventually gets you, after you hear her voice carelessly arguing with your friend. you place a box at the entry in front of her feet, before you walk away. ellie peaks through one foot in the door, but then you're already back with the second box. ellie can see the tears in your eyes and you see the guilt in hers. almost shining brighter than the shame. she knows how much it hurts you, her being here, being so close but so unimaginably far away it makes you want to hurl. 

ex!ellie who watches you breathe deeply, your hands clenched into fists. before you're rubbing them at drained eyes, dark circles underneath them. she's to blame for everything you're going through. if she had just been honest from the beginning, maybe the two of you could've been friends and just left your love there. you were nothing but good to ellie, pure like white snow, and now the blood from her hands fell over you, staining you a violent red. you would never be pure again. no. not like before. you wouldn't ever blindly trust anyone just because you simply fell in love. putting yourself out like this again? no, you couldn't do it. 

ex!ellie who tries to speak with you, mouth open, but no words are able to come out. she tried her best to put off this moment, the confrontation of the aftermath, facing the fact she had treated you like an afterthought, but you were more than just a thought ellie had tried to push away. you were a person she had left abandoned. she had promised you the world and caved when the time came to give in. she become everything you feared she would be, tearing you in little shreds of yourself as you tried to piece back what she had broke. 

"you look like you haven't slept." ellie states, not really a question, but she almost phrases it as one. she doesn't have a right to ask. the two of you know she's forfeited knowing you, your life, how you're doing — she's the one whose damned it all. 

"i don't really. not right now at least." you look anywhere but her eyes, your eyes concentrating towards the freckles meticulously scattered along her shoulders, her cheeks, and along her button nose. “anyways, should be everything of yours. i’ll contact dina if anything else shows up.” your tone sharp, clearly cutting through. 

there’s no malice when you utter her girlfriend’s name, but ellie senses you’ll reserve the tone of betrayal just for her. she’s the one who abandoned her commitment to you. 

not dina. 

“can we talk? please?” ellie flashes her beautiful puppy eyes at you, once would make you melt, now you feel like throwing up.

“ellie.” there is it is, ellie thinks, betrayal and brutality laced in the voice who promised her a future. there once had been one, house, kids, a ring. it seems so silly now. it’s a warning the way you speak to her. don’t push your luck, williams. 

she’s with dina. why does she even care? 

she’d never seen you so upset, so vengeful, so tired of her. you weren’t lying when you never said you never wanted to see her again. every single beat of your heart meant it, the emotion cut off when you spoke to her, how you looked at her with this cold look in your eyes. arms crossed over your chest as if looking at her is the most taxing task in the world. 

ellie was supposed to not care. she couldn’t, yet it bothered her you clearly didn’t. 

“i have nothing i want to say, especially to you.” you bark, for the first time, ellie fears there might be a bite. 

“i-i know i fucked up, okay? i just can’t stand the thought of you fucking hating me.” ellie pleads, a longing look in her eyes. 

“well, i never thought i would, so i guess we’re all evolving and changing into horrible people.” you roll your eyes at her, watching as she struggles to pick up the boxes laid at her feet. 

you loath how much you want to help her, but don’t. 

you can’t. 

“you’re not horrible.” 

“well, you are.” your insult slapped her right across the face, the burning sensation stung but what hurt more was knowing you meant every word. 

“this isn’t fair, i know what i did was bad, but i told you the truth. i didn’t lie, i confessed. isn’t it worth for at least, i dont know, a little empathy? something?” ellie sighed deeply, shoulders tense from the altercation with you. “

“you didn’t tell me because you’re a honest person. it’s because i would have found out and you were scared.” you scoff. “fuck you. wanting brownie points for admitting you cheated? go to hell.” 

“what else could i have done? it was already too late.” ellie admits, shame laced in her eyes. you hope she feels every bit of shame for all the hell she’s put you through. 

“i wonder why it was too late?” your sarcasm slicing through the air. ellie finally managed to get a grasp on boxes in her shaky hands as she tried to not crumble under your death glare from hell. “i was the last one to show up at the party to your new fucking relationship. huh, guess i would be one not invited? some weird fucking placeholder until you found something better. right under my fucking nose.” 

she deserves every bit of it. 

painfully, you were met with silence. ellie couldn’t do anything, apologize in a way she hadn’t before, beg for forgiveness, grovel for your compassion. 

you were too angry, too heated, too fucking hurt. there’s only a split second of it, ellie almost missed it, but she saw it clearly. the gloomy blues hidden beneath your beautiful eyes, slowly becoming more evident. you’re trying your best to hide it beneath anger, mask it from her, but she sees it. 

tears building the more your voice escalates and ellie would truly hate herself if she made you cry in front of her, again. she’s can’t see you do it again. it’s the last thing she wants. she can’t keep hurting you. 

dina, fuck. she has to protect her. ellie’s unsure if you’ll lash out on here. you haven’t yet, but breakups pull the worst out of you and she’s fearful for the women she does love. 

“just…don’t take it out on dina, alright? if you wanna be mad, fine. as much as i wish i could fix it, i know nothing i can say or do will earn your trust back. okay?” 

your heart breaks at her instinct to protect dina, how she used to do the same for you. it nearly splits you into an abyss, cracking your soul just where she had nicked it. almost seemed intentional at this point. 

“i would never be mean to her. she didn’t promise me a future together, you did. hope you have lovely fucking life with her.” 

ex!ellie who is met with the wooden door being slammed in her face, nearly kissing her chin. she stayed there long enough to hear you cry, sitting on the concrete to hear the consequences of loving someone else who wasn’t her girlfriend, well now ex. she craved to punch something, someone. you whined, a name quietly dropped from your perfect lips, abby, your fucking best friend. she would be the one to comfort you, pick up the pieces of the wreckage ellie had left you with. it scorned her, letting a flame loose on her skin, with the thought of you with her. but she didn’t get to have feelings, she couldn’t be upset with how you chose to reassemble your sanity. not when she’s the one who broke you. even if it’s with the woman she always feared you love more than a friend.

DAILY CLICK + DONT BUY TLOU + DONATE

[lovebugism]

Virgin!Eddie thoughts?

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | quid pro quo

summary: eddie muson is a virgin and doesn't want anyone to know (because being an adult who's never fucked anyone is a total reputation ruiner). but you, his favorite customer, are more than willing to change that. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader word count: 6.5k (holy shit this was supposed to be a blurb) warnings: talks of virginity and masturbation, the word "tit" too many times, a handjob (sorta?) 18+ mdni a/n: you asked for thoughts but i had way too many of them for a single post so i might turn this into a whole virgin!eddie series that will only see the light of day if you guys are into this so... no pressure <3

( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

You were Eddie’s favorite customer, though that went without saying. It was something both of you were more than aware of. Albeit it, it was a little strange, since he — the supplier of your weed — was essentially paying for your high. He doesn’t mind it, though. He never did. You made it up for him in other ways; and, no, it’s not as perverted as it sounds.

It’s actually much, much weirder.

It was your fourth time meeting with him but your first time without any money to give him in exchange. You’re all pink and fidgeting and feeling like a total loser as you shift on the hard wooden bench across from him.

Your gaze is tilted away from his and down at your hands where you twist the rings on your fingers — “I was supposed to get paid last Friday, but my boss is paying me weekly now instead of every two weeks, so he completely changed my payday on me, and he swears he told me about it, but he totally didn’t— anyway, that’s beside the point. I don’t have any money to give you, or like, at all. Genuinely. I’m gonna be lucky if I get to eat anything other than top ramen for the next few days.”

“Damn,” he laughs, not in amusement at your situation but rather pitying you for it. “That sucks—”

“That sounds like I’m guilt-tripping you, doesn’t it?” you keep rambling. “I’m really not. I’m just trying to be honest. I’m not, like, trying to do you over or anything. I swear. You probably don’t even care. You’re my drug dealer, not my friend, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't— I’m making a total fool out of myself, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all,” Eddie assures sincerely, the hint of a smile curling at the corner of his lips. That’s all he can muster. He feels like the fool right about now because your words sting a little harder than intended. 

He always considered you a friend. Or, at least, a whole lot more than just a client. You’re the only customer he has fun with, who he can laugh with, who doesn’t just hang around long enough for him to hand you your drugs like everyone else does, who actually cares enough to make conversation with him.  

Maybe that’s why he chose to give it to you for free that day. 

Because he’s started to grow fond of you (and because he genuinely believes that you’re in a bad way and that money’s a little too tight for you right now. He knows all too well what that’s like.) 

But he asks you for a favor in return when you take the plastic baggie from him. It has him blushing with embarrassment like you’d been just minutes before. He can’t meet your gaze as he says the words, but he can feel the incredulous beam of it piercing holes into him.

“You, Eddie Munson, are willing to give me weed, for free, as long as I… help you pass your next English exam?”

You weren’t repeating it to mock him or to make him feel bad for being a third-year senior. You’re just actually shocked because you know a thing or two about the Munson’s. You know that his Uncle is working two jobs, and his nephew has resorted to drug dealing to compensate for their being strapped for cash. You also know that suppliers giving out anything for free is bad for business, so it’s essentially unheard of. 

And aside from all that, Eddie wanting to study — to want to try to be good at something rather than just winging it and hoping for the best — was almost as surprising as him wanting you to be the one to help him. You literally have Gareth, his best friend, in your English class, and he’s way better at it than you are.

You try to find what makes you somehow special but come up short.

“Is that, like, really weird?” he wonders meekly, scrunching his nose and peering at you through his lashes. His eyes are the color of chocolate syrup, you notice then. Like, exactly. And they have a sort of sheen to them beneath the sun, like he's trapped a star inside of them.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh that's as light as air. “Considering you could’ve offered literally anything else. Like, I don’t know— groping my tits or something.”

It’s what you were half-expecting. Not because you thought Eddie was that kind of guy, but because that’s how it often went down, at least in porn. A busty (broke) blonde orders a pizza, a man with an enormous dick delivers it… It’s a tale as old as time, really.

Your words make him tense for the second time in five minutes. 

He almost wants to be offended that you’d think of him that way, but his yearning far overpowers his wounded ego.

He’s got a soft heart. That offer never would’ve crossed his mind, and even if it did, he’d never be stupid enough to say it out loud. But he didn’t realize how much he liked you until right then. It wasn’t just a friend caring for another friend, but a boy with a crush on a girl eons out of his league (with boobs he would happily touch if she’d let him).

He clears his throat and irrationally prays that you aren’t a mind reader.

“I’m down if you are,” he answers with a playful lilt to his voice that makes you giggle again. He’s happy to hear it. Your laugh is like being basked in sunshine. He wants to keep it in his pocket when he gets lost in the shade. 

That’s the moment that started it all — the strange friendship that formed out of practically nothing. Who knew what being poor, free weed, an historically low GPA, and a missed opportunity for tit-groping could do to two people?

From then on, all your weed was free. As long as you broke down all the themes in Of Mice and Men for him, of course. And then, when he ultimately aced that paper, he wanted to run his D&D campaign by you — “So, you know, it isn’t totally lame when I show it to the rest of Hellfire.”

“Of course, it’s gonna be lame,” you deadpan from across the rotting bench. “It’s Dungeons and Dragons.”

He goes red at that, a flash of pink blotched around his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He glows cherry with embarrassment and smiles faintly as he looks down at his hand, fidgeting with his silver skull ring. It’s cute. Too cute. The kind of cute that makes you grin to yourself without even thinking about it.

“I’m kidding, Eds—”

Eds. That was new, the boy remarks to himself. Not the nickname itself, perhaps, but the fact that you were the one calling him by it. You’re getting more comfortable with him. He likes that. It gives him a false hope; that one day he’ll be a friend to you and not just your dealer.

“—It sounds really fun actually,” you assure him with nod and a twinkling gaze that proves you sincere. “As long as you’ll smoke with me during.”

“I don’t really like to use my own product…” That was a lie. Mostly. He didn’t like to smoke his own stuff because that burned a hole into his profits. But that didn’t mean he didn’t do it. It was far too tempting to have a tin full of so much weed never more than just a few inches away.

Now he’s got a pretty girl in front of him, wanting to smoke with him, wanting to spend time with him. Hell’s freezing over as they speak and that certainly calls for a celebratory smoke session.

A smirk pulls at his pink lips and he tilts his head, bringing his ear to his shoulder, as he looks at you with a glimmering umber gaze.

