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stellar-skyy · 7 months

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FAMILY (OF SORTS) — Platonic Fatui Harbingers & reader.

i. SUMMARY: The Fatui Harbingers have a soft spot for Arlecchino's child. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! iii. NOTES: STRICTLY PLATONIC, headcanons, fluff, parent!arlecchino, house of the hearth!reader, all of the harbingers are reader's weird aunts and uncles, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 1.6k words. iv. A/N: the fatui are just a dysfunctional found family and i will die on this hill. shoutout to @romaritimeharbor for listening to my rambles about this idea 🫶🫶 also pierro and pulcinella aren't here because i could not think of anything to write for them :')

All of the harbingers knew about Arlecchino’s child; the one that appeared in Fatui Headquarters stuck to her side, eyes cast to the floor. They all saw the way that Arlecchino had held a soft grip on their shoulder, guiding them through the halls with the gentle touch of a parent from the gentle hands of a monster.

The Knave always swore she didn’t play favourites, but from an outside view it was clear that they held a special place separate from the rest. Anyone could see the way they appeared so much more frequently by her side. They were permitted to sit in on meetings, following her like a shadow. Some of the Harbingers guessed that she had picked them to be her successor; that their frequent shadowing was training them to take over once she was gone. Others joked about Arlecchino’s apparent soft side taking over. Whatever the reason, time went on, and the Fatui saw more and more of them.

All of them varied in their opinions of them—some indifferent, some fond—but the Harbingers all cared for them in their own ways.

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Columbina simply adores them. They’re just so small and cute, so tiny and fragile! Admittedly, her idea of ‘tiny’ is rather skewed—applying to anyone she deems weaker than her (notably, this label also gets given to Capitano and Tartaglia, despite their larger size and physical strength. The Damselette is truly an enigma.)

Whenever Arlecchino allows her to watch over them, she is delighted. She has a penchant for pet names, so ‘angel’, ‘my sweet’, and ‘lovely’ are all more commonly used than their name. Sometimes there’s a ‘baby’ or ‘bub’ if she’s feeling particularly affectionate, but no matter the name, it is always dripping with sweetness. She’ll sing to them too, to calm them down or get them to sleep. Her voice is gentle, laced with as much love as she would show her own child.

Some Fatui believe Columbina is a woman formed from hollow sweetness; that behind the lazy smile and soft voice, lies a callous and unfeeling heart, but her insistence on singing them to sleep comes from a place of genuine affection.

When they have to return home, she’ll kiss their cheeks and sweep them into a hug, making them promise to visit her soon.

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The fact that Arlecchino would tear out his throat with her bare hands if he dared to look at them the wrong way is the only thing stopping Dottore from roping [Name] into one of his experiments. Even then, he can’t help but investigate them a bit. Nothing extreme—please put the knife down, Knave—just some simple trials to see how they work. A quick strength assessment, a test of their reflexes, enough to judge the effectiveness of the House of the Hearth’s training.

The segments all had different opinions of them, varying from Prime’s general indifference to some of the younger segments fondness towards them. The latter were less likely to try to trick them into the lab—not that Arlecchino would allow them anywhere near it without strict supervision—and instead focused their efforts on convincing them to help mess with the rest of the Dottores. They proved to be an excellent partner in crime to thoroughly ruin the older segment’s day.

Despite his assertion that he won’t harm them, Dottore tends to be the one Arlecchino trusts least around her child. His unwillingness to get on her bad side doesn’t stop her from insisting Columbina or herself accompany them whenever they visit his lab.

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Tartaglia loves them. The days he gets to see his siblings are few and far between, so he’s always eager to play the older brother for them, and for any other House of the Heath kids that stop by. In fact, whenever any of the children visit, he makes sure to buy them plenty of sugary treats and candies before quickly sending them back to their Father.

(Arlecchino was not happy the first time this happened. It didn’t stop him from doing it every time, though.)

He was the first to convince them to call him Uncle, a feat that he bragged about to the rest of the Harbingers. This small incident would inadvertently lead to a petty competition to see who their favourite is, an event that would quickly spiral out of control with bribery and promises coming from all sides.

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Sandrone is very particular with who she allows in her workshop. When the rare guest was allowed inside, they had to follow three simple rules: do not touch anything, do not move unless I tell you to, and do not talk to me while I work. When [Name] first stumbled into the room, she was prepared to discourteously shoo them out the way she did whenever Tartaglia poked his head in to see what she was working on. But after some extensive begging, she relented and sat them down in a corner to watch her work.

Even if she is far less fond of them as some of the other Harbingers, she still audibly squeaked the first time she was called Aunt Sandrone. This was covered up with a cough, but nothing could stop the warmth blooming in her chest. It was the first time a living creature had addressed her with such a familial title; some of her synthetic creations had a habit of calling her Mother, but this was a living, breathing person.

After they started calling her that, she quietly told them they were free to visit when she was working—provided they did not interfere with anything.

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As much as he denies it, Scaramouche has a big soft spot for kids. He’ll swear up and down that he doesn’t care for them at all, but he treats them noticeably gentler than he treats any other member of the Fatui. Arlecchino once caught them huddled against him, using his wide-brimmed hat to shelter from the rain. She never let him forget that moment—the fearsome Balladeer, who notoriously never let anyone close enough to touch him, allowing her child to use him as an umbrella.

They remind him a little too much of the young boy he once considered his family. Whenever he spends time with them, there is something inside that both urges him to protect them in the way he couldn’t protect that child, and warns keep them at arm’s length before they betray him too. But his endearment towards them prevailed, and he begrudgingly allowed them a place in his heart.

Unlike Columbina’s affectionate pet names, the only nicknames Scaramouche gives them are ‘kid’ and ‘brat’, depending on his mood. On good days, they might even get called by their name, though it is a rarity. He cares for them, truly. In his own, strange way.

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Capitano is the best at giving advice out of all the harbingers. He is much more down to earth than Columbina and Dottore, and far less cynical than Scaramouche and Sandrone. He’ll let them ramble about their frustrations freely before offering gentle suggestions on what they should do to help. Even if they aren’t looking for a solution, he’s patient enough to hear out their thoughts, however jumbled and incoherent they may be.

He also likes teaching them skills he deems important for a young person to know. These include cooking—Tartaglia is not allowed to join them in these lessons after he almost burnt down the kitchen trying to ‘help’—as well as sewing and mending clothes.

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Pantalone never would describe himself as parental. He never cared too much for kids; he hadn’t enough patience to deal with constantly crying babies or needy toddlers. Arlecchino’s child was thankfully far above that age, so they were less unbearable to deal with.

He was quite happy to spoil them with extravagant gifts and treats to win their favour, but the most effective way he does so is simply spending time with them. Trips to luxurious restaurants for lunch, allowing them to shadow him while he works. He also likes to give them advice—completely unasked for—about life, and relationships. Unlike Capitano however, his advice is of a much less helpful; he has a habit of advocating for blackmail for solving problems.

In exchange for a box of the most expensive pastries in Teyvat, he got them to call him their favourite uncle in front of Tartaglia. The miniscule dent in his funds was worth the look of betrayal on the younger Harbinger’s face.

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Signora easily took the longest to warm up to them. When she first met them, it was easy enough to label them as Arlecchino’s brat and move them from her mind. But they kept appearing, in and around the headquarters. At first they were always glued to the Knave’s side, but eventually Signora began to see them wandering alone through the halls. She took note of them—not out of any attachment to them, only out of self-preservation knowing that if Arlecchino found out her child landed themself into trouble while she was close by, it would be her funeral soon.