“But I’m willing to make an exception. Just for you.”

Eddie swears you blush at that, but he catches only the shortest glimpse of your crimson cheeks before you duck your gaze to the table. The beam on your face is only half-washed away, however, when you turn up to look at him again. You look shy, almost, as you peer at him through your lashes.

“You’ll basically have to start from scratch too, you know that, right? I don’t know anything about that shit.”

“Well, I’m glad I can be your first,” he quips.

You laugh again. It’s like the pinky-orange of a sunset. He could paint it if he had the right supplies. And a set of hands that were good for things other than rolling die and playing guitar.

It was his first time, really. In every aspect of the phrase.

It was the first time a girl’s ever offered to hang out with him and not the other way around. The first time a customer’s ever offered to share their weed with him. The first time someone’s ever wanted him to explain his favorite hobby and not care that he’s been rambling for the better part of an hour. 

He doesn’t even notice that he hasn’t shut up since he started talking, mostly because you aren’t giving him that look of annoyance people usually have when he hasn’t gotten the hint. Most couldn’t care less about goblins and villains and battles and knights and princesses — princess knights.

It’s more interesting than you ever hoped a board game could be, but less so as enchanting as the glow Eddie’s got about him as he rambles on and on about something that makes him so happy.

He’s beaming and he doesn’t even realize it. He has no idea he could light up an entire solar system with the smile on his face. You’d tell him if it didn’t feel totally inappropriate.

It takes two weeks to perfect the campaign, which isn’t at all long if you compare it to the year it took him to build it from scratch. When the Cult of Vecna (you pat yourself on the back for coming up with the name) is polished and Hellfire worthy, Eddie starts giving you weed... just because.

There’s nothing left for him to offer in exchange. And he isn’t going to turn his favorite customer down for anything.

“What? No tutoring? No D&D campaign?” you wonder with furrowed brows and a face contorted in confusion.

Eddie shrugs and swings the baggie full of greenery back and forth with the tip of his pointed finger. “Nope. I’m passing English and the campaign’s all finished — the guys love it, by the way. Thanks to you. You’ve helped me out with enough shit, so… just take it.”

“Well, now I just feel bad,” you reject with a scrunched nose, displeased at the idea of taking something and not doing anything for it in return. He can hardly afford it to begin with, much less without anything in exchange. “You're basically paying for my weed already. I can’t just take it.”

“You could,” the boy lilts with a sardonic nod. “My hand's getting a little tired here, sweetheart.”

You huff and reach across the bench for the plastic baggie. Your face is still twisted with an absentminded annoyance and your gaze still uncertain. “You sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. Cross my heart.”

“Fine.”

“Unless groping your tits is still on the table, of course,” he squints playfully over at you and then smiles softly at the recollection of the conversation from many moons ago.

It was supposed to be a joke. But you’re not laughing.

And when you nod at him, he isn’t either.

It’s got him nearly choking on air and sputtering for a response. “No, I was— I was just— It was a joke. I was just kidding.”

“I know. But, I don’t know, I’m down if you are,” you shrug. “That’s what you said before, right?”

And Eddie has no idea what to say to that. Of course, he wants to. There are a billion things he wants to do. He wants to graduate, he wants to play a show at the Madison Square Garden with Corroded Coffin, he wants to bend you over this table and fuck you silly.

He could do all those things if he were a different person, but he wasn’t. He’s just some guy who can’t pass an English class he's already taken three times, with a mediocre band that plays in front of about five drunks (if they’re lucky), who has a crush on a girl who’s offering to let him feel her up for a short-lived high. 

He repeats that last part to himself in his head a couple times. It sounds like a dream he had once. He pinches the skin of his wrist, just to make sure, and winces when it starts to hurt.

It’s real, you’re real, and that’s the scariest part. 

Because he’s never actually seen boobs that weren’t projected from a television screen through the grainy film of a VHS tape, or pictured in a crinkled magazine he stole from a gas station — let alone touched one. And the second he puts his hands on you, and you feel him shaking like a leaf and totally unsure of what to do, you’ll know that. 

That is, if he doesn’t come in his pants first.

He’s terrified that when you do realize that he’s a complete and utter, absolute and proper virgin, you’ll think he’s significantly less cool. And he can’t have that.

It’s bad for clientele. They’ll stop seeing him as the mysterious metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks but rather as some teddy bear who’s never actually been inside a woman.

He could probably handle the potential drop in income and the talks around school. Hell, he could even handle all the shit Jason Carver would spew at him if he knew. But the idea that you’ll stop wanting to hang out with him — he isn’t sure if he could take that.

He doesn’t notice that he hasn’t said a word until you’re speaking again. And even then, it’s all muffled like he’s underwater. 

“I can come over tonight, if you want.”

No, he thinks to himself. That’s far too early. I have to lose my virginity and learn everything there is to possibly know about sex first.

“I... I can’t. Hellfire,” he answers, almost slurring, still caught in a stupor.

“Tomorrow, then,” you challenge at his rejection. You cross your arms and lean over the table as you squint at him. The wind rustling through the trees carries the warmth of your floral-vanilla scent over to him, like a lullaby, or a magic spell.

As though he needed something else to make him all stupid.

Suddenly you're ten feet tall. Eddie feels like an ant. You could crush him if you wanted. You have all the power and the look you give him tells him that you know that. He fidgets on the hard wooden seat but can’t seem to break your stare. His voice is tight and a few octaves higher as he answers — “Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good. Great, even.”

“Cool,” you’re suddenly beaming. You stand from the bench and saunter off, tossing a look and a wave over your shoulder as you shout, “See you tomorrow, Eds!”

He has to jerk off after that one. He counts himself lucky that he made it to his van before he exploded completely.

Eddie has to become a sex god in twenty-four hours and he doesn’t know where to start. 

So, like any master procrastinator, he doesn’t. He just worries about it all night and the following day. He turns himself into a big ball of anxiety (if you touched him, he'd probably shock you) and it’s left him in the sort of worry that doesn’t let him sit still for too long.

Wayne’s sitting in his recliner, trying to eat his late lunch before he heads off to work the graveyard shift. It’s hard to enjoy his sandwich or the latest episode of Miami Vice playing on the television ahead of him when his nephew keeps bouncing in and out of the room. Making brief conversation, rearranging the knickknacks on the coffee table, coming in just to stand in place for a few minutes before leaving again to rustle in other parts of the small trailer. 

At one point, he comes in with the fucking vacuum and nudges at the man’s work boots until he kicks his feet up. Wayne’s never seen him do a chore in his life.

“What the hell has gotten into you today, boy?” the man complains through turkey, cheese, and bread.

“Nothing. What are you talking about? I’m perfectly normal.”

He’s never been normal a day in his life either.

Eddie disappears out of the room a second later with the whirring of the vacuum in tow. Wayne shakes his head to himself. “Boy’s gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles and takes another too large bite.

It’s unlike Eddie not to tell his uncle things, especially things weighing so heavy on his chest that they're starting to feel like pure steel. But his uncle doesn’t ask any questions, and Eddie’s grateful.

How the hell is he supposed to tell Wayne that a cute girl is coming over and that he’s jacked off three times at the thought of her?

Once in his bed, the first thing he did that day when he woke up from a dream about you that felt a little too real; the second in the shower when the cold water wouldn’t kill the boner he’d gotten; and the third in his bedroom, in the shirt he’d peeled off hardly ten minutes beforehand when he got into a bath. It made him feel dirty again though his skin was perfectly clean.

Wayne would think he was joking. At least with the “cute girl” part. He’d probably pat him on the back for the second one — “oh, to be young again,” he'd mumble to himself while simultaneously deciding to leave well enough alone.

Eddie’s so nervous he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

You’ve got him practicing what to do in the mirror, trying to plan the conversation, ironing out the wrinkles of what might happen. “Hi—” he starts but then shakes his head and clears his throat. His voice is deeper as he continues, “Hey, how are you doing? Oh, that’s cool, I’m good too— shit, this is so fucking lame.”

He wonders how you’ll go about it. If you’ll offer first, or if he needs to ask. If you’ll make small talk or if you’ll just straight up take off your shirt. He’d take either, honestly.

He jerks off one more time, just for good measure, after Wayne’s left for work. He’s already tired and his dick is practically raw with how much it’s been tugged at, but he hopes it’ll stop him from getting hard the second you walk through the door. And he figures with the amount he’s come that day, he’s a whole less likely to do it in his pants when he touches you.

You knock on the door at 7 o’clock sharp, like you planned it down to the minute.

He straightens out his leather jacket when he stands abruptly from the couch. He rushes to the door and then hesitates with his hand on the rusted brass handle — because he doesn’t want to seem too eager, right? 

He leans to the side to look in the dirty glass mirror hanging by the coat rack, brushing through his curly locks in attempts to tame them. Then he shakes his head so they’re wild again.

He finds you standing on his porch in a tight-black sweater that dips down at your chest; the pendant of your necklace sparkles under the yellow nightlight perched on the outside wall. It’s paired with a white nylon skirt that stops at your thigh.

He’s only seen girls on TV in the suede boots you’re wearing — the kind that’s tight up to your ankle with a short and chunky heel. They match the color of your skirt. He wonders if they were expensive and how much you’ve worn them; they look brand new, like you’ve brought them down from the top of your closet just for him.

You’ve got a stack of thick tapes in one hand and a brown paper bag of snacks in the other.

“What… What’s all this?” he wonders, not displeased at your effort but shocked by it nonetheless.

“Thought we could have a movie night,” you shrug then slide by him and into the trailer. He shuts the door behind you and watches from afar as you set the sack down. It’s not quite flat on the bottom so it topples over and spills some of its content onto the coffee table — red hot chips and sour gummy worms.

“You mentioned that you’d never seen Fast Times a couple weeks ago, so I decided to go rent a copy at Family Video, right? And then I started talking to Robin and she started showing me all the new movies that just came in, so I got a little carried away—”

You're rambling, he notices, almost like you’re nervous.

It makes him feel slightly better, knowing this obviously wasn’t your first time hanging out with a guy (or being touched by one, if he ever got to that part), but that you were nervous nonetheless. Like you wanted this — whatever this was — to go well just as much as he did.

Eddie puts the tape into the VHS player when you’re headed back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand. You sit it on the table before plopping yourself in the middle of the couch — the boy across the living room has no idea you spent the two-and-a-half minutes it took to cook the snack debating on where to sit.

You feared sitting too far on one side might spook him from sitting next to you, that he’d think you didn’t want to sit next to him. So you place yourself snuggly in the middle of the decade-old sofa and hope you don’t seem too eager.

Your heart sinks to your ass when Eddie sits so far on the edge he’s practically sitting on the arm of it.

You muster a smile and try to make a joke of it. “I don’t have cooties or anything, Eds.”

“Promise?” he lilts. The way his voice shakes is purely for comedic effect. Obviously.

“Cross my heart.”

He hopes that by playing it off, you won’t notice how anxious he is about sitting next to you. But when he plants himself beside you, just close enough so that the rough fabric of his jeans scratches your knee every time he fidgets, it’s a little like sitting next to a rock. You spend the first half of the movie wondering if he’s nervous too or if he really just didn’t want to sit this close to you.

The film keeps playing and he keeps snacking — eating chips and Oreos and popcorn in a rotation before combining all three and marveling at the taste; “You’ve got to try this!” he exclaims to you with raised brows and wide eyes. He eventually forgets to be nervous.

That is, until Fast Times hits 53 minutes and 5 seconds.

The smooth bass of Moving in Stereo plays lowly in the background as Phoebe Cates rises from the pool water, clad in a small red bikini. The chlorine-laced drops of water glisten off of her tanned skin. “Hi, Brad. You know how cute I always thought you were,” you quote quietly along with her.

Your eyes are as glued to the television as Eddie’s when she starts to unlatch her top, like it’s the first time you’re seeing it too. You joked to Robin once that you couldn't wait until they made this movie in 3D.

Eddie gets hard as a rock, then. In every sense of the phrase.

“She’s hot, right?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he answers. He clears his throat when the word comes out too tight. “Totally.”

“That’s how I knew Robin was gay, you know? We watched this when I slept over at her house one time and I woke up in the middle of the night and found her playing this scene over and over again,” you confess with a laugh and hope your best friend won’t be too angry you told him this. “She was sitting, like, two inches away from the screen.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And when we made out afterward, that really sealed the deal—”

“Holy shit—” he sputters before he can stop it. “—Are you joking?”