The sense of obligation faltered when she started to grow fond of them. They were irritatingly innocent, a rarity within the Fatui. Something about the spark in their eyes reminded her of when she was young—when she still had warmth in her heart and blood in her veins. For the first time in centuries, her frozen heart began to thaw with care towards another person, and begrudgingly, she began to accept that they were not as unpleasant as she once believed.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

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cupidsdolll · 3 months

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The Feeling Came Late

Prologue

pairings: grumpy!college student!Harry x fem!sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter .5/? (wc: 1.5k)

masterlist

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Fond memories ignored, thrown away in a second as if they meant nothing to him. Like the years of laughter were all just a dream, but they’re not. They were real and it drove him crazy. Harry only stared at the wall, face red and tears streaming down his face angrily. He didn’t know what to do, he was lost. He was angry, angry at the world, at himself because that was his best friend and at her.

He was just a boy, a kid when it happened. Happy in his “prime years” of high school, he was thriving academically and socially. He was on top of his class work and one of the top students in all of his classes, alongside his childhood friend. They stayed friendly whenever they competed against each other, giving their congratulations when the other won in anything. Harry enjoyed the thrill of trying to be the first one to turn in his assignment though, he enjoyed the friendly banter they shared afterwards and during. It became their normal, he looked forward to it.

Then it happened, and he was left broken. A shell of the smart and extroverted boy he once was. He can remember every detail of that day, he had just come home from hanging out with his childhood best friend – they had just gotten done studying and finishing the last episode of the season of their favorite TV show – when his mom walked alongside with him. The ride back home from her house to his was silent, filled with a sense of sadness and Harry couldn’t understand why she wasn’t happy. His mom was happy when she dropped him off at school that morning. She sat him down in their living room and said that this was important, and told him. She kept apologizing and trying to reassure him that everything was being done, tried, efforts were being done. They were going to fix this, help him.

Of course, Harry’s just a kid who’s already dealing with all the new emotions of puberty and teenage feelings, so he screamed at her. Yelled something along the lines of “No, you’re lying and I hate you” but that’s still up for debate, he doesn’t think of this day often. He’d stormed away from her crying figure, her apologies are no good to him, won’t make everything better. He cried, screamed and threw things. He destroyed his room, tearing down pictures and throwing trophies, his vision was blurred from all of the tears in his eyes. He hated himself, it wasn’t his fault though. Nothing he could’ve done would have changed what happened, he couldn’t have stopped it. He knows that deep down, but he has to put the blame on someone, and it only makes sense that it has to be him.

When he calmed down some, he’d taken all of his pictures off the wall, he couldn’t look at all of the times he was happy. It only reminded him of the feeling in his chest, and he stashed them all away in a box to be kept in his closet. Out of sight, out of mind he hopes will be the cause, but he kept two pictures. He couldn’t bear to have them forgotten, even if they were going to be locked away still. They were special, the people in the picture were special. They’ll always be special, so he cried some more as he placed them in his nightstand drawer. He spent the majority of the night crying, the tears seemed never ending and he hated it. He ignored his mom calling him for dinner and his sister who knocked on his door to check on him. She only sighed and reminded him that she loves him and will be there for him if he needs anything before she left him alone and headed back to her own room.

Over time, he changed. It wasn’t gradual though, it was very noticeable. He stopped trying to compete with her, stopped trying to be the first anything. He stopped raising his hand, stopped putting efforts into presentations and powerpoints, stopped caring. He started getting into weed, he refused to try any of the harder stuff – not like his friends would give him any, they still had somewhat good morals and he also tried drinking. (A good thing about having older friends is the easy access to these types of things.) He stopped wearing soft and colorful clothes and started wearing darker clothes, jeans with rips in them and short sleeved shirts tight enough to showcase his growing muscles. He worked out more, wasn’t the lanky little boy she used to know anymore, his language expanded, started using more curse words and his tone grew disinterested and mean.

He knew she watched him from a distance with sad eyes, he knew she tried to help him. He listened from his doorway as his mom talked to her, saying any excuse she can think of to not worry the little girl.

‘Harry’s just not feeling very good, dear.’ ‘Harry’s just tired, he’s had a long day.’ ‘You know teenage boys can be difficult dear, he’ll come around soon,’ and other excuses were told to his friend when she came to check on him. He couldn’t exactly make out what the girl was saying in response to his mom, she’s always been such a soft speaker, and it upsets him more. He just wants to be left alone and she cares so much for him that she just want to help in any way, and he doesn’t want to be rude and tell her to fuck off so he has his mom deal with it. She’s the emotional support thinker, not him.

After a couple of minutes he hears the door shut so he closes his bedroom door and sits back on his bed, the two pictures laid out on his bed as a reminder of the love for his two closest friends, but also as a reminder of the pain he feels and the tears shed over something that wasn't his fault, the blame he put on himself. He sighs sadly as he looks at them once more before he gathers them and sets them in his nightstand drawer. He tries not to look at those pictures too often, he hates how they make him feel. Any time he looks at his best friend’s photo, it fills him with overwhelming sadness, bitter and hurtful. It fills his chest and makes him feel like he’s drowning in sadness, there’s sometimes a hint of anger but that’s never at him. It’s always directed towards himself, not his friend. He could never be mad at him, he was the closest guy friend he’s had and will ever have, he won’t have another one. When he looks at hers, it used to be happiness, love and adoration but it’s turned into anger and jealousy. Her name will always leave a bitter taste in his mouth, his lips will always turn into a frown at the fleetest thought of her.

He hates her, hates how smart she is, how she’s always somehow better at everything than him even when he spent hours working on something. He loathes how she just always knows what to say. He hates how she never fell off or even wobbled off the hill she was on no matter what was going on in her life. He dislikes how much he wishes he could be like that. He abhors how much even though he wants nothing to do with her right now that he still longs to be those little kids playing together and studying and gossiping. He especially hates how deep down he hopes that she’ll wait for him or beg for him to let her in, how he actually wants her to fight for their friendship. He loathes how much he misses her.

Instead of acting on those terrible ideas in his head on rekindling their friendship, he focuses on his popularity. High school ends and during the summer he experiments with his look, becomes a ladies’ man and immerses himself in that. He enjoys sex, the feeling of it all. The intimacy of something shared between two people, the feverish kisses and the sounds of his partners enjoying themselves. It’s a very good distraction from the one person who doesn’t seem to leave his mind. His reputation as a ladies’ man and a very skilled person grows, he becomes popular not only with the ladies in school but also with the fellow jocks of the school. He dabbled a little bit in the sports aspect of his education, he also tried out for the soccer team at his school. He’s always loved the sport, even as a little boy, something about the running and kicking balls amused him. He was also a pretty fast learner which helped his case a lot, but he still passed. He dabbled in a lot of different sports, not wanting to tie himself down to just one thing which applied to multiple different areas in the boy’s life. He tried anything to rid himself of one of the two names that haunts him no matter what.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles masterlist #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x y/n

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ickadori · 9 months

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++ 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐄/𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

[summary] uraume doesn’t like you, but sukuna has taken an interest in you, and there isn’t a thing in this world that they wouldn’t tolerate for lot sukuna, even if it is you.

[cws] fem reader. uraume hates you! they want to cook you, and mention it quite a lot -> mentions of cannibalism, but no one is actually eaten…yet. true form sukuna for the win. uraume very much has the hots for sukuna. team effort oral -> sukuna receiving. fingering -> reader receiving. threesome.

[an] inspired by this -> link. sosososososos happy this was planted in my head m going insane actually.

Uraume hates you, indubitably.

You were a human, a sturdy one to be able to withstand Sukuna’s affection, but a human nonetheless. While their views on humans weren’t as grandiose as the likes of Geto, they still deemed them as beneath them, and anyone beneath Uraume had no business being in the presence of Sukuna, and yet you had been kept around.

They hadn’t known what Sukuna wanted with you at first — they had originally intended to cook you into a meal fitting for their king. You had plenty meat on you, and the king was often… hoggish when it came to his appetite, so you would have done a good job in being a filling meal, the only things humans were good for in Uraume’s eyes.

Sukuna had nearly beheaded them the moment a knife had been pointed in your direction. For whatever reason, you were special. It baffled them, entirely, completely, it still does. They had spent so much time watching you, observing all the things you did; the way you walked, the way your eyes nervously flitted about, never venturing past someone’s collar bones, the way you brushed your hair, the way fed yourself, how your fingers held the fork and knife (quite clumsily, may they add. You were clearly due for a lesson in etiquette.), how you tried and failed to properly tie your kimono, forcing them to fix it for you lest you both be on the receiving end of Sukuna’s wrath. Appearance is everything, didn’t you know that?

Speaking of appearances… you were pleasant enough to look at, but Sukuna had an endless sea of pleasant faces to pick from, ones that came with a bit of training, so what had drawn him to you specifically?

They couldn’t put their finger on it, and they guessed that it ultimately didn’t matter. You made their master happy, and they could tolerate you until you inevitably landed in his bad graces, and then they’d serve you up to him on a silver platter.

On the day that Sukuna had angrily called for them, they had thought you had finally done it, and had quickly come to his call with a pep in their step and a glint in their eye.

Uraume didn’t find extreme amounts of pleasure in killing others, it was simply a part of their job, but they can’t deny that the thought of being rid of you elicited a response similar to ones they got whenever Sukuna bestowed his praise unto them, something that hadn’t happened since you had wormed your way into their kingdom.

Yes, as humans say, Uraume was jealous. They were envious of the attention Sukuna gave you—and you were so greedy. You took it all and held onto it with an iron fist, scared out of your wits that he’d grow bored of you if you loosened your grip even the slightest bit, because then you’d be up for the pickings.

When Uraume finally made it to Sukuna’s quarters, the sight they were greeted with wasn’t a foreign one. He was sat on the bed, kimono pooled around him, while you kneeled between his legs, your own clothing nowhere in sight. His cocks were hard and twitching, fat dollops of pre-cum sliding down the shafts, coupled with the remnants of your saliva, or perhaps your slick.

So you had failed to please him, as many often did. One cock of that size was too much for most to handle, let alone two, and you were human, after all.

“Lord Sukuna.” Uraume drops into a deep bow, their head touching the cool floor and staying until they’re given permission to stand. “How can I assist you?” Would Sukuna have them dice you up and turn you into a nice stew? Or perhaps he’d like something a little more raw… Human meat and muscle tended to be tough and dry, if not properly prepared, but Uraume had done this for centuries, and was kept around for a reason.

They’d make you into a meal worthy of being consumed by—

“Train her on how to take me.”

Pardon?

“You.. don’t wish for me to dispose of her?” That fiery flame flickers in his eyes, and Uraume rushes out a thousand apologies, hand placed over their heart as they lower their gaze. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my Lord. I shall do as you ask.”

This task has never before been requested of them, and they find themself at a momentary loss as they lower themself to kneel beside you, eyes scrutinizing you while you avoid their gaze. They quickly gain their bearings.

“Do I have permission to touch her, my Lord?”

“You do.”

“Open your mouth.” You look to Sukuna for confirmation, and Uraume bristles. As if you’re so high above them that you don’t immediately do as they say, tuh. With a nod from Sukuna, you’re hesitantly opening your mouth, and they insert two fingers, the pads of them pressing down on your tongue. They ignore the way that you gag and tears spring to your eyes, your clenched fists shaking on your bare thighs.

They push their fingers in deeper, making you violently gag as your throat constricts and you quickly jerk your head back. “I see what the problem is.” Their fingers are slick with your saliva, and they just barely resist the urge to wipe it clean on their clothing, figuring that Sukuna would take it as an insult. “You’re not relaxing your throat and jaw when you take him - allow me to demonstrate.”

Uraume turns to Sukuna, a flutter in their stomach as they direct a question his way. “Permission to pleasure you, my Lord?”

“Do as you please.”

They fall into habit easily enough - hands bracing against the thick meat of his thighs, tongue swiping out to wet their lips before moving to trail up the underside of his cock before placing a wet, gentle kiss on the head, quickly giving the other the same treatment. His scent is heady, strong, and Uraume breathes him in deep before their lips are wrapping around the dark, uncut tip, jaw and throat relaxing as they take him all the way in, nose pushed into a set of wiry curls.

Uraume cuts their eyes at you, lips stretched wide around the cock in their mouth, and find that you’re watching with apt interest, thighs not so subtly rubbing together as rock back onto your heel that’s positioned underneath you.

Greedy — putting your own pleasure before Sukuna’s. It’s unacceptable, and they rectify it with a swift snatch of your hair. You’re pushed towards his neglected cock, and you’re given a moment to prepare before it’s pushed into your mouth, Uraume’s hand on the back of your neck forcing you to take him all in.

You choke and gag, the action bringing forth a deep, guttural groan from Sukuna, and Uraume watches as he brings a hand down to grip your hair at the roots, his other holding the side of your face. Uraume’s nails bite into your skin before they can stop it, and you cry out as best you can, hands pushing at Sukuna’s stomach as your tears flow freely.

You’re flailing now, and Uraume has half a mind to let you fail again, not caring if they’re on the chopping block as well, but Sukuna comes before everyone else, first and foremost.

They pull their mouth off of his cock with a wet sound, strings of saliva and pre-cum stretching from their lips to the dribbling tip, and quickly lick it away as they place their hand around your throat, right where they can see the bulge formed. “You have to calm down.” Their thumb gently rubs against your skin, voice low and as soothing as it can get as their free hand smooths down the expanse of your back and over the curve of your ass. “Breathe through your nose - yes, just like that.”

Their fingers find your cunt, wet and plump, and two easily slip inside, walls eagerly sucking them in. “Move your tongue against him, he likes it.” You make a noise of complaint, and they tighten the hand around your throat. “You now live to please him, so please him. Move your tongue or I’ll—” A violent shiver wracks their body as Sukuna’s energy spikes, and Uraume softens their voice again, fingers twisting and rubbing as they search for that special spot that always renders the most skittish, stiff women into malleable, pliant dolls.

You finally do as they say, judging by Sukuna’s reaction, and Uraume keeps up their ministrations on your cunt, fingers plunging in and out, resulting in a lewd squelch, the sound barely audible over the way you occasionally gag and moan. Their gaze trails over to Sukuna’s neglected cock, and deciding that you’re doing a decent enough job now, they move to take him back into their mouth, fingers still moving inside you.

With your previous resistance gone, Sukuna takes it upon himself to move you back and forth on his cock, veins on the back of his hand bulging as he ruts into your mouth. Uraume does well enough on their own to be exempt from the treatment, head bobbing and hand fondling at heavy, full sacs as they suck, tongue gliding along the underside of his shaft, even occasionally mushing against his tip and pushing into the slit there.

Knowing him as well as they do, Uraume knows that Sukuna will come soon, and they suck in earnest, messily slurping and swallowing as his thighs tense under their touch. You suddenly tighten around their fingers, and a glance to the side shows your lashes fluttering, your jaw slack as Sukuna pulls out of your mouth, only to push right back in and bury himself to the hilt. Uraume does the same, welcoming the spurts of cum that trail down their throat as they eagerly swallow.

Your name is on Sukuna’s tongue as he pulls out of your mouth, and Uraume watches in distaste as you cough and splutter, wasting the cum that he had so graciously shared with you, and they find themselves leaning forward before they can help themself.

Their lips collide with yours, tongue licking into your mouth as they collect the remnants of cum inside, and they ignore the way you arch into them and grab ahold of their haori, fully focused on getting every drop they can. With a gentle suck of your tongue they finally pull away, and they blink at the way you follow them, eyes lidded and hazy as you try to go for another kiss.

They let you, not wanting to incur Sukuna’s anger for denying you, and you messily kiss them, although it’s more of a mash of lips and teeth as you moan against them and pant into their mouth.

Sukuna laughs, and a warmth spreads throughout Uraume when one of four hands comes to rest atop their head. “It seems as though you’ve gained her affection - you should be honored.” Hardly.

Sukuna hauls you up into his lap, and Uraume thinks their presence is no longer needed and begins to stand, only for the hand on their head to tangle in their hair and force them to their feet. “You’re not done yet.”