Please, say yes before I come in my jeans, he thinks to himself.

“Why?” you challenge, shooting him an arched brow over your shoulder. “Does that change anything?”

“What? No! Of— Of course not!” It just makes you, like, ten times fucking hotter, that’s all.

“Good,” you nod and then turn back to the television. You move on quickly, and Eddie’s grateful. You keep telling the story like it’s one you tell all your friends.

“I asked her why she was watching it without me, and she said she got bored, but I already knew why she was watching it, you know? I guess I just wanted to hear her say it. So I just came out with it — ‘If you want to look at a pair of tits, I’m literally right here.’”

Eddie’s so entranced by your words it’s like you're telling him a bedtime story. He’s looking at you so intently, his gaze locked to your profile like he’s trying to commit it to memory. And when you finally turn to look at him again, he can’t seem to turn away, to even pretend like he wasn’t just hopelessly staring at you.

“So, then it became this whole thing, right? Like, I’ll show mine if you show yours. And then she got all awkward and nervous and lost in her head, kinda like you right now, and then I leaned in…” you trail off quietly, doing it in time as the words leave your mouth. So teasingly and breathtakingly slow. Eddie finds himself drifting closer to you, too, like a bayman to a siren’s call. “Just like this… And then I—”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence.

Eddie’s already kissing you before he realizes what he’s doing. Your noses knock together, the tip of his crushed against the side of yours. The sweet flavor of your strawberry chapstick evades his mouth when your lips press together.

He’s as shocked as you are.

He’s wanted to kiss many pretty girls in his life, but this was the first time he's actually ever done it.

You feel his face burn red against you when he realizes what he’s just done. He tries to pull away from you, but you keep him there with a hand on the back of his head; deepening the kiss and telling him that you want this — that you’ve always wanted this — without actually saying the words.

Refusing to separate from him, you maneuver yourself to face him more as press yourself against his side and tuck your knees beneath you. You caress the rough pad of his tongue with yours all the while, one hand balled in the shoulder of his t-shirt and the other anchoring itself to his curls.

You wait patiently for him to take action. To grip your waist. To lay you back on the couch. To climb over you and take what’s his.

He never does.

He hardly even touches you. He’s got one palm on your hip, but it’s so featherlight that it’s barely even there. His other hand is clutching the pillow on his lap with a white-knuckled grip, like he’s fighting to contain himself in some way. But you want him to let go. To lose himself with you.

The cushion had been there for most of the movie, something to keep in his absentminded hold and get crumbs all over. You wonder, now, if it’s a shield for something else.

Your lips click wetly when you part from him. A small smile forms on your mouth when you notice a string of spit threatening to connect the both of you. It breaks apart, landing cold below your mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand.

“Are you hard?”’ you wonder through bated breaths, coming right and just saying it.

Eddie’s eyes go somehow wider and his mouth falls agape. “Uh… No?”

Giggling, you ask, “Is that a question?”

“Maybe.”

“So what’s the answer?” you pry.

“Honestly?” he starts with a heavy breath and heavier eyes, still trying to joke. “Whatever makes me sound super cool and mysterious and sexy.”

“I’ve always thought you were all those things,” you confess with a soft laugh, twisting a strand of his hair with the tip of your finger.

“…Really?” he can’t help but wonder. Those words are about the most shocking thing that’s happened so far this evening.

“Yeah,” you nod, then tease: “Because you've never lied to me.”

So tell me the truth, he can hear the words jumbling around in your head. So does. He swallows thickly and then admits, voice cracking halfway through his confession, “I’m so hard that it fucking hurts, sweetheart.”

You’re smiling like the Chesire Cat at that, big and sly and mischievous. You have all the power and you know it.

“Can I make you feel better?” you whisper to him, lilting like you're taunting him. You mean it, though, and he knows that because you’re already tugging at the pillow in his lap. You don’t fight to snatch it away completely. You leave just enough room to allow him to say no. But his grip on the thing relaxes and allows you to slide the cushion slowly from his crotch.

He can’t say the words because his tongue is suddenly heavy in his mouth and his throat is closing on him. So he just nods, peering at you with eyes hooded with ecstasy.

You go back to kissing him, then, unhurriedly this time. You allow yourself to feel all of him, to hold his face in your hands and explore all the bits of him you never got the chance to before now. You do it more so in an effort to get him to relax, to forget to be nervous, but it only half-works.

He gets more comfortable with himself with time. The hand on your waist finds a more confident purchase there and the other climbs up to your face, cradling your jaw while his ringed fingers get lost in the strands of your hair. Then he starts to kiss you back harder, more earnestly than before, like he’s trying to prove something. Trying to tell you everything like this than with words he can’t seem to say out loud.

He forgets to be nervous again when your lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle — the kind with the funky edges, the kind you know goes together because there’s only two in the whole bunch like it. He stops worrying if he’s doing it right.

His breath is warm and heavy as it fans against your cupid’s bow. He’d rather take in small pieces of oxygen like this than stop kissing you now. You feel the same way as you straddle his thigh, careful not to move with too much haste that it knocks your lips apart.

Eddie’s legs part for you on instinct. When you settle more comfortably against him, he can feel the warmth radiating between your thighs through the thick fabric of his jeans. He wishes he was naked right now, more so that you were, so he can feel all of you, bare against his skin.

But he takes what he can get for now. And tries not to burst completely at the thought that the only thing separating you from him was the thin layer of your cotton underwear.

It’s hard not to think about your own pleasure like this. You could so easily move your hips against his thigh, let the rugged fabric of his jeans and your panties do all the work against your clit and bring you to a swift release. You want to. You’re sure Eddie would want you to if you asked him. But it strangely seems less important now.

Because you know you’re minutes away from making Eddie come so hard his legs shake. And you always wanted to know what he looked like when he came.

Your hand worms out of his hair and down his neck. Your fingernails trail lightly over his skin, leaving visible chill bumps in their wake. Your palm falls down his chest and stomach, smooth like drops of summer rain. The print of his Def Leppard tee is rough and cracked with age. You wonder how long he’s had it, how often he’s worn it, as your hand settles again. This time on his belt.

For a split second, he’s anxious about you seeing his dick. What if you think it’s too small? He thinks to himself. What if you think it’s too ugly? But then he realizes you’re not even trying to take off his jeans. You just rest your palm over the rough material of the denim and grip him through it.

A groan crawls up his throat and out of his mouth. His head falls backward and lands against the back of the couch.

He’s bigger than you thought, and warm against the tender skin of your hand, even through his boxers and his pants. It’d be ever warmer if you were feeling the real thing, you discern, but you figure you’ll save that for another time. Because even though it’s not the real thing and there are so many layers separating your fingers from his cock, Eddie’s letting out small and breathy moans that tell you that you’re touching him just right. The more you squeeze, the louder he gets.

“Is this okay?” you whisper to him.

“Are you kidding?” he retorts with a breathless laugh. “I feel like I’m in heaven right now.”

“Just wait until you come,” you giggle. It makes him moan again. His eyes fall shut because he knows he’s moments away from feeling what it’s like — not to come, obviously, but for it to be from your hand and not his. 

You massage him through his jeans, feeling him grow somehow harder with each caress of your fingers. Peering down at him, you can see his jaw clenching, the way it moves his temples, and the muscles in his neck straining as he climbs the peak of pleasure.

“If you think this feels good now, just wait until you're inside me,” you purr to him.

“Oh, fuck,” he drawls shakily at your words. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious or not. He wants so much to believe that it’s a promise, though. The idea that he could unbuckle his belt right now, free his cock from its restraints and slip your panties to the side and take you, just like this, with you on top of him and riding him for all he’s worth, that nearly does him in.

But he’s fighting to keep it at bay. To let this moment last as long as he can. Because it’s entirely likely that he’ll come and you’ll never want to do this again. It’s even more likely that he’ll wake up from this way too vivid fantasy he’s concocted in his brain. How good can dreams get until they’re nightmares again?

The hand on your hip darts to wrap around your wrist.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, gaze sober and sincere.

Eddie breathes out a tremble sigh of relief when you slow your motions against him. “I just…” he breathes heavily. And swallows. “I really don’t want to come in my jeans.”

You’re smiling again at that, pleased at how good you're making him feel. Like the pleasure is foreign to him. He can feel your grin as you lean down to kiss him. It’s a chaste peck, like you're just sprinkling yourself there so it can linger the rest of the night. 

Your kiss is far more fervent against his neck, wetter and more passionate. His skin has a faint taste of salt, like he’d been sweating. And he was, for the entire day that he anticipated your arrival, though there was never an ounce of him expecting this. You bite at the strained tendon and marvel as he shudders beneath you.

“It’s okay,” you leave your promise against his skin. “I’ll wash them for you after. Like a good little housewife—”

It was a joke and he knows it because you’re laughing at the absurdity of your words, at the reality of them. You’re probably the only person in the world giving your drug dealer a handjob for free weed and then offering to wash his damp bottoms when he comes in them — calling yourself his fucking housewife. But, for a reason he can’t explain, that’s what gets him.

Not marrying you, perhaps, but the idea that he could have this feeling forever. That you could bring him to complete and utter, blinding bliss and then take care of him while he comes back to earth. 

You give him an especially tough squeeze that sends a moan spilling roughly from his throat. His hips jerk up to their own according, his thigh jamming into your clothed pussy — he swears he hears you moan — and his toes curl in his boots.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he comes. He grasps your wrist and presses you further against him. His grip is almost too tight but you don’t mind it, not when you can feel the denim growing damp with the evidence of his orgasm.

Eddie doesn’t feel anything for a while after that. It’s just pure pleasure for several long moments. The fuzziness of his climax, your hand pressed against him, your warmth still pressed against his thigh.

But then the high fades away like a rolling summer cloud and he starts to feel the wet patch forming in his clothes. The fabric of his thin boxer starts to stick to him and he almost feels gross, like he’s a teenager again who can’t so much as look at a woman with needing to come.

But then he sees the way you look at him, grinning like a cat who got the cream — because, in some ways, you are. You look like you're proud of him. Like you’re secretly wondering how many times you can do that before it’s too much. He wants to find out too.

You plant another kiss to his lips. Just because you can.

“Take your pants off, Munson,” you mumble against his mouth, kissing him one more time for good measure before pulling away again.

“Oh— shit— wait, really?” he sputters. “I thought you were joking about— about me being… I— I don’t know if I have any condoms.”

He totally does, in an unopened box under his bed, collecting dust. 

You don’t need to know that, though.

“I meant for washing them so you can change,” you laugh at his embarrassment. The sound somehow makes him feel better even though you’re slightly making fun of him. You shrug and arch a brow at him, lilting, “But… I’m down if you are.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

[messyhairedhazeleyeddude]

‘ Blurry, Tired Eyes ’

A Drunk! Megumi Fushiguro x Male! Reader | SMUT |

A/N ; Yooooo, ngl, I’m running on zero right now yet I’m still doing this shit so sorry in advance. I don’t know how I honestly found the strength in me. It’s currently two in the morning and my ass is still up. Wide awake. So, I decided I was going to make this and finish it anyway. While staying up the entire night. Ain’t that fun? Anyway, here’s some random guilty pleasure prompt and peep the contents below.

Contents ; Masturbation, inexperienced reader, groping, drunk sex, praise, and daddy issues.

Dynamic ; Best Friends To Lovers

Sexual Dynamic ; Sub!Male!Reader | Dom!Megumi

P.O.V ; Second

Age range ; 18+ 21+

To be honest, you weren’t expecting this many people to show up after announcing the birthday party for Fushiguro. But, here you were, faced with an impending crowd all shoved up against one another, grinding and doing every inexplicable thing as they danced. I guess it’s what you get for entrusting Satoru with the planning.

This was the worst. You hated these types of celebrations and you knew Megumi hated them too. It didn’t help that you happened to be claustrophobic and everybody was sweating. Your face scrunched up, grossed out by the smell of liquor and onions. This was pure puke bait.

“And why the fuck does everybody have to be a whore?” You complained out loud before realizing you did so and watched a bunch of heads turn to look in your direction. That was not supposed to be said out-loud.