Confusion swims in their eyes, but it’s quickly sated when they see that Sukuna is ready to go again, one of his cocks nestled between your folds as you pathetically hump against it, hands grasping at his shoulders as you tip your head back, moans and cries bouncing off the walls. “As you can see, she’s quite greedy.” His hand roughly gropes at your ass, and he lifts you with little effort before placing you back down on his cock. He only gets the tip in before you’re gasping and clawing at his shoulders, head fruitlessly shaking back and forth as you babble out nonsensical words. “And inexperienced. I trust that you can fix this.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

#sukuna x reader #uraume x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #uraume x sukuna

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edenavari · 8 months

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On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else.

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed.

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right?

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps.

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him.

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger.

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts.

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again.

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope.

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic.

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested.

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss.

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life.

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief.

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute.

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge.

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own.

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious.

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats.

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget.

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

Give us a kudos, if ye dare x

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie oneshot #first kiss

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l0sercat · 4 months

Text

NSFW alphabet with King Baldwin IV

Please note that this is not the historical figure but the movie version. Also MDNI for my sake and yours.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He's a god at aftercare. Literally will get you whatever you need or want. He puts his needs last. When you take care of him he is shy, but very thankful.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn't like his body that much due to his leprosy. He has to admit he was good looking before and during which he loved his hands, but now they're covered in sores. So maybe his eyes. He loves everything about you but more specially your hair. He loves his soft it is and he likes playing with it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves cumming inside you. He wants to get you pregnant so bad, he wants and heir to the throne when he eventually succumbs to his illness. Even if you can't get pregnant he still loves to cum inside you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He gets hard every time he sees you naked. Even if it's not in a sexual context. Taking a bath. Boner. Get dressed boner. Hell if you give him a kiss and shower him in praise he gets hard. He can't help it just loves you so much.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He is a total virgin. No experience. I mean he's a strict Christian so obviously no sex before marriage. He is super happy that your taking his first and he gets to experience these pleasures with you.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He really likes doggy. You can't see his scarred body which is a plus. He also likes how he can hit every angle in this position. He wants to make sure you feel good.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Serious 100% He views this act as sacred and something that your taken care of. Making a joke would just ruin the atmosphere.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Does leprosy affect pubic hair? I personally believe that he would try to keep it tame down there. It's not perfect but he put in the effort and that's all that matters.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He is sweet and a little clumsy but it's his first time so. Your pleasure is always number one. You'll have at least three orgasms before he has one.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does not masturbate. He views it as an unholy act. The only way he will cum is by your "hands". Even thinking about masturbating grosses him out.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise. Oh my gosh does he love when you praise him. He feeds off of your praise. He performs better if you praise him. Especially when he cums and you praise him he will go wild.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

The bedroom. He'll only do it there because it's the safest. Why would he fuck you anywhere else?

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He really wants to get you pregnant, but at the same time he doesn't because he doesn't want his kid to have leprosy. So it's more so that he just really wants to be close to you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation. To him or you. If you say something degrading he will not stand for it and make you apologize immediately. And he could never degrade you because he thinks your near perfect. It would literally kill him to degrade you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He wants to give but is afraid he'll be bad at it and it probably might hurt his scarred skin. He doesn't mind receiving but is awkward the whole time. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He is slow until he is on the edge and picks up the pace a bit. His leprosy effects him a bit in this department. He can't go to fast or all his stamina will deplete.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

No, he prefers to take you properly. Also quickies just wouldn't be good because y'know he's king and all. He has not time to quickly fuck you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

No he is comfortable with what y'all have now and that's all he wants.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He has bad stamina because of leprosy, so he can't last long. But he makes sure you'll have many orgasms and feel overwhelmed with pleasure. He always prioritize your pleasure over his.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Toys weren't even invented back then lmfao

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't tease, much. He'll never deny your orgasm but he'll gently poke fun at the way your face is all red and teary eyed.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He isn't very loud but he doesn't hold back his voice. You'll hear everything that comes out of his mouth.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He likes when your on top and gently take you fingers through his hair and whisper praises. And maybe call his your king or majesty.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's about 5-6 1/2-inches long and kinda thick. It has a little scaring due to his leprosy but it looks normal. It is not cut but he does clean it well.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It's not high but not low. He wants to do it more frequently than he does but his body can't handle it. He feels repulsed by himself but seeing you moaning his name makes him feel better.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After your both cleaned up and taken care of he falls asleep pretty quickly. Your in his arms sleeping and then he falls asleep.

#x reader #gender neutral #gender not specified #gender neutral reader #kingdom of heaven #koh #kingdom of heaven Baldwin #baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv #Baldwin x reader #yandere Baldwin #yandere king Baldwin #yandere Baldwin iv

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dvrcos · 8 months

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Aaron may not have an eidetic memory like Andrew does but he has a damn good one and he can remember anything he puts even the smallest amount of effort into remembering.

After everything that happened in Baltimore Aaron starts to note every small possibly important (and unimportant) medical fact about the foxes. And he’s not even totally conscious he’s doing it.

He consciously remembers Andrew and Nicky’s blood types. He knows Nicky’s allergic to penicillin and he knows Andrew doesn’t react well to doctors so it’s best for everyone if he can be administered some kind of sedative right away.

And then he thinks he should probably know this stuff for Kevin, and begrudgingly Neil, because they’re part of his strange little family that Andrew’s created. So he quickly and easily finds this information on them (because he’s a Minyard and he just knows how to find the things he needs to know). So he knows their blood types and he knows Kevin still feels residual pain in his left hand but doesn’t show it and try’s to ignore it. He knows Neil heals annoyingly quick from his all too common injuries but he also knows he aggravates those injuries easily by pushing himself too soon.

But it doesn’t stop there, there’s a small itch in the back of his head driving him to find out the important medical facts about the rest of the foxes. So he allows himself to remember their blood types and allergens and tells himself he needs to know incase of an emergency.

But he also notices that Matt has a high tolerance to pain medication whenever he’s being treated by Abby for an injury during practice or a game. And he notes the one type that works for him and keeps multiple bottles on him and in their room. (It’s also the only type that works for Kevin and works best for Neil so he stocks their room with it too)

And he notices that Allison is a slight germaphobe and applies hand sanitizer anytime she has to touch a public door handle or they go out to eat. So he opens as many doors for her as he can despite the confused look he gives her every time and he just glares right back at her. He keeps an extra mini bottle of hand sanitizer in his backpack for her as well and silently passes it to her when she’s forgotten hers.

He notices Dans chronic knee and lower back pain that Abby is constantly treating and how there’s always a rotating rainbow of colorful KT Tape on her. So he keeps an eye on Abby’s stock of tape and when a color is running low he casually mentions it to her to order more and then walks away.

He notices how Renee always picks at the scabs on her knuckles that result from her sparring with Andrew. He figures the wraps she has are getting old and silently leaves a new pair on the counter the next time he’s in the girls dorm, along with a box of bandaids and a tube of antiseptic ointment. He leaves a matching set of supplies in Andrew’s dorm as well just to be safe.

He doesn’t consciously realize that what he’s doing is protecting and taking care of the Foxes. But the others catch on and smile fondly at him because he’s letting himself care for them and become part of their family.

And the one time Dan mentions what he’s doing for them he looks at her like she’s crazy. He tells himself, and her, that that’s not what he’s doing, he’s just a future doctor and someone needs to take care of these injury prone idiot athletes and no one else besides him and Abby are going to do it right.

Aaron would definitely be so observant and acutely aware of the Foxes physical well beings despite him insisting he doesn’t care and hates them all. But he basically becomes Abby’s right hand man and teams second nurse because it’s good practice for his future and he knows them.

#doctor Aaron Minyard #Aaron showing his care in strange ways is canon to me #he doesn’t trust anyone else to properly take care of them #but their endless list of medical issues is also going to be the death of him #aaron minyard #aftg #aftg aaron #all for the game #andrew minyard #kevin day #neil josten #renee walker #alison reynolds #matt boyd #dan wilds #nicky hemmick

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emchant3d · 1 year

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part 2 of the steddie fight steve whump - now with as-promised eddie whump 💕 part 1 here

Eddie isn’t a good man.

Steve thinks he is, Eddie knows. He says it all the time. Eddie thinks that good men don’t need to be announced as good men, that their goodness is obvious enough without anyone pointing it out, but he doesn’t want to argue about it with Steve. He hates when Eddie doesn’t see himself like Steve sees him, so he just does his best to be the person Steve thinks he is.

He did a spectacularly shitty job of that today.

He took it too far. Cut too deep. Knew it the second the words came out of his mouth, didn’t even need to see the color drain from Steve’s face as the blow landed, but he was treated to the sight anyway. He watched the angry flush fade into a sickly pale pallor as those long pretty lashes fluttered and that plush mouth parted in surprise, in shock, before Steve’s jaw had snapped shut so hard his teeth clacked.

And then it was gone. As quickly as the hurt had been written all over Steve’s face, it disappeared in the blink of an eye, and Eddie hates when he does that, when he hides how he feels and refuses to share his hurt and sadness with Eddie, but can he blame him for concealing it? Can he demand to be shown it when he’s the one who put that expression on Steve’s face in the first place?

And the worst of it is - he’d felt a sick kind of satisfaction at the sight. And he hates himself for it now, with hindsight and self-awareness, feels disgusting for the way he’d reveled in the sense of victory he’d felt. He’d won. He’d hurt Steve and he’d won the argument by doing so, at least that round of it, had stopped their back and forth with one sentence, and he’d seen him fold in on himself and go ice-cold in a way Steve hasn’t been with him in a long, long time, maybe ever, not since they started this whole thing between them.

He’d taken the win while he had it, heard Steve say something about the guest room and rolled his eyes, Steve can be so dramatic when they fight. He’d turned tail and done the worst thing he could have fucking done, can’t even claim hindsight for this one because he’d known even as he was doing it that leaving then, when he’d been asked what he’d been asked and answered like he’d answered - he’d known it was cruel. Known it was salt in the wound, and he’d ground it in with a perverse satisfaction, slammed the door behind him and everything.

He took a couple walks around the block, chain-smoked half a pack of cigarettes, debated going to Gareth’s to rant and ramble and try to get somebody on his side even though he knows Gareth likes Steve more than he likes Eddie some days - his boy is too charismatic for his own good, won over all of Eddie’s friends with the slightest bit of effort.

He sat on the fucking curb and lost track of time quick, watched the darkening sky deepen until it was black and the streets were barren and his hands were frozen, until he’d thought himself into and out of every scenario possible, until all that was left to do was admit to himself how badly he fucked up.

Anger kept the guilt from setting in immediately, because he’d been so angry, so furious with Steve for - for–

He can’t even pick out what in particular pissed him off so much, and isn’t that rich? Because deep down, he wasn’t angry. Not really.

He was terrified.

Eddie’s been distant lately, he knows. He’s been taking more gigs and staying out later after them, he’s been working more shifts, he’s been hanging out with the band and saying he has ‘practice’ when really they’re just sitting around getting high and wasting time. Sometimes he doesn’t even give an excuse, just turns up late and acts like he can’t see the mix of worry-anger-hurt painted all over Steve’s face, he just wraps him up in his arms and covers his face with kisses and acts like they’re fine, like there’s not a tightness squeezing his heart so hard he’s afraid it’ll stop beating altogether.

He’s been pushing it too much. Disappearing too often. But he just doesn’t know how to explain it - the fear that settles bone-deep in him when he thinks about how happy he is for too long. If there’s one thing Eddie’s life has taught him, it’s that happiness and safety - all that shit is temporary. He’ll lose it eventually. It’ll get damaged somehow, he’ll piss someone off or do something wrong, he’ll break the delicate balance that’s afforded him a safety net and that net will disappear, and he’ll be left in a free-fall and forced to pick up his own shattered pieces when he lands, alone and hurt and starting all over yet again.

He’s so, so tired of starting over.

So he’s been trying to…delay the inevitable, maybe. If he’s not around, Steve can’t be tired of him, right? And that’s not fair to Steve either, but Eddie’s selfish at the best and worst of times and he’s been prioritizing getting himself through this, has switched to survival mode so thoroughly that he’s not been able to recognize the only threat he’s trying to protect himself from is him.

Self-sabotage is a habit that’s deeply ingrained in Eddie. It’s the only thing he knows sometimes, the defense mechanism that feels like coming home, but when you grew up in a home like he did, sometimes familiarity isn’t safe, not like it should be.

It blinds him to everything and everyone, makes it so he doesn’t recognize he’s even doing it until it’s too late. Until he’s pushing everyone away and hurting the people he loves, until the person he loves most in the world is standing in front of him and yelling in their living room asking if Eddie wants to be here with him.

And that’s another thing, isn’t it? Of course Eddie wants to be with Steve. Of course he wants the comfort that comes with loving someone and being loved, but he can’t deny that that’s terrifying in its own right - that the idea of being tethered to something freaks him the fuck out. And he knows, he knows that’s part of the whole avoidance thing too - his heart searching for freedom where it can find it, loving Steve but being terrified of Steve at the same time, of what he means, of that string that keeps them together always, no matter what.

Usually the thought of that is wonderful and welcome and fantastic. Sometimes it’s something he absolutely cannot think about. And that leads him right back here, not fucking thinking and leaving Steve alone and acting like he’s done nothing wrong when he knows damn well he’s the fucking problem here.

Steve was yelling because Eddie hadn’t considered him. Eddie hadn’t thought of Steve, or his life with Steve, and Steve was angry about it. And he had every right to be. But all Eddie could see, could feel, had been a noose around his neck, a tie to something - to someone that felt like it was taking control.

Eddie had panicked, and he did what he does best - he ran.

Scorched earth, feet to the ground, bolted away from the issue the best he knew how, let himself sit in that self-appointed righteousness of finding an escape except he’d run from the one thing, the one person, he’d promised never to run from.

This is the downside of loving someone you know inside and out. This is the result of baring his soul to Steve and having Steve bare his back - he’s seen the delicate, vulnerable bits of that man and knows exactly where to strike.

Regret eats at him. How could he say that to Steve? How could he do this to Steve? Eddie knows his temper is mercurial at the best of times, knows his moods can change with the weather, but there’s no excuse for allowing them and his fear to take over like they had. It’s something he has to work on, he’s known it for a while, but this is the final nail in the coffin.

He’d thought he was past the worst of this, of his anxiety eating him alive and taking things from him, thought interdimensional monsters and almost dying and falling in love in the aftermath of it all meant that the mundane normal life shit would be easy, but the universe does so love to prove Eddie Munson wrong.

There’s nothing in the world worth losing Steve over. And sure, Eddie can be a coward, has cowardice in his goddamn blood some days, but if there’s anything worth being brave over, it’s the man waiting for him at home right now.

This is fixable, he tells himself. He’ll apologize. He’ll grovel and make it up to Steve and he’ll be glued to his goddamn side for the rest of their fucking lives if that’s what it takes. Anything to show him that Eddie didn’t mean it.

He wanders his way home with his metaphorical tail between his legs, hoping that he’s right - because Steve would be well within his rights to be tired of his shit by now. Steve would be more than justified in calling it quits over this - because it isn’t just one fight. This one fight was a culmination of issues and he sealed the deal with a fucking calculated attack and he has no idea what he’s about to come home to, not really, he’s just hoping that home still feels like home when he walks in the door, and he only needs Steve for that.

He doesn’t know what time it is when he makes it in. Just knows that the apartment is dark and shadowy and the only light in the place is in the hall, so he doesn’t call out to Steve.