You took that as your cue to use your technique to disappear into the shadows and escape out of the situation by traveling to another place in the building. Although, it was extremely straining and gave you a headache once you made it into one of the hallways. Time to look for the birthday boy you’ve been trying to find all day.

Gazing up at the pictures that were hanging about, you looked over a couple that had your peers, hovering over to the stoic frowning Fushiguro who bore his eyes directly into the camera in the photo.

A small smile crossed your face, laughing a little at the memory of Itadori harassing the ravenette until he snapped just before it. Those two were always bickering back and forth, never giving each other a break, not once. It was entertaining to watch them chase each other around. Sometimes, joining in on it when it got out of hand. But, it was usually to hold Megumi back from killing the dumb guy.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself, maybe you also helped because you felt left out. The twinges of jealousy when Yuuji would get too close to his face or he’d get in a position with him that looked risqué. Either way, it formed a knot in your throat and you couldn’t help including yourself.

But, that couldn’t mean much. You figured it was because you were overprotective that this feeling frequently came to mind. Megumi had been your exclusive best friend for a couple of years by now. That had to be normal.

A part of you knew that there was more to it than what you were acknowledging. Though, you didn’t want to elaborate on it. There was no point in figuring something like that out if you hadn’t even crossed the flirting stage. And you didn’t know if he was interested in men.

The noise of an object thudding on the ground in the nearby room knocked you out of your mind ramble, causing you to jump in surprise before narrowing your (E/C) eyes at the door. You could sense it wasn’t a curse so that was good. That didn’t mean you were any less curious about who it was.

As you walked toward it, you could hear sounds from the other side getting clearer and clearer. And they didn’t sound innocent. It was groaning and huffing, desperate too. But, not just from anyone, no. This was the familiar voice of the boy you were thinking about a second ago.

Like a hypocrite, your heart felt like it was about to break. ‘He couldn’t be hooking up with somebody, right?’ you worriedly asked in thought, a wave of emotions washing over you before another loud moan muffled through the wooden door.

There was no way you were going to stop yourself from figuring it out after that. Apologizing to Megumi under your breath, you reached for the door knob and opened it to something you never expected to see instead.

The raven-haired male was completely naked from head to toe, leaning over a trash can with his left hand placed on the wall while the other was rubbing up and down his shaft.

His hair was drenched with sweat, strands sticking to his forehead, and his chest glistened in the lamp light. There were veins popping from his arms, neck, and most of all, his dick. His thumb focusing on his tip every couple of pumps as he mumbled out questions, “Fuck, why do I have to get so hard? Why won’t it go away?”

‘Jesus, fucking, Christ,’ was the only thing you could think. You were watching your best friend touch himself, bare. And it wasn’t taking you much before you were struggling right alongside him. The front of your pants tightening and a bulge poking through the fabric.

He noticed your presence once he adjusted to fucking his hand and took a minute to process, his dark blue eyes slowly widening as he stared back at you. You didn’t say anything, choked up by anxiety. Leaving the two of you to stand in silence, waiting for either one of you to break it.

Megumi covered himself with the sweater resting on the desk near him, eventually speaking up while trying to shake off the shock of being caught, “How long have you been standing there?” A red hue spread across both yours and his cheeks as you struggled to make eye contact. How come he had the ability to be so direct even during something like this? It was a quality that you liked, regardless.

You answered him in a quiet voice, “It’s been a couple of minutes…” Lowering your head out of embarrassment but not looking away entirely. You had just enough access to see what he was doing. And in that peripheral vision, you saw his attention flicker downwards.

Quickly, you hid your hard-on with your hands. Although, Megumi knew exactly what that gesture meant so it wasn’t successful. You could tell from the way his eyebrows switched from furrowed to raised like he was surprised. Then how more silence followed.

Not a single chance in hell were you going to look directly at him again, not when he was staring you down like this. You were hoping, praying to god that he wouldn’t point fingers despite not believing in that which meant you knew you were screwed. Was your friendship finally going to end here? What did this mean for the rest of the friends that are connected to you both? Panic was settling in the more he let you stand there.

“Can you close the door? I want to talk to you,” he asked bluntly after what felt like forever and honestly, that made your fear worse. “Please don’t say we can’t be friends because of this,” you interjected before he said anything else and closed the door like he suggested.

Fushiguro laughed through his nose and grumbled as if he was offended that you thought that, “Why would I want to end our friendship because you caught me jerking off, [F/N]?” Hearing him say it so casual made you get the comfortability to look at him again, seeing that he was picking up his clothes and acting like nothing happened.

He let you watch him get dressed, his back facing you the entire time, but you got the whole show. How he snapped his boxers around his waist, the indents in his back as well as the scars, and how his hair sprung back up into the spiky hairstyle he loved to style it in after he pulled his shirt over his head. You didn’t mean to stare, but it was really hard not to when you secretly admitted the feelings you have to yourself. And you just saw him masturbating. You saw his…

Not trying to finish that sentence in your head, you moved on by walking over to an outlet in what appeared to be an old classroom and kneeled down next to it to plug in the charger you brought. Thank god, you have an excuse now.

Awkwardly snapping it inside of the lightning port of your phone, you left it resting on a windowsill and turned to face Megumi. He was back in the outfit you had given him for his birthday. A cerulean sleeveless top with black Nike sweatpants. It was simple, yet he made it look like gold.

“Are you going to answer or are you going to keep checking me out?” He tilted his head, those wolf-shaped eyes of his burrowing into yours and making you unable to pry them away.

Your breath caught in your throat and all at once, thoughts became jumbled and you couldn’t figure out a thing to respond with. He was acting so careless just a second ago but now, he was flat out telling you that he knew what you were doing. What was going on?

Megumi sighed and rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to tell me. It’s obvious you liked what you saw. Your dick’s been rock solid this whole time.” He nodded his head toward your lower half, causing you to choke on your spit, and sputter, “What? No! No! I’m just drunk…” You struggled to breathe and had to hit your chest to help yourself. Hopefully, this excuse will hold up.

But, it didn’t. The ravenette began to walk towards you, his abyssal blue orbs never leaving yours once while you froze there. Until he was right in front of your face and glancing at your lips. “That’s convenient. I’m a little tipsy myself…” he said softly, looking back up through his long eyelashes.

God, he was so beautiful. You were beginning to fall for his tricks already. But, you didn’t care about how fast you went for it, you cared about the fact he was showing interest.

The pretty boy pushed forward, his hands placing themselves on either side of your head as his nose connected with yours. Your breathing escalated. This was happening. It was happening. He was going to kiss you.

Your eyelids fluttered shut while both of your lips locked with one another. His lips softer than a cloud and the pressure enough to relieve the tension in you. You had been waiting for this for so long. The tugging between his mouth and yours. When his teeth pressed into your bottom lip or how his lashes brushed against your skin. He tasted like Sake and somewhat bitterly sweet like dark caramel. It was worth every ounce of waiting. Every bit.

His hair brushed with yours and the palm of his hand reached up to cup your cheek, moving it to the back of your neck over time. At some point, he needed to pull away for air and as he did, the two of you were back to locking eyes.

The way Megumi was staring at you gave you chills. It was like pure lust clouded over his expression. He was giving you that ‘fuck me’ look so obviously that it made your knees slightly buckle. To follow up with that, he went straight to the point by sliding down one of his hands to your bulge and groping it. His voice smooth like whiskey when adding, “Can I take these off?”

You melted like butter in his hands, instinctively bucking your hips into him and groaning with a nod. It was crazy how bad you wanted this. The damp spot of pre-cum on your boxers getting bigger and bigger the evidence of that.

Fushiguro unbuttoned and unzipped your pants easily, hooking his fingers in the loops to pull them down to your knees. He kissed your cheek and the side of your jaw while continuing down with them until he was at your neck, searching for a secret sweet spot.

Moans cascaded out of you bit by bit during his exploration, getting sharper around an area he kept brushing past. When he figured out where it was, he suckled on the skin and abused it enough to where a huge hickey rested there. He got your boxers off as well and the moment his fingers touched you, your hand grabbed his wrist and tightened.

“Fuck! Wait! I haven’t done this with anybody else before! This is a lot to take in,” you exclaimed, panting and looking down at the sight of your naked bottom half right next to his covered hard one. Sort of wishing that he didn’t put his clothes back on.

Megumi didn’t seem to be phased by that. Instead, he figured out what you were looking at and got to stripping them off too. Once he was in nothing, he gave a soft smile and reassured, “It’s okay, [F/N]. You can trust me with this. I just… I really need to do this with you.” It worked and made you relax your muscles, getting closer to him unconsciously.

Then he leaned forward and pressed his tip against yours, wrapping his big, rough hand around them before spitting on it. Pumping it up and down, matching the pace he was going for himself earlier, and using the same hand now that you mentioned it. Your head rested back into the wall as you grunted out what you were thinking impulsively, “Fuck, daddy.!” You weren’t trying to say it, you just did. Outing a kink to him that you swore no one would hear a single peep about. That was what you get for attempting something slightly not-safe-for-work with a guy you’ve had freaky dreams about.

You scanned his face for any small detail of him feeling disgusted, weirded out, all of the above; you found none of that. Rather, he was seemingly in awe from how his mouth parted. It shifted into him giving a small smirk, letting out the most sexually frustrated voice you’ve heard yet in a whisper, “Keep calling me that… And don’t you ever fucking stop.”

Shuddering, you were letting more and more noises go that you didn’t know you could make and he was savoring every single one. Moaning along with you, fucking his cock against yours, and smearing his pre-cum over the both of you like it was lube.

The sorcerer got impatient. He needed something better than this. He knew what he wanted, the idea felt so right to him, he couldn’t suppress the urge to. You were right there, perfectly laid out.

Fushiguro guided himself down, using one of his hands to grab your thigh and move you to the desk. You placed both of your palms behind you to support yourself, just as ready as he was, maybe even more. With a rush of dopamine, you got the courage to dirty talk back, “Please… I want you… Daddy.” The nickname was hesitated on, but that was because this was all so new to you. How could he be so comfortable with this?

As low as it was, Megumi was pleased with the request and bit his lip at the sight of you spreading your legs below him. He never would’ve thought he would get you like this and fuck, he wasn’t complaining. Hell, he felt lucky.

He positioned himself against you, but teased by rubbing in circles. Making sure that you were wet enough for him to slide in with no issue. That proved helpful as his dick inched inside soon after, easing all of it until he could feel himself so deep that it was close to your stomach. You were gripping onto his arms, one on his bicep, the other on his forearm. Squeezing harder than you ever had.

It hurt so fucking bad. Like he was ripping you apart and forcing your body to succumb to him. Tears brimmed your eyes and he noticed it, stopping and keeping himself there so you could adjust. ‘Fuck’, he mentally cursed to himself, ‘It’s his first… I’m his first.’ A part of him got excited repeating that, proud of it. “Shit, sorry… I’m sorry, baby… Tell me when you’re okay…” Megumi rambled while placing a tiny kiss on your lips to make up for the pain. Never fucking a guy had its drawbacks.

Eventually, you got used to the fullness and it eased away into the pleasure you’ve heard so many things about. You gave him the go by nodding and tightened your grip to get yourself ready. A shocked gasp jumped out when he did the first thrust. It felt amazing. Too amazing.

You begged for more, “Please, faster. I want it. I want you to destroy me…” Losing yourself to the feeling of his huge dick fucking in and out of you, your cries got louder and desperate. Especially when his hand went to wrapping around your shaft to stimulate you even further. The pumping, the ramming, and his growls from his own enjoyment with your body all crashed down onto you.

Your edge was nearing, rushing at you with full speed, and coming closer by the minute as Megumi buried himself to where you could feel his tip poking out of your stomach. You cried out in pleasure, “Gumi! Fuck! You’re too deep…!” Arching your back and rolling your eyes, your dick started to twitch.

He chuckled and went faster with his hand, pumping the cum out of you basically and letting it explode onto your chest. It covered the majority of your lower half and dripped down as he continued to ram you into the desk. More sputtering out while he was fucking the high out of you. Your eyes were lazily closing, your mind becoming numb and dumb from the overstimulation.

Moans were blending together as your body threw a fit, digging your nails into any skin you could. He held you tightly there so you wouldn’t escape, doing you so hard now that it was sounding like everything was going to collapse underneath you.

Fushiguro praised you throughout this as an apology, “God, you feel so good… I can feel you holding me there inside… Like you want me to fucking breed you, [Y/N]..!”