For a moment he’s terrified that maybe Steve isn’t here, maybe he left, but he knows that’s his modus operandi, not Steve’s, and besides, the guest room door is closed. He remembers what Steve had said, stone-faced and monotone, ‘I’m staying in the guest room tonight,’ and Eddie hates that Steve isn’t in their bed, but at least he’s here. Hopefully he’s asleep - and he feels like a piece of shit for hoping for it because he knows he just wants to avoid this conversation, even if Steve getting some rest would be a good thing. His baby doesn’t sleep too well. Neither of them do.

He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it up by the door, forgets to take his shoes off like always and desperately, desperately hopes that Steve will still be willing to bitch at him for it in the morning.

His heart is a stone that’s sunk down to his stomach. He doesn’t have words, had tried to craft something pretty to say on the walk home, but his theatrics won’t help him now and his sincerity is drowning in his guilt and he doesn’t know how to fix this. How does he apologize for this? Not just the fight today, but all of it? He’s got nothing but he knows he can’t let this sit like this, can’t stand it, can’t leave the two of them in this limbo and abandon Steve to whatever awful thoughts are swimming around in that pretty head.

He knows Steve. He knows his fears, his insecurities. He knows he hit them all like a fucking bullseye with a single sentence and the rest of his actions would have taken him down the rest of the way.

He left. He’s spent so long promising Steve that’s the one thing he would never do, that he’s a runner but never from Steve, and yet he’s slinking his way through their apartment after doing exactly that, hesitant and quiet as he can be but he’s terrible at being quiet, and he winces at the volume of the thunk that sounds when he pauses in front of the guest room and leans on the closed door.

He can’t hear Steve through it, but that doesn’t mean much - he could be lying awake, hoping Eddie just continues his path down the hall, hoping to be left alone and spared the groveling that Eddie knows he has to do. Could be that Steve doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to deal with him, just wants some peace after all the shouting they’d done earlier. Eddie wouldn’t begrudge him that.

But a bigger part of him, a worried part of him, knows that it’s unlikely.

No, the bigger part of him, the bit of him that’s tied to Steve Harrington’s heart, knows with almost certainty that Steve is lying on that unfamiliar bed wide awake. He knows he’s hurting, knows he’s upset, knows he wishes that Eddie would just come in and fix things.

He presses his forehead to the door like he can transfer his thoughts through osmosis - he thinks it’s osmosis, he isn’t sure, science was the least strong of his not-strong suits, okay - and have Steve just know everything he wants to tell him, and then he shuffles the rest of the way down the hall to buy himself some time.

He changes into pajamas as he goes over everything he wants to say, trying to work it into something coherent and level-headed, but at this point he’s debating just falling to his knees and begging Steve to not leave him, which, well - he’s had worse ideas.

He doesn’t want to lose Steve. But he knows he might. Has to accept that as a possibility. Has to face that and resist the urge to deny it, to own that he’s royally fucked up and might lose the most important person in the world to him, even if the very idea makes him want to rip his heart out of his goddamn chest.

Call him dramatic. It doesn’t make it less true.

He pads his way back down the hall, the familiar orange glow from the dimmed light less a comfort and more like he’s walking down to a fucking gate to hell, and comes to a stop outside the guest room. He takes a breath, braces himself, and then raises a hand, knocking gently.

“Baby? You in there Stevie?” he asks, and he doesn’t get an answer, but when he quietly opens the door he catches the motion of Steve ducking his head down. He’s awake, then. Pretending not to be, but that’s okay - Eddie can work around that.

He can’t make out anything but the rough shape of Steve in the bed - his own body in the doorway is blocking most of the light trying to illuminate the dark room. He knows the shape of that lump on a mattress, and he walks closer, almost reaching out - but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if he touched Steve and he flinched, or if he pulled away from his reach. So he pulls his hand back, and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, and takes a deep breath, letting the silence sit between them.

And Eddie’s a goddamn coward, can’t even look at his baby, keeps his back to him in the dimness of the room so he doesn’t have to see the anger and the hurt as he tries to apologize for a hurt that he never should have caused. And he can’t see him, but he can hear him - he can hear the little hitches in his breath, the stutters of it, the soft trembles that Steve is trying to keep steady, and each one is like a stab to the fucking heart, and he really cannot fucking take this anymore, so–

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve goes silent behind him. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” He wishes Steve would yell. He wishes his baby would get all his anger and his frustration out and they could move on, he wishes Steve would get so fucking mad and lash out because Eddie deserves it– and he tries to stop that train of thought before it gets too off track because that’s mean, Steve isn’t like that to him and it’s not fair to expect it from him. Even if it would make things easier if he could just hope for an easy way out.

He takes a breath, and starts where he thinks is best, the only starting point he can really think of.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Steve says, sharp voice a little rough, but it’s strong and it’s steady and something in Eddie relaxes a bit. Steve’s still mad. Eddie can work with mad.

“So you are awake,” he tries to joke, and it lands about as well as he thought it would.

“Yeah,” is what he gets back, and he lifts his head, tries to pick out the vague pattern of the popcorn ceiling above them in the dark. He can feel eyes on him, knows Steve’s staring him down.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and Steve makes a soft, gutted sound from behind him. “What I said - what I did–” he shakes his head. “It wasn’t right. I should have never–”

“If you’re going to break up with me will you just get it over with?” Steve interrupts, snappy and frosty but his voice cracks something fierce, and hold on, what.

“Hold on, what?” he says aloud, like a dumbass, but sue him, he doesn’t know how else to express the utter confusion taking him over right now.

Steve scoffs at him, and there’s a shuffle behind him but Eddie’s moving too, finally turning and - oh.

Oh, no. Steve pushes himself to sit up and Eddie takes him in, his reddened puffy eyes and the tense set of his jaw, clenched so it doesn’t shake.

“I don’t need you to apologize for breaking up with me,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest, defensive, shoulders up to his ears, weight shifted back like he’s two seconds from lurching away from Eddie to wedge himself in the corner like that’ll keep him safe. And it’s so odd - it’s so wrong - to see Steve, the fighter, the one who punches first, so defensive, but he supposes it makes sense when the enemy is Eddie, and god, doesn’t that just feel like a kick in the fucking teeth. “If you don’t wanna fucking be with me anymore I get it, okay, I don’t need the spiel, I don’t need the whole it’s not you it’s me thing, just - just do it and get it over with and I can - I can move out, I’ll get out of the way and I’ll leave you alone and–”

“Shut up,” Eddie says sharply, and then cringes at himself because come on Munson, a little gentleness would be good right now, but he’s off-kilter in a way he didn’t expect. Steve flinches a little, but he stands his ground, eyes wide as he keeps them on Eddie. “Shut up, I am not - you thought I was breaking up with you?”

Steve flails his arms a little, tossing them up. “Well - you - I mean–” he stutters, “why the fuck else are you here!”

“To apologize!” Steve freezes and stares at him like he didn’t know that option was even on the table. “Baby,” Eddie says, achingly soft, and he doesn’t stop himself from reaching this time, catching hold of Steve’s arm and pulling him close as he closes the distance between them both.

They’re on their knees on the mattress, crowded into each other’s space, and Steve won’t look him in the eye. “Steve,” he tries, but he just gets a minute shake of his head for his efforts. Steve isn’t touching him, fingers curling into tight fists in the space between them like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out, but he isn’t pulling away from Eddie’s touch either so he keeps going. He skates his fingertips in a soft touch down Steve’s bicep, over his elbow, brushing along his forearm and feeling goosebumps pop up.

He takes hold of Steve’s hand, rubs the back of it with his thumb, watches Steve’s gaze dart to where they’re touching as Eddie maps out the familiar pattern of Steve’s moles. Freckled even here, on these warm hands Eddie loves so much, these hands that are shaking faintly in Eddie’s gentle grip.

“You don’t gotta look at me,” he says softly, and he squeezes Steve’s hand tighter, “but please - please, angel, just listen to me, okay?” Steve’s breath hitches again, but he nods, and Eddie will take what he can get as he clasps Steve’s trembling hand between both of his own.