That sent another orgasm over you and caused your cum to spill everywhere again, your legs sticky with it at this point. But, he kept going. He was so close. Right there.

The raven-haired man clawed at the edges of the desk when he was reaching cloud nine, thrusting in hard and passionate. He made sure to fuck his seed inside of you until it was like you were being bred by him. You knew you couldn’t conceive, but it sure as hell would be the case if you could. His muscles stopped tensing the moment he was done and he let out a satisfied sigh that was rare to hear, “If I knew sex with you was going to be that good, I would’ve made you my boyfriend sooner.”

With a peck on the forehead, he pulled out of you and let you catch your breath. ‘Boyfriend? He called me his boyfriend?’ that was all that could repeat in your mind as he walked over to where your clothes were scattered to clean. When everything was put away and he wiped up most of what he could off of the both of you, Megumi decided to have you come home with him. Walking out of the classroom together, he excitedly chimed, “Thanks for the birthday present, [F/N]!”

[pbsugarbaby]

ellie williams | soft hc’s.

— when ur gf is the most cocky but sweet girl. headcannons

warnings black femme reader , masc ellie , smoking , ellie being protective , college ellie , fingering (e rec)

౨ৎ ellie williams will always be the girl to be honest about your friends, not being shy to tell u they might be total bitches, the sweetest people, or totally wanting to fuck u. also will be the judgiest person, glancing at somebody random in the club and looking to u, hoping ur thinking the same thing. (u always are.)

౨ৎ passing the blunt back and forth with u, small giggles falling from ur lips when u see her using ur pink sparkly lighter. she specifically has pink paper for u.

౨ৎ also before u started dating, she would use those pink rolls for the girls she thought was the prettiest. once she saw u, she bought them specifically for u and only u.

౨ৎ giving u the cutest high eyes ever when u stand up, walking in ur small white panties and a pink lacy bra she picked out as u look in the fridge and pantry wanting something to munch on. her eyes scan ur body, ur smooth skin, ur bonnet, ur ass.. ur boobs..

“els, do we have any kettle chips? the salt and vinegar ones?” u click ur tongue, sighing as u scrounge through the bags and boxes of food in her cabinets. u soon notice she isn’t answering, only hearing small breaths and inhales she takes from the blunt.

“ellie?” u furrows ur brows, turning around. when u notice why she wasn’t answering, u scoff and grab a soft bag of some food, throwing it at her.

“babe!!” she whines, throwing the food back at u lazily.

“fuckin perv! now where are my damn chips?”

౨ৎ always the one to cheer u up during ur finals. u sat between her thighs as she helps u study, calling out random questions on a notecard she probably doesn’t even know the answer to.

౨ৎ will also be the one to hold u when u cry from stress, wiping ur tears and reassuring u.

౨ৎ she practices doing ur hair. and when u trust her not to tangle it or mess it up, she places little bows in ur hair, small braids scattered throughout ur curls, hands wet with hair product. and when she’s done, she shows u in the mirror, the proudest smile on her face as ur lips tug to a smile, kissing her cheek and telling her how good she did. (even if she didn’t.)

౨ৎ now when u try to put pink ribbons in her hair, she will run away, like a cat in water. “babe, i’m not putting fucking pink bows in my hair! im not trying to look like jojo siwa!” u pout and eventually convince her, smiling brightly as u squeal and give her a half up half down, holding it together with a ribbon. she doesn’t wanna admit it, but she loves to.

౨ৎ speaking of cats, u both definitely have a cat. it’s either a orange cat or a black cat.

౨ৎ at the club, she always has eyes on u. but sometimes she doesn’t, accidentally looking over to her friend and laughing, drinking away as she waits for you to be back from the bathroom. when she looks back though, she will defend and protect u with her life if she sees somebody bothering u.

u couldn’t even make it back from the bathroom before a man comes up to u, flirting with u. “i’m sorry, but im not interested.” u try to walk away, but his cold hand grips on ur exposed waist.

“didnt i just say i wasn’t interested? or are u just deaf? i have a girlfriend.”

he scoffs, not taking u seriously as he puts his other hand on ur body, making u flinch and step back, removing his hands.

“ehh, u just haven’t met the right man yet, i can show u..” he grins sneakily, making ur face scrunch up with disgust, body tensing.

before ur able to do anything, ellie pops up next to you, placing a kiss on ur cheek, hand rubbing the small of ur back.

“hey baby, we got a problem?” she chuckles dryly, only glancing at the man for a second, looking him up and down with a judgmental look plastered across her face.

he walked away real quick.

౨ৎ ellie will ramble about comics, space, and dinosaurs as much as she can. drawing shapes on ur thigh with ur finger as she speaks softly. where the fuck did she get these facts from?

౨ৎ always holding ur bags when u shop, handing u her credit card if u mention u like something online. u returning the favor by buying her things u think she would like, as much as she says she doesn’t need it. buying her small gifts 24/7, her doing the same. you were basically each others sugar mommy’s.

౨ৎ defends u no matter what in every argument or situation, ur always right.

౨ৎ let’s just say, when ur drunk out of ur mind at a party, dancing on tables and twerking on all ur friends. she will be the one to pick u up bridal style, throwing ur drunk ass into the uber while u sing stunna girl horribly.

౨ৎ neediest fucking girl in the world, because of her masc look people are convinced she tops. but once you touch the waistband of ellie’s boxers, her breath hitches and her hips roll softly, personality changing. “baby, please..”

౨ৎ either moans so loudly when u fuck her or is quiet, grunting and breathing heavily, tiny whimpers falling past her puffy lips.

౨ৎ when ur fingers plunge into her pussy, curling in the right spot and sucking her clit. her back arches and her nose touches the pillow under her head, trembling and playing with her nipple. “fu-fuckkkk! so fuckin’ good…” she groans, other hand holding ur head, trying to push u closer as u snicker at her.

౨ৎ will litter ur body in kisses during and after sex.

౨ৎ best at aftercare, always making sure ur cleaned up and taken care of.

౨ৎ ellie’s the best girlfriend, and if u ever try to break up with her, trust she will still text u in her 30’s.

i used to write wattpad stories so this is the best i got…

[starreadssstuff]

Finally - Choso kamo

Warnings- fluff, kissing and possibly insinuating other stuff, mutual pining

authors notes- YOU KNOW I HAD TO WRITE MY MANNNN. I love him HES SO SILLY!!!, anyway, his brothers are alive and the reader is a rambler.

Choso didn’t like to talk, words were hard for him, and he really was the most awkward person you had met. He just couldn’t express his feelings so he’d rather just be quiet.  The only people he usually talks to are his brothers, other than them, he stays quiet opting to speak only when need be. That was until he met you. At first, he had planned to do the same he did to everyone, speak when necessary. However, that was very difficult seeing as you loved to talk. You always talked to anyone you could, if they seemed available, you’d start up a conversation as quickly as possible. No matter how many slip-ups he would make with his stuttering you would just sit there, allowing him to gather his thoughts and to talk freely. He felt like you understood him better than anyone else, even his brothers. 

He had grown on you, just like you had on him. He really started to like you, you could sense it too, but neither of you had ever said anything. Choso had to do something, even though he wasn’t good with words, everyone says that actions speak louder. So he did something about it. After gathering so much information about you from your mini rambles you thought he didn’t care about, he made a plan. He had planned to buy you a book you had mentioned and… and what? Write a note? Maybe this was more difficult than he had thought. Does he just give it to you? Yes, he’ll just give it to you and you’ll move on, right? Wrong. When he handed you the book you were ecstatic! You squealed, drawing everyone’s attention, and hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe. While he was surprised, he wasn’t mad, he wanted you to like him, to hug him, to kiss him, and he got what he wanted. “Thank you so much Choso-san!” he just gave you a smile, not liking the attention you’ve brought to you two, but still wanting to be kind.

Later that day when he is finally ready for bed he gets a knock at his bedroom door. “Hi Choso-san! Sorry to bother you, Eso let me in, but I just wanted to say thank you for earlier today. That was really sweet!” you rambled, “yeah, of course, you said you wanted it so..” he trailed on. “Well to thank you, I wanted to give you this,” you hand him a beautiful silver chain bracelet, not too small but not too big, it was a casual accessory he could wear anywhere. As he grabs the bracelet and puts it on, you see his eyes brighten. When he lifts his head to look at you, you’re already looking at him, not expecting any words, but expressions of happiness or gratitude. That’s when suddenly he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss. While very unexpected, it was so relieving that he felt the same way. Choso was so happy you didn’t pull away from the kiss, he couldn’t believe that you hadn’t if he was being honest, he might have died from embarrassment. Suddenly you hear a whispered “Finally” from Eso who was walking by. Choso quickly pulled the two of you into his room and locked the door kissing you again.

[xenyasplacex]

Baby Trapped — Prologue

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!OC

Summary: Chris is in a toxic relationship and the only thing keeping him there is his daughter.

warning- Toxic relationship, Miserable Chris, Shouting, Abuse, Physical Abuse

A/N : Hey guys, this is the prologue to my new series, lmk if you guys enjoyed it x

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, REPOSTED OR TRANSLATED

IN THIS STORY THE TRIPLETS ARE 24 YEARS OLD

Nick woke up with start when he heard his bedroom door slam. He quickly turned on his bedside lamp as saw Chris stood taking off his slippers.

“What are you doing Chris it’s 2am!” Nick whisper yelled at his younger brother. Chris didn’t say a word he simply walked over to Nicks bed and layed next to him.

it was only now that Nick could properly see him. He had obvious tears in his eyes and a slight bruise starting to form under his eyes.

“Chris? What happened, what’s going on, what happened to your eye?” Nick rambled, clearly worried for his brother.

“It’s nothing Nick go to bed” Chris whispered as he layed his head on the pillow and closed his eyes.

“What the hell do you mean don’t worry, did Aaliyah do something? And where’s Adriana? and what the hell happened, why is there a bruise under you e-“

“Nick!” Chris shouted angrily, cutting his brother off. “I’m sorry for yelling,” Chris whispered back a few seconds later, “Aaliyah didn’t do anything okay, Adriana fell asleep in Matts room and nobody wanted to wake her up and i just… i fell okay? Now can we go to bed?” Chris rambled playing with the ends of the pillow.

“Yeah, of course i’m sorry” Nick replied quietly before turning of the low lamp. “Good night Chris.”

Chris didn’t reply, ages went by and Nick thought Chris had fallen asleep until he felt Chris move his arm around himself and felt his younger brother cuddle up to his side. Nick brought Chris in closer and wrapped both arms around him as if to protect him. With that Chris let out a content sigh.

“Good night Nicky.”

Nick was barely awake when he tumbled out of bed for a glass of water the next morning.

“i’m so sorry, i’m sorry,” Nick heard Aaliyah, Chris’ wife, say over and over again between kisses as he walked downstairs.

He took a quick look into the kitchen where he saw the Aaliyah kissing Chris all over saying how sorry she was while Chris stood there, not reciprocating the affecting but not pushing her away either.

“Whats she so sorry about?” A voice asked behind Nick making him jump a little.

“You scared me! And i have no idea, all i know is Chris came into my room crying last night and almost blew up on me when i asked if Aaliyah had done something.” Nick replied turning back to look at his sister in law who was now pressing long and hard kisses to his brother’s lips.

Nick simply gave Matt a look before going upstairs to look for his niece. 

This was a cycle. Aaliyah would do something, Chris would get extremely upset and then the next day she would be all over him, apologising and everything. They had all had enough of it but Chris couldn’t let go. Not when he had a daughter with this woman and she knew enough to destroy their career and so the same thing kept happening over and over again.

Until it ended.

HOW I IMAGINE EACH CHARACTER

Adriana Sturniolo

The Child

4 years old

Aaliyah Sturniolo

The Wife

23 Years Old

NOT PROOF READ

Next chapter

[xviiigumix0]

GO FOR IT, FUSHIGURO ! +_+

1097 words 𓆏 gn! reader fluff, cursing, no use of capital letters.

megumi had a big fat crush for you. and the idiot didn't even notice until nobara pointed it out.

''i don't know...'' fushiguro mumbled as sank into the couch ''everytime I see them i feel...nauseous, as if there's something on my stomach'' he closed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest ''those are called butterflies, you dumbass'' kugisaki's voice rang from the kitchen, as she finished cooking her breakfast ''hey!'' megumi frowned ''those cannot be butterflies, y/n is my friend'' he protested against nobara's teasing before quickly being cut off by her, yet again 'yeah, a friend you have a big fat crush on.' she sat on the dining table, in a way she could be seen by megumi and yuji who were on the living room across, as the first cheeks grew crimson.

''i dont wanna agree but, nobara's onto something, actually'' yuji chimed leaning forward on his seat towards fushiguro, who covered his face with one arm, shifting in the sofa ''well, even if i did like them, the fuck would i do about it?'' megumi exclaimed in annoyance. he had known you since he entered jujutsu tech, you've always been friends, but lately, something had changed. whenever he saw you he felt a fever incoming, he felt his hands trembling and and something similar to a wave of nausea, what is wrong with you he thought, all of a sudden things were just different around you, or even at the thought of you. he couldn't shake you off his mind, but yet, he did not feel so good around you, physically.

''tell them.'' nobara and itadori chimed in unison. and all of a sudden fushiguro's face flushed hot, quickly sitting up and shaking his hands ''no, no...i cant do that, were just friends and what if...'' he trailed off, his words becoming more of a ramble to himself. because, to be honest, he has thought about telling you, he has thought about it a lot, megumi already had every single scenario meticulously organized from bad to worst in his head, in his mind there's no way you like him.

''oh my god, fushiguro can you shut the fuck up? y/n likes you, i would know.'' nobara argued, taking another bite of her waffles. ''just go for it, fushiguro'' yuji encouraged, standing up next to megumi, tapping his shoulder ''and if they reject you, we can cry together'' he reassured.

''i won't cry'' megumi rolled his eyes.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

''how did i agree to this?'' he thought to himself and sighed, bouquet in one hand, chocolates in another. someway, somehow, kugisaki and itadori brought him into this. ''maybe i should just text them, tell them it was nothing...''

the three of them had organized a perfect plan for fushiguro to confess, at the end of the day, you and megumi would meet up in an empty classroom under the excuse of megumi having a plan to prank nobara (she did not agree to that). and as the sun set, he would tell them everything he felt, they even wrote script which took hours to complete since fushiguro wasn't exactly fond off his friends teasing him for his feelings for you. nobara and maki managed to discover your favorite flowers, and itadori interrogated you about the food and specially sweets you liked, saying one day he'll invite you out to eat. the plan was perfect, totally foolproof, except for one detail.

megumi's heart was pounding in his chest, cold sweat down his face, his cheeks kept getting hotter each step he took towards the classroom you two would be meeting in, his mind was going a hundred miles per hour. until he stood in front of that door. he suddenly forgot about everything he was thinking about, his mind going totally blank.

he silently opened the door, and closed it behind him as he made his way over you, holding the flowers and the chocolate box behind his back, quickly going over everything he wanted to tell you. ''y/n'' he said in his usual, stoic tone, giving no signs of nervousness or doubt. you turned around, facing him. good lord. just in that moment, he totally processed why he liked you, the way the sunset hit you skin, your eyes, your hair, it was simply perfect. and the way you spoke to him, always so nice and sweet, can a man ask for more?

''fushiguro!'' you smiled so brightly when you looked at him, there's no question of why he loved you.

he took a deep breath at his own lack of words, flushing at your sight.

''is everything goo-''

''i love you''

''what?'' you softly stuttered

''i always had, i... i planned this for you and...'' he stumbled over his words, forgetting the whole script he had planned and bringing both his hands closed to his chest as he held your flowers and chocolates. ''its not going how i planned to'' he finished, looking at you, almost vulnerable as he poured his heart out.

'' fushi, i...'' you found yourself blushing as you stared at him in surprise

''this is your you'' he extended his arms, offering the gifts, you gladly accepted them

''i thought you were avoiding me.'' you stated taking the gifts with both your hands ''i thought i did something wrong''

he opened his eyes wide, fuck.

he took a deep breath, thinking how he could explain it to you, i love you so much it makes me sick didn't seem like the best option right now.

''i'm an idiot y/n, i'm an idiot that didn't want to accept how much he like you'' he stated, putting his brows together as he leaned in closer to you, the sunset making his eyes shine ''i did avoid you, i didn't know how to...react to my feelings so i...i'm sorry, im stupid'' he shifted his eyes towards the floor, now avoiding your sweet gaze

''i...love you too, idiot'' you said, smiling to yourself, managing to get a gasp out of him. you placed the box and the flowers in a desk, and stepping closer to him, you cupped his face with both of your hands, making him look at you ''you're really stupid, but its a part of why i like you so much'' you laughed, making you touch your foreheads

megumi closed his eyes and took each wrist on his hands lovingly ''are you not mad at me'' he mumbled after some seconds ''i couldn't be'' you answered softly.

''can i be your boyfriend?''

''i would be glad to accept you as my boyfriend''

haaiii:3 this is kinda risky to post since is my first writing post, but fuck it im doing it. also, im sorry if anything i write sounds kinda weird or out of place, english is not my first language and it was just kinda implanted into my brain in 6th grade so i never truly 'learned'.

anyways, i hope you liked it !11!!!1!

-kat / gumi :3

[yandere-wishes]

Long ramble anon here, I'm happy you liked my long ask I was just concerned that I put way too much as I have a tendency to hyperfixate snd overexplain, hence the tldr at the end. To be honest ever since seeing the fox beastman I've been on a bit of a kick with theorizing things for him. (Did the same thing with Rollo hehe) Anyway, if you want some more of my takes I'm happy to share.

Alright so you know how beastmen retain some of their animalistic traits? Well my brain immediately goes to what this means for their romantic endeavors and courting behaviors. Not much is known about the courting process for foxes, but we do know that scent marking and loud vocal barking is used to attract a mate. How does this carry over to a humanoid fox? Well, my theory is that he will likely give his darling something like his coat, or spray whatever cologne he uses on their things or use more of it when he knows he's going to see them. As for the loud vocal barking you better believe my mind immediately went to him just belting out a serenade for his darling, regardless of how he actually may sound I think he's self-assured and prideful enough to believe this would definitely entice his soon to be mate.

Another interesting thing about foxes is that they are monogamous to a fault, rarely ever taking another mate after the passing of their partner, instead remaining loyal until their own passing (at least this was what I've read in my admittedly surface level research). To me this means two things, 1) once Fellow sets his eyes on a darling that's absolutely it for him regardless of how he has to get them by his side it is an inevitability so if they would just be a good dear and surrender early on everything could be so much better, and 2) should anything unfortunate befall to his darling he wouldn't ever fall for anyone else and likely never fully recover emotionally.

Tldr; The fox man would woo his darling with his surely illustrious (at least to him) voice and his cologne or perhaps natural pheromones, and once he woos them Fellow would never so much as look at another in the same light.

Don't apologize Anon!! I love it when people send in long asks about their hyperfixations!! It feels so endearing and sweet and makes me want to give you a big hug!! I'm literally the same when it comes to hyperfixate and overexplain, when I'm obsessed with something (TV show, movie, game, etc) I need to feel it in my veins!! Plus being able to chat about it with people on Tumblr is always one of the best parts!!

I can't stop laughing at the thought of Fellow sending his darling with loud obnoxious barking 🤣🤣 Bonus points if the reader is a regular human and just stares at him confused, while Leona, Ruggie, and Jack just nod in approval in the background (or in anger and disbelief, depends on the scenario). The idea of him sharing his cologne and jacket with Reader is actually really sweet. I like to think that some ways down the line if Fellow ever had to go away for an extended period of time. Reader would just cuddle into a corner hugging his jacket and spraying some of his cologne on herself. He'd be so delighted coming home and smelling his scent so strongly on his beloved.

I love this!! Just Fellow knowing that reader is the one from the first look 😍😍😍😍 He's so smitten and lays on the charm extra thick. Wanting them all so badly and doing anything to get them. If Reader should die (Lord forbid) Fellow definitely wouldn't get another partner BUT he'd also go the extra mile and try to resurrect them. Magic exists in Twisted Wonderland so I'm sure someone out there has the ability to raise the dead. He'd do absolutely anything to hold you in his arms again.

Look Reader is getting a really sweet deal here. A tall handsome man (+ bonus he comes with A SUPER FLUFFY TAIL AND EARS) with a smooth voice, and a charming personality. Willing to give her anything, do anything for her, and make sure she had the best life imaginable. He's physically incapable of cheating and would fawn over the reader like a lovestruck puppy. He's literally just perfect!! Ignoring the manipulative tendencies, obsessive behavior, and ability to maim someone with his teeth😊😊

[hxltic]

• established relationship

•Genre: smut

You’re in the lonesome bathroom of the party correcting your makeup when Rin suddenly makes his way through the door. He hastily closes it behind him. How it wasn’t locked? You have no idea.

You expected his arrival, just not as grand as this. It wasn’t new. It wasn’t new to always call and find each other as if seeking refuge. The mirror reflects his hands trudging up his face to brush through his hair, meanwhile the mascara wand waved idly in your hand when you quipped, “Who ya running from?”

A course “Nobody” was all you received. You thought he’d just come in and sit on the toilet seat to talk or waste time with you.

Finding a stopping point, you turned to him and your fresh eyes trailed his body leaning on the door. He looked paler than usual, dark hair falling over his weaker, heavily red-tinted face. The mascara clicked into the bottle and tightened as you twisted.

“Rin are…are you okay?”

He sighed and one hand fell to the doorknob while the other fell to his pocket.

“…If I’m being completely honest, no. Come here please,” he huffed out. He was breathless like he rushed up here to you. You guess it was a random call from him that you put on speaker over the trap music, however, you didn’t ask why he needed to see you so instantaneously.

You took slow, incredulous footsteps forward to his chest in the already tight space. Clearly you weren’t fast enough because he cupped your face—both hands—and tugged you close.

“Look at me,” he ordered. Your eyes focused on each of his earnestly. “You know I love you right?”

“Yes.” A distrusting countenance slowly morphed onto your face, matching your previous steps.

“You know you look so fucking good, right?”

“…Rin where is this-“

“-I think my drink was spiked. My drink was spiked with something and I’m saying I’m sorry now because I am just one fucking word away from bending you over this counter. It needs to be yours.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you examined his face again, confirming he did look a little sick. Except not the coughing sick; the lightheaded, desperate need that can make you delusional sick. You were terrified to look down.

“But won’t that stuff still be in your system? you need to throw it up or something before-“

“I can’t be sure but it doesn’t feel out of the ordinary, like a viagra or something. I’ll do whatever you want after. Just need to be inside of you in the next ten seconds before I pass out.”

He was rambling in a pitch slightly higher than usual, desperation seeping off his words. His chest motioned up and down with each difficult breath he took gazing into your eyes, upturned brows not-very-patiently awaiting your response. Hey, it was a party after all.

You kept your eyes trained but turned to give yourself up to him.

The slim eyes lit up. A single palm forced you down by the middle of your upper back, effectively bending you over. He did it so swiftly you could’ve taken it as routine.

Hands situated and caressed your waist in admiration, hips following suit as you pressed them back into him. His fingertips dug holes through the sequin covered fabric and into your skin, the obvious print rubbed right between your legs with the dress flipped up, and the friction was sending him away.

Oh god he needed it so bad, all his hormones at peak and the first thing on his mind being you. He knew he needed to stretch you out and he knew how especially good that pretty pussy would taste spread for him on the counter, but his dick was quite literally throbbing.

He may have realized it a little late considering he had a high sex-drive anyway, but this was something completely different. He was so hard it hurt. So when he called you, shoving through people as you gave him your location in the house, he was already overheating from swarming throngs of people and the alcohol swimming through his blood.

So when your slit rolled perfectly over him he had to undo his pants immediately.

“I can leave it to you to wear no panties to a party.”

“Gotta give ‘em a show,” you giggle.

With the clank of his belt and its drop to the floor, he taunted, “Only one of us is taking the show home.”

Suna was already a pretty impatient person, so when a finger dipped into you slow and welcoming he had to add another. A squelch sound came from the way he pumped into you as if you were already ready to take him.

[mattmurdocksscars]

Exes

Summary: After a dare to call an ex goes the opposite way you thought it would, you and Matt reconcile.

Word count: 3k

It started out as a normal enough night. You and your girl friends had gotten together after a long week and were having some drinks. Then someone suggested shots. Then someone suggested truth or dare. And that's how you found yourself in your current position.