“Steve, I’m sorry,” he says, watching what he can see of Steve’s face, orange light slicing over his features from the doorway. Those eyes he loves are fixed on their hands and he can’t tell if he’s watching in fear or hope or both. “What I said…I didn’t mean it, okay?” And it sounds hollow to his own ears, so he tries again. “I just - I wanted to hurt you, and…”

Steve gives a bitchy little eye roll and Eddie’s heart skips a beat, staring at his pretty, tear-stained face and clinging to that small glimpse of normalcy. “Well mission accomplished, I guess,” Steve says, bitter and sad, and Eddie groans softly.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. Baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t…I tried the whole time I was out to think of the right words to say but I just - I dunno how to explain it,” he says, frustrated with himself, and he feels the smallest little squeeze to his hand.

“Try,” Steve says, quiet, “...please,” and his voice cracks again and it feels like a fucking knife in Eddie’s stomach.

“I was scared,” he blurts out, and finally, finally Steve looks at him.

“...What?” His brows furrow, his mouth turns down, “scared of what?” “Of you,” he says, and that’s not quite right, and Steve’s face falls even more, looking nauseous.

“I’m sorry,” Steve croaks, and he tries to pull his hand away but Eddie just grips it tighter, “I’m sorry, Eddie, I shouldn’t have yelled like that or gotten mad and - and I would never hurt you, Eds–”

“Nonono, baby,” Eddie scrambles to interrupt, shaking his head so hard his hair flies around a little, “no, that’s not - I wasn’t scared of you like that.” He raises a hand, grabbing hold of Steve’s face, keeping their eyes on one another while he has the chance, “I meant - I was–” he makes a little frustrated sound, “...I was scared that I’d lose you,” he says, and God, fuck, thank God Steve is who he is and he knows Eddie how he knows him, because understanding starts to bloom in those bloodshot eyes.

“...And so you lashed out,” he whispers, and Eddie nods again.

“And so I lashed out.” Guilt paints his words. “And I’ve been avoiding you. Avoiding home. Staying away because - because if I’m not around then you can’t get annoyed, or tired of me, right? And that’s so fucking stupid, okay, I know it is, I’m a fucking idiot, really, biggest moron in the world, and a goddamn coward–”

“Hey,” Steve says sharply, and Eddie’s words die with a little whine in his throat. “You are not a coward. You’re the bravest person I know.”

“Dustin would like a word,” he shoots back, and Steve huffs, narrowing his eyes at him. Eddie gives him a small, self-deprecating smile.

“I just mean,” he soldiers on, “I’ve been doing wrong by you.” Steve looks away again. “And I’m sorry. I know I’ve been hurting you and I want to do better, Stevie, I do.” He squeezes Steve’s hand.

He watches as Steve rolls his lips in, biting them hard, his brows tight and his shoulders going tense again. Eddie wants to fill the space with his own chatter, pour out even more apologies, but he lets the silence sit - he lets Steve have the space to collect his thoughts, to think of what he wants to say.

Finally, he speaks. “It felt like you didn’t love me anymore,” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help the heartbroken little sound he makes.

“No,” he says fiercely, and he crowds into Steve’s personal space, takes his face in his hands and cradles his cheeks in his palms. “Absolutely fucking not, baby,” he insists, and Steve reaches up, covering Eddie’s hands with his like he’s trying to pull all the warmth from Eddie and into himself.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Steve asks, “you were just - you were gone all the time, and you never wanted to talk about it, and you were always busy with stuff that didn’t involve me and it was like you didn’t want to be around me anymore. And when we fought tonight I thought - I.” He cuts himself off, squeezes his eyes closed tight. “...I really thought that you might not come back,” he confesses, and Eddie pulls him even closer.

“You listen to me,” he says, soft but fierce, “and I know my word probably means shit to you right now, because I’ve been the biggest dumbass in the world and broken it, but I need you to hear me when I say this.” Steve opens his eyes, and Eddie stares into them. “I will always come home to you. Even if I’m being a fucking idiot. Even if I’m pulling a runner, if I lose my mind and bolt out of here again, I will come home.” Steve’s eyes go all watery, and Eddie gently catches the tears with his thumbs, brushing them from Steve’s cheeks.

“Swear,” Steve says, and there’s a desperation in his tone that Eddie wishes he could smooth away, but he knows that will take time. That will take dedication and patience and perseverance and goddammit, Eddie will use every ounce of all that he possesses if that’s what it takes. But for now he holds Steve’s gaze and he nods slowly, their faces just inches apart.

“I swear,” he tells him. “I swear to you, Steve Harrington, I will come home. And I will always, always fucking love you.”

Steve gives a little sob. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Eddie shushes him.

“No, angel,” he tells him, shaking his head. “You got nothing you need to apologize for, okay?” Steve looks like he’s going to protest, but Eddie just shifts, pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead and lingering there as his baby works to catch his breath.

“Can we go to bed?” Steve asks, and he sounds exhausted down to his bones. Eddie nods.

“Of course, baby,” he says, and he pulls Steve from the guest bed - fucking terrible thing that it is, taking Steve from their room, from their space, the safe little corner of the universe that they’ve carved out together between their sheets. He guides Steve down the hall, tired and stumbling a little, his pretty hair in disarray - his baby didn’t even change first, seems like he just curled right up after Eddie left, he’s still in his jeans and everything.

Eddie watches as Steve changes, stripping his clothes off with slow, lethargic movements, and for once they land in a heap on the floor - on top of his sneakers, and that makes Eddie’s heart do a funny little flip as he catches Steve’s hand to keep him from tripping over the damn things. A fond smile is teasing at Steve’s lips, and Eddie returns it.

They curl up together, close as they can get, unsure where one starts and another begins. Relief washes through Eddie as he gets Steve settled into the right bed this time. He buries his hand in Steve’s hair and Steve noses at Eddie’s throat, turns his head side to side in a slow rhythm that drags his lips over the same little sensitive spot on the underside of Eddie’s jaw. It’s not a kiss, not quite - just a touch. A reminder that Eddie’s still here. He’ll allow Steve to take as many reminders as he needs for as long as he wants.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Steve whispers, and Eddie wants to tell him once again that he doesn’t have to apologize, but he knows this is important to Steve. So he just nods a little, careful not to dislodge him from the warm space he’s settled into at the curve of Eddie’s neck.

“I forgive you,” he tells him, and a bit of tension leaves Steve’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I left,” he whispers, and he feels Steve’s lips part– “don’t say you forgive me yet,” he says before Steve can speak. “I got a lot more groveling to do, babylove, don’t you dare let me off the hook that easily. I was a fucking jackass. And I’m gonna make it right, and that’s gonna take time, and I know that, and that’s okay, because I’m in this for the long haul, alright?”

Steve is silent for a few moments, weighing Eddie’s words. Eddie can feel the brush of eyelashes against his skin as his baby blinks slowly a few times. Then, gradually, the last of the tightness in Steve’s frame melts away.

“Actually I was gonna say I’m going to get one of those toddler leashes,” he says. “That way if you try to bolt I can just yank you back.” Eddie snorts out an ugly laugh, and Steve’s chuckle echoes his own, and he rolls them both until he’s got Steve under him. He just stares at him in the darkness for a few moments, watching his smile fade into something small and private.

“I love you so much,” Eddie says, and Steve’s hands come up, slipping beneath Eddie’s shirt to rest on the bare skin of his back, fingertips tracing up and down the dip of his spine. “There’s nowhere in the world I wanna be than right here with you.” Steve hums softly and closes his eyes, and Eddie knows it’s going to take more than just a few pretty words to prove this to Steve. That’s okay. Eddie’s stubborn. He can stick with it as long as it takes.

“I love you too,” Steve says back, and Eddie leans down, nudging his nose gently into his baby’s. Steve’s scrunches up, and Eddie presses a quick kiss to it just to hear him laugh, then shifts, brushing his lips against Steve’s.