Your phone was held in front of your face on speaker as it rang. You had been dared to call an ex and after a moment of panic, you'd realized exactly who to call. There was no way he would pick up. Not only had the two of you ended on bad terms but it had also been quite some time since either of you had spoken to each other. Plus, he had nightly activities that would keep him busy. So surely he wouldn't answer-

“Hello?” You froze as Matt's exhausted voice cut through the chatter of the bar. All of your friends immediately began to giggle, covering their mouths to hide the sound. When you didn't answer after a moment, Matt said your name with concern. Clearing your throat, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I didn't think you'd answer.” You heard the sound of him moving around on the phone followed by a small hiss of pain.

“Of course I answered. You never call. So clearly something must be wrong.” Your brain was quickly putting together the hints he was giving off, even in your inebriated state. He was obviously home, exhausted, and the sound of pain he'd let out all told you he was hurt. Without further thought, you took your phone off of speaker and walked away from the table, much to the disappointment of your friends. You told Matt to wait a second before you moved so you were outside the bar where it was slightly quieter. 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called. To be honest, it was a stupid dare from my friends and I genuinely thought you wouldn't answer.” Matt sighed on the other end.

“It's… fine. I just thought… nevermind. I'm glad you're okay. Do you need anything else? If not, I'm gonna go.” His voice was cold but you could still hear the exhaustion.

“Are you okay?” You blurt out, before you can second guess yourself. The line is tensely silent and after a minute, you find yourself rambling

“It's just that I can hear the exhaustion and pain in your voice. I don't mean to pry but I'm just worried about you. Did you get hurt again?”

“You're worried about me?” You feel your cheeks heat at his question and look down at your feet, kicking the pavement.

“I-...of course I am. It sounds like you're really hurt. I know we're not together anymore but that doesn't mean-” Your brain catches up with what you're saying and you abruptly cut yourself off.

“Doesn't mean what?” Matt asks, his voice quiet but hopeful. You sniffle, feeling tears prick at your eyes as the realization really hits you. You miss him. So damn much. And in your inebriated state you can't help but to tell him the truth.

“It doesn't mean that I don't care. Because I do, Matt. I care so much. I miss you so much. Where did we go wrong?” You ask brokenly. Matt's heart shatters at your words and he grunts as he gets to his feet.

“Sweetheart, where are you?”

“Why?”

“Cause I'm gonna come get you. You're obviously drunk and I don't want you walking home alone.”

“No, Matt, you're hurt. You don't need to be worrying about me right now.” You wipe your eyes and sniffle again. “I'll be okay. I'm sorry I called.”

“Are you?”

“...No. I'm not. I missed your voice.”

“I missed yours too.” Matt admits quietly. “I'm sorry I couldn't be who you wanted me to be. I know you wanted me to give up Daredevil but-”

“No, Matt, no! I never wanted that, I just wanted you to slow down some and take care of yourself. You were so hurt all the time and it got to the point I was scared you wouldn't make it home at night. I never wanted you to stop, I just needed you to understand that you were running yourself into the ground.”

“You- Really?” 

“Really.”

“All this time, I thought… God, where did we go wrong?” 

“I don't want you coming out because it sounds like you're hurt but… can I come to you? Can we talk this out?” You bit your lip as you waited on a response. 

“Are you sure you're sober enough for this?” You laughed, hearing the teasing edge to his voice.

“I will be by the time I get to you. Please, Matt? The thought that we could fix this…”

“It is a very tempting thought.” Matt murmured. “My place is a bit of a mess but it's open to you. It always will be.”

You immediately grinned and turned back to the bar.

“Let me pay my tab and say goodbye and I'll be there soon.”

“Stay on the phone with me? Since you won't let me come get you.” You chuckled but agreed. Swiftly, you paid your tab, said goodbye to your friends, and hurried to Matt's. The entire time, the line hung open between the two of you. Soft conversation flowed freely and you felt yourself getting giddy the closer you got to Matt's. By the time you reached his apartment complex, you were almost breathless. The alcohol had worn off on the brisk walk and you were almost wishing for the liquid courage it would have provided you. Instead, you pulled open the door and hurried up the stairs. You made it to Matt's door and got ready to knock when the door swung open. Still holding the phone to your face, hand comically in the air, you grinned. 

“Hi.” You breathed out. Matt smiled at you nervously, ended the phone call between you two, and let his hand fall to his side.

“Hi. Come on in.” He said softly. He stepped to the side, and you entered. You kicked your shoes off and slowly walked down the hall into the living room. You took everything in, from the empty beer bottles on his dining table to the open bottle of painkillers on his coffee table. Turning back to him, you looked him over.

He was dressed in a hoodie and sweats. The hoodie was zipped all the way up for once and you knew it was to hide the extent of his injuries. His hands were tucked in the pockets of the hoodie and he slowly made his way over to you. You felt sympathy well up at the way he was limping and opened your mouth before you could think it through.

“Are you sure you're up for this? You look like you're in a lot of pain.” You told him. His glasses glinted in the light from the billboard as he tilted his head at you. There were bruises hiding behind the lenses and across the bridge of his nose. His lip was split and it highlighted his frown.

“I'm fine. Like you said, the thought that we could fix this is something I can't ignore.”

“We could always fix it later, when you feel better.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“Not at all. Just worried about you.” Matt sighed and walked over to you. He hesitated before reaching out and taking one of your hands in his. You welcomed the touch and told him so by gently squeezing his hand.

“I'll be okay. I promise. Now, do you want anything or should we just get into it?” 

“Let's just get into it.” You told him. You gently squeezed his hand again before separating from him and sitting on the couch. You leaned forward and put your elbows on your knees, looking up at Matt.

“I am so sorry that I made you think I wanted you to stop being Daredevil. That is the last thing I wanted. I know how important it is to you and I would never come between you and your nightly habit. That being said, I did want you to slow down. You were getting so hurt and it killed me to spend my nights wondering if you were even going to make it home because you kept going out even when you were really hurt. If we're going to reconcile, I need to know you're going to take better care of yourself.” Matt nodded slowly at your words. There was a frown etched across his face and his head tilted as he regarded you. 

“I'll be honest, since we've been broken up I've been more reckless. With no one to come home to, I felt like there was no point in being home. Not that I'm blaming you or saying it's your fault. I just spiraled. Foggy and Karen had to set me straight. They made the point that if I ever wanted balance in my life, I was going to have to take more time as Matt and less time as the Devil. It took some time but I finally got it through my head. I'm actually home tonight because I'm healing. As you've already guessed. I won't trouble you with the details but it was bad. This is my second night home. Even with Claire patching me up, I knew I needed to give my body time to heal. So I like to think I am taking better care of myself.”

“Oh, Matt. How bad is it?” His sightless eyes darted back and forth as he shrugged, shifting on his feet. 

“Not as bad as the Nobu fight but close. Claire and Foggy stayed with me through the next day. Once I promised them I was staying home for a couple of days and would take care of myself, they left. When your phone call came through, I… I was so nervous. I was afraid you were calling because you were in trouble and I was too hurt to help…” Matt told you quietly. You teared up at his last words and put your hand over your mouth.

“I'm so sorry I scared you like that. But at the same time…I'm glad I got dared to call you. If it's alright with you, I'd like to keep an eye on you. Check in on you over the next couple of days as you heal.”

“Even if we don't work things out?” The tip of Matt's mouth curled up and you laughed.

“Even if things don't work out. But I have a feeling.”

“You have a feeling?”

“Yep. I have a feeling that everything's going to start getting better from here.” You smiled up at Matt, who finally moved to sit down next to you on the couch. He left plenty of room between the two of you and a part of you longed to close that distance but you let him have it for now. 

“Wow. So you're psychic now?” Matt teased. You laughed and settled back into the couch, turning to face Matt.

“Totally. That's how I really knew to call you. My new psychic abilities.” That caused you both to laugh though it was cut short when Matt gasped in pain and clutched his side. You immediately sobered watching him flinch in pain.

“When was the last time you took anything for pain?” 

“It's been a bit. Probably due for something.” You immediately stood up and headed to his kitchen, opening the cabinet he kept his cups in and pouring him a glass of water. You returned to the couch and took the painkiller bottle off the coffee table. You knocked out enough pills for a dose and then handed them and the water to Matt. He softly thanked you and took them. It was quiet for a few minutes before Matt finally spoke. 

“I missed this.”

“What? You, writhing on the couch in pain? Masochist.” Matt smiled and shook his head.

“No. Having you here. Being able to hear your heartbeat and know I'm not alone.” He admitted quietly. 

“You're not alone, Matt. You've got Claire, Foggy, and Karen to keep you company.”

“Yeah, but they're not you.” You suck in a sharp breath at his words. It never really occurred to you that Matt would miss you so much. You'd thought he would just keep himself busy and be fine. You realize now it was selfish of you to think of him like that. You hesitantly reach out and grab his hand.

“Do you want to try this again? I'm willing to give it a shot if you are.” You tell him and the smile that lights up his face has your heart skipping a beat. You'd almost forgotten just how handsome Matt could be.

“I'd love to try this again. I promise I'll try to be better. I don't ever want you to feel like you don't matter to me. Because you do. So much.”

“You matter to me too. And don't change too much, okay? I love you for you, Matt.”

“Say it again.” He whispered.

“Which part?”

“That you love me.”

“I love you, Matt Murdock.”

“I love you too.” 

And so the two of you spent the next couple hours catching up. You told him everything that had happened in your life since the two of you split and he did the same. It wasn't until you realized it was almost 2 am that you realized you should probably leave. You told Matt as much and he frowned.

“Don't go. Please? It's not safe out there this late. You can stay here.”

“Is that a good idea?” You asked him. 

“I'll stay on the couch if it makes you feel better. Just don't try to walk home this late.” He was serious and you could tell the idea of you leaving really made him anxious.

“Alright, I'll stay. But you're staying in your bed, mister. You are too hurt to be sleeping on this couch.”

“But-”

“Those are my conditions, Matt. I won't have you hurting yourself more for me.”

“Okay.” He sulked. But he stood up and pulled a blanket and an extra pillow from the closet, handing them to you. 

“Thank you. Goodnight, Matt. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He shuffled his way over to his room and carefully laid down. You noticed he kept his rolling door open and smiled. 

“If you want clothes to change into, you know where to find them.” Matt called out. You nodded and quietly padded over to his room and pulled out an old shirt and some pants. You then disappeared into his bathroom. Once changed and ready for bed, you laid down on the couch and pulled the blanket over you. You noticed Matt was breathing evenly and were glad he was already asleep. You settled down and let yourself drift off.

Only to be woken an hour later by Matt's quiet shouts. You immediately shot up and ran over. Realizing he was having a nightmare, you gently carded your fingers through his hair and cooed softly.

“It's okay, Matt. You're safe. You're just dreaming. Wake up, baby. It's okay.” You just kept whispering sweet nothings to him until he finally lurched awake, eyes darting everywhere in his panic. Once he seemed to realize where he was, he settled. He swallowed thickly. 

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Will you…  will you please stay with me? I don't think I can go back to sleep on my own.” You nodded slowly then rounded the bed and crawled in beside him. There was a tense silence for several minutes before you finally sighed.

“Come here, Matt.” 

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You're not going to. I know you're not going to go back to sleep unless we're touching, so come here.”

Matt didn't say anything at first, he just laid there. For a second you were worried you had made him uncomfortable but then he sighed and carefully rolled over. Your heart broke for him and how badly he seemed to hurt. Before you could second guess yourself, you opened your arms to him.

“Come here, Matt. I've got you.”

Matt's breath hitched and then he was moving. He crawled into your arms and settled himself on top of you, laying between your legs with his head on your chest. You heard him inhale as if to say something but before he could, you settled your arms around him. He immediately relaxed into you, a soft rumble coming from his chest. You ran your fingers through his hair and gently rubbed at his back. Before long, you felt your shirt start to get wet and you felt your own eyes tear up.

“I missed you so much, sweetheart.” Matt said brokenly. “Please don't leave again. I'll do anything just don't l-”

“Shh, Matt. Calm down, I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm here and I've got you.” Like a dam breaking, Matt fell apart right there in your arms and all you could do was hold him through it. The sobs that wracked his body had to hurt but it didn't stop them from happening. You did your best to soothe him, assuring him quietly. Slowly the sobs began to fade and his breathing finally slowed as he calmed down. The odd tear still fell from his eyes but he relaxed and let himself sink into your arms. 

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize, Matt. Everything has clearly been hard on you and you finally let it out. That's okay. I'd rather you let it out then bottle it up.”

“Thank you. For holding me and for being so understanding.”

“I'll always hold you and I'll always try to be understanding.”

Matt smiled and dug his head down into your neck, taking slow deep breaths.

There, wrapped in each others arms, the two of you slowly felt the broken pieces of your hearts start to heal.

[lovebugism]

hi bug! could I request a fall back to school blurb with eddie and shy!reader, where he sticks up for reader in school against a bully? I love hurt/comforts!

ty for requesting lovely! this is sort of a part 2 for this drabble, but can be read as a stand-alone fic!! — eddie has a talk with jason when he finds out he's been messing with you again (mentions of bullying, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 1.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie picks red and orange leaves from your hair. His touch is perfectly gentle despite the red-hot rage burning houses behind his ribcage. 

You’re a shaken-up mess in the back of his van. He knows Jason did something to you — you just won’t tell him what.

He pries, anyway, though, trying his best to keep a nonchalant air about him so you don’t shut down completely. Outside the open trunk, he stands in between your legs and takes care of you. It feels like human nature to do both.

“What happened, babe?” Eddie wonders with a forced laugh, plucking a brown stem from the crown of your head. He flicks it to the pavement below you. “Did he, like, trip you into a pile of leaves or something?”

He’s smiling so sweetly at you, but you know he’ll flip if you’re honest. 

You purse your lips to the side and shake your head, turning your glassy eyes to your swaying feet. 

“No, he…” you start, then exhale a trembling sigh. 

You don’t want to lie, but you don’t want to make it seem as scary as it feels. You twist your hands in your lap and ramble in a quiet confession. “I was walking to our picnic table to study, and he snuck up behind me, and I had my walkman on so I couldn’t hear him, and… I’m just— I’m just a baby, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

Eddie’s brows pinch as his face twists in something short of confusion. “Uh, yeah. It is,” he monotones, then scoffs out a laugh. “Honestly, I thought he knew better than to mess with you after what happened last time.”

He’s talking about that evening at the arcade — the last time you had the utter displeasure of running into the douchebag of Hawkins High. The whole “the only shooting Jason Carver does is into a kleenex” thing from when summer still felt like summer. 

Everything’s grayer now. And colder. 

You feel a lot of the same. 

You shoot Eddie a half-hearted glare at the memory he won’t let you live down. He meets it with a crooked, pink grin — your own personal sunshine when the real thing is hidden behind thick clouds. You melt for him all over again like you always do, feeling like a child as he plucks pieces of dead leaves from your hair.

“There,” he announces as he untangles a sizable yellow leaf from the strands. It floats down to his dirty sneakers. He cups your jaw in his abnormally warm hands and gives you one more once over. “I think that’s all of ‘em, babe.”

“Yeah?” you ask, just to be sure, as you smooth your palm over the back of your hair.

“Yep. You’re good as new. Beautiful like always.”

You roll your eyes with a poorly hidden smile. You’ve been together too long for him to flirt with you like he does. You wonder if he’ll ever stop, or if he’ll treat every day with you like it’s the very first.

“Always a charmer, huh?” you hum with a lovesick grin.

“For you,” the boy croons, leaning closer so he can press a kiss to your mouth. His rosy lips smack audibly against yours in a chaste peck that leaves you grieving the moment he’s gone.

The worn heel of Eddie’s sneakers scuff against the rocky concrete of the parking lot when he parts from you. He goes without a word. You watch him with a gaping look of bemusement.

“What— Where are you going?” you call to him, trying ignore the melodramatic twisting of your stomach. 

You’d already missed class — too shaken after seeing Jason and too needy for Eddie. You thought he might keep you company until next period. God knows he’ll take any excuse to ditch Mr. Kaminsky’s chem class.

Eddie turns back around to look at you but doesn’t stop inching towards the entrance. He shrugs his leather-clad shoulders with a cheeky grin. “Oh. You know. Just got regular business to attend to.”

You deflate. Regular business for Eddie Munson often means complete and utter chaos. 

“Don’t do anything stupid… Please.”

“Me?” Eddie scoffs, bringing a hand to his chest as though you’ve wounded him in some way. “Of course not!”

—————

Eddie roams the vacant halls of Hawkins High with his hands balled into fists. He’s got no intention of using them for evil — Yoda always said to use the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack. They more so shake with the withheld fury of not being able to avenge you. 

What kinda boyfriend would be if some douchebag was fucking with his girl and he just let it happen?

Then he finds Jason in the empty corridor of the west wing. He comes out of the bathroom in all his muscled glory, dressed in baggy sweatpants and a too-fitted tank top, and it feels sort of kismet. 

If fate didn’t want Eddie to do something, fate wouldn’t have put the douchebag directly in his way, right?

“Hey, Jason!” Eddie lilts in a tone so chipper it has to be sarcasm. “What are you doing down here?”

Jason meets the boy’s wide grin with a look of bitter confusion. “None of your business, freak,” he bites in response, walking past the wild-haired brunette as though he wasn’t there at all.

“I beg to differ, tough guy.” The nickname spills from his mouth, coated in venom. “Everything you do became my business when you started messing with my girl.”

Jason’s gruff laughter fills the vacant hallway. He turns back around, flashing a pearly-white smile. “Wallflower’s still with you, huh?” he singsongs, then shrugs sympathetically. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little surprised to hear that.”

“Yeah. She is, actually,” Eddie nods with a beam. “As a matter of fact, we just went on a double date with Steve and Chrissy. Harrington told me to say hi, by the way.”

The blonde boy goes suddenly grim at the mention of the girl who got away. His thin-lipped smile ebbs into a frown. His chiseled features sharpen when his jaw clenches. “Watch it, freak.”

Those words stopped being threatening the first time he said them. After the millionth or more, it just got redundant. 

Eddie huffs, impatient and annoyed. 

“Alright. Here’s how this is gonna go, okay? Seeing as you’re a little toodense to listen when my girl told you to leave us alone, I’m gonna spell it out for you,” he monotones, inching towards the boy with his hands on his hips. “Either keep messing with us, and I crack that pretty face of yours, or you can leave to be a douchebag with a nice jawline another day… How’s that sound?”

A beat passes. 

A laugh sputters from Jason’s mouth a second later. 

Apparently, he finds Eddie’s newfound confidence as strange as it feels. He might be a loudmouth sometimes, but he’s certainly no fighter. And even though he knows this just as well as the next person, the anger of not being taken seriously stings like a searing knife in his chest.

“Oh, and I have razor blades hidden in my hair, by the way,” Eddie monotones, using his freakazoid reputation to his advantage. He smiles when Jason goes somber. “Yep. Mm-hmm. All up in there—”

“You’re fucking crazy, man,” the blonde boy scoffs, choosing not to call his bluff and walking away entirely.

Eddie waits until Jason turns the corner to let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. It trembles on the way out, forced through a tightening chest. He wipes his sweaty palms on his black ripped jeans — not a fighter, indeed.

“Razor blades?” a familiar voice calls from a little ways down the hall, accompanied by a soft giggle that sounds like heaven.

Eddie lifts his head and finds you walking towards him — turning the opposite corner that Jason had just left from. Your hands are tucked into the sleeves of the sweater that swallows you whole. You wrap your arms around yourself, making yourself as small as possible yet taking every ounce of his attention just the same.

With furrowed brows, his gaze darts between you and the empty corridor. “How did you…?” he asks, then trails off with a laugh. “I didn’t even know you were here.”

“I’m Wallflower, remember?” you grin, wearing the name people use to taunt you like armor. “I’m basically the queen of hiding in plain sight.”

“Yeah?” Eddie hums with a smirk. His smile widens when you inch closer to him.

You shrug. “It’s just a superpower. No big deal.”

His fingers curl around the outsides of your elbows when you’re standing toe-to-toe. His touch is warm and firm, but still gentle as he squeezes you. He rubs at your arms with his thumbs. 

“So…” he singsongs and tilts his head to the side, making his wild curls bunch at his shoulders. His chocolate eyes dance with sincerity and amusement. “What’d ya think?”

“I think you were very brave,” you answer honestly, but with an inflection that sounds like you’re teasing him.

Eddie’s gaze narrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Eds… You’re a nerd who plays D&D for twelve hours straight, and Jason lifts weights in his spare time.”

“You don’t think I could take him?”

“I know you couldn’t,” you retort, too sincerely for his liking. 

The sting in his chest ebbs when you uncurl your arms to splay your palms over his collarbones. Your smile sparkles, quite like the twinkle in your eye. 

“But you’d try. For me. And I, for one, think that’s very brave of you, Ser Munson.”

You’re right. About all of it. 

Eddie would fight for your honor like it was one of his Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. And he’d lose — quite miserably, probably — because what Jason Carver lacks in brains, he makes up twice in muscle. But you’d patch him up after, and it’d be worth it.

Instead of saying all that and stooping down to the sap you are, Eddie deflects with a joke. “Ooh,” he croons lowly. “Ser Munson, huh? I like the sound of that… We should save that one for later.”

You swat at him, but your softness lingers.

Eddie’s boyish laughter fills the vacant halls. His smile is too pretty not to kiss.

[chilschuck]

I'm not sure how to put it into words on what I exactly want outta this, but please give us a Chilchuck x Tall Woman Reader.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ hi anon!! i hope this is okay! i kinda did a mixture of hcs with a drabble, just something put together for you! thank you so much for your request, this is so cute!! <3

— CHILCHUCK x fem tall-man!reader

꒰ warnings: ꒱ sfw + fluffy goodness with this emotionally constipated man. enjoy!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 524

✦ this was so fun…. fem tall-man is so funny to read… tall-woman?? idk anymore. holds my head in my hands. i think this turned out more gn, but i tried. :”)) please enjoy!!! feel free to submit the request again if you’d like me to do more for it!! <3

✦ Chilchuck was used to being looked down upon, something he experienced both figuratively and literally. It came with being a half-foot, and that was the cold, hard truth. Yet, for a reason he couldn’t wrap his head around, he felt warm around you.

✦ Maybe it was your smile, or the way you managed to make him feel like you were always on the same page. It didn’t help that you weren’t bad to look at, on top of being possibly one of the easiest people to talk to he’s come across. He could continue to play it off as just a perk of working together, which was something he planned to do. But things were never that easy for him.

✦ Chilchuck was stubborn. He knew what worked and what didn’t, and he surely wasn’t going to put everything on the line for some tall-man. Yet…

✦ Watching you interact with the rest of the party, the kindness you exude and that comfort you brought with you, made him start to crumble. You were wearing away at the wall he built up, faster than he had the ability to rebuild it.

✦ “I look up to you, Chilchuck... For all you’ve done for half-foots, the way you show others not to underestimate you. It’s really amazing.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at your palms. You had suddenly felt the need to tell him what had been on your mind, and there wasn’t any way you’d let this stroke of courage go.

✦ You bit your tongue for a moment. The last thing you wanted was to make him think you were sucking up to him. Clearing your throat, your gaze sought out his.

✦ Surprisingly, you had managed to catch him off guard. You… look up to him? His brow furrowed, really taking in what you had said. Cheeks rosy, he opened his mouth to speak, only to grow silent again. Dammit.

✦ You… You made it so hard for him to articulate a thought. Especially when you looked at him like that. What was he supposed to say? That he truly respected you, too? That he didn’t think you were too bad? Not to mention, the way you always looked out for him didn’t make him feel inferior for once? Ah… Shit.

✦ You were used to being honest, so it didn’t strike you as how it might maybe be too much to say in the moment. Swallowing sharply, you tried to catch his attention.

✦ “Sorry… I just mean that I really, uhm, enjoy having someone like you around. Is that too much? Sorry. Let me clarify—“

✦ Mind reeling, grabbing at straws from realizing just how deep the waves of his feelings had crashed into his psyche, he waved a hand at your words. Your name left his mouth softly, stopping you in your rambling.

✦ “That means a lot… Thanks.” A beat. “And stop saying sorry so damn much.” Chilchuck mumbled, a gloved hand scratching the back of his head in bashfulness.

✦ Who thought he’d be catching feelings for a tall-man…

dividers by @/cafekitsune!