Steve sighs soft and warm into it, lips parting, and Eddie kisses him slow, devotion pouring out of him and into Steve. And he takes it all - gasps and moans quietly against Eddie’s mouth, lax beneath him, letting Eddie nip and bite and suck and soothe at his lips, his tongue, hand slipping to Steve’s side - not to start anything. Just to touch. Just to feel. To prove to himself that he’s still able to touch this beautiful man, that he’s still allowed this wonderful, dizzying love that he’s stumbled into.

They fade like that, both tired, Eddie’s weight slowly sinking down until he’s resting atop Steve. Steve’s arms come around him fully until he’s hugging him around the waist, and their mouths slip from each other’s to land in the spaces of their shoulders and throats instead, nosing into the warmth and familiarity of the person they love.

And things aren’t fixed - they aren’t perfect. But they’re working on it, and that’s enough.

#steddie #steddie fic #stevexeddie #steve/eddie #guys i'm sorry for not doing a tag list i was just too overwhelmed #but thank you SO MUCH to everyone who had a kind word to say abt part 1 and was so interested in a part 2 i hope you find this!!#my fic

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p1utofairy · 7 months

Text

pick a card.

★ what makes you different from your person’s ex?

NOTE: hiii <3 i know it’s been a while since i’ve done pacs, but i just needed some time for myself and to balance my energy. i’ve missed you all so much and i understand that some of you really want personal readings for me (and soon i want to provide that for you) but in the meantime doing these pick-a-card readings is serving as practice for me – they help me get more comfortable with my intuition and enhance my tarot reading abilities/knowledge. i want to give y'all the most accurate and insightful guidance/advice 1 on 1 when i feel more prepared and have the time to do it. i hope you all can understand 🤗 your patience and support seriously means a lot to me. for now, i’ll catch up on some of the pac requests that have been sent to me. thanks for requesting this anon. 💌 enjoy!

PILE 1.

what makes you different from your partner’s ex is the fact that you are extremely dedicated to your craft and your own personal goals. right now you might be really yearning for a relationship or just craving some type of romantic spark in your life, but nonetheless you’ve been pushing through and staying focused on building yourself up and putting yourself on the right path. you have set standards, expectations and boundaries that you will not fold on - and your person will LOVE this about you. you’re no pushover. if something isn’t sitting right with you or someone isn’t willing to do/give you what you deserve, you know how to respectfully move on and find someone else that will; no matter how long it takes. you’d rather be single than to have someone by your side that you know isn’t truly fulfilling you and your needs. genie in a bottle by christina aguilera is coming to mind – “if you wanna be with me, baby there’s a price to pay! i’m a genie in a bottle, you gotta rub me the right way.” yeah trust me when i say that your person will go extra lengths to impress you and show you how serious they are about this relationship. i think that their previous relationship lacked the spark that you two share.

it also lacked the security, discipline and stability that you bring to the table; they’re willing to put the effort into this relationship. if i’m being quite honest their previous relationship seems like a non-factor, because in their eyes it could never hold a candlelight to what you two share. that one part in after hours by the weeknd just came to me, “cause this house is not a home…without my baby, where are you now when i need you most?” LOL they’re so devoted to you pile 1. the energy is kind of reminding me of allie and noah from ‘the notebook,’ one of the most iconic romance films of all time. don’t get me wrong, allie and noah’s love was far from perfect; it was messy, painful, and at times very selfish. however, it was THEIR love. it was full of passion and intensity and that’s the type of energy i pick up between you two. they would build a house for you with their own bare hands, like noah if you truly wanted them to. you bring out a side of them that their previous partner could never unlock.

you make them work for it and whew does it get them going lol they love the chase. if you teasingly tell them “no.” just to get a reaction out of them, they’ll be like “what can i do to change your mind?” and do the most seductive shit possible to get you all riled up and ready to pounce on them. you balance each other out very well and they’re different from the other types of people that have tried to pursue you before - it's gonna be refreshing. you might be a little hesitant to jump into this relationship because of your own doubts and anxiety around relationships (i’m hearing trust issues? daddy issues?) and this might cause you to keep this person at arms length even though you know you want to get closer to them. they’ll be respectful of you and your space, but just know that they won’t take advantage of your situation; if anything they want to help you work through it and be a supportive partner.

PILE 2.

the energy feels like something out of a whimsical fairytale, pile 2. you might’ve been split between choosing this pile and pile 1 (check that pile as well if you felt drawn to it) but wow your person feels like you came into their life at the perfect time. i’m not sure if either of you expected to come across each other in such a way that left you both feeling lovestruck! what makes you different from their previous partner is how much of a REAL lover you are. there’s a huge amount of optimism and a lust for life that you bring to this connection, which doesn’t quite compare to what they were used to. your love is purposeful and genuine – i’m picking up that some of you might have virgo/6H placements. just like magic by ariana grande just started playing, “just like magic, i’m attractive. i get everything i want cause i attract it.” you definitely manifested this relationship, pile 2. UGH YOUR MIND. it may have taken longer than you expected to come to fruition, but wow was it worth the wait.

they have this playfulness to them that you’ll really adore, it’s like they’re always trying to make you laugh and smile. their last relationship seemed like a bit of a burden on them. it caused them to turn inward and focus on themselves, however, their inner-child really thrives whenever they’re in your presence lol it’s so cute. it’s the little things like tickling your sides, kissing your neck/cheek and telling you silly jokes just to make you feel better and help ease any doubts and anxiety you’re feeling. you ground them in a lot of ways. you might be more mature than them, or they could be younger than you, but regardless, your energy feels more grounded and responsible. they might have felt powerless and restricted in their last relationship, feeling like they couldn’t really express themselves or be vulnerable for fear of judgment.

their ex might’ve involved their friends in a lot of their relationship drama which caused too much outside opinions to interfere with their relationship. that's one of the things that they appreciate about you: you don’t need outside opinions or validation to know what you want or how to manage this relationship. if there’s ever an issue, you will take the initiative to have a conversation with them and work it out; communication will be key in this relationship. their previous relationship lacked a safe space for them to express their emotions, but you are willing to communicate and ensure both of your feelings are taken into account within this connection. also, this person might have some sort of fame/social-standing/platform. it sort of feels like people keep tabs on who they’re currently dating/talking to. i will say that your person definitely values privacy and will try to keep as many people out of the mix as possible. this may not resonate for all, but don’t tell your friends everything about this relationship because some of them might be secretly thirsting over your person. they’ll be smiling in your face but behind the scenes wondering what it would be like to be with them, oof. some things are best kept private. remember that, okay!

PILE 3.

i feel a bit of a push and pull in this connection, pile 3. there’s friction here but it’s fiery and hot. your stubbornness is what makes you different from their previous partner lol they’re used to people falling for their charm and submitting to them – but not you. there seems to be a little bit of a romeo and juliet vibe here, like you two come from different backgrounds and technically y’all shouldn’t work but y’all just do. something clicks in you both whenever you’re around each other, and you spark a deep curiosity within each other. their last relationship was a “pain in the ass” i’m hearing lol wow. no matter what they did it was never good enough for their ex, they always found something to nitpick. i’m picking up that they argued a lot about finances in their previous relationship, your person may not have been in the financial position that they had hoped to be in but nonetheless they were working very hard towards their goals. this relationship with you is like a total reset.

ok so why did climax by usher just come on, “we’re together, now we’re undone. won’t commit, so we choose to run away. do we separate?” hm. for some of you, this might actually be an ex, but if that doesn’t resonate, i think there’s some sort of hesitation to commit here. emotionally and spiritually, you two just get each other, but when it comes to physically getting together and being an actual couple, you or this person finds a reason to cop out. there’s some sort of blockage from the past that’s keeping you from just saying, 'fuck it! let’s do it.' you've got to work through this, pile 3 (at your own pace, of course), because this person truly loves you. at times, you might feel a bit confused and unsure about their true intentions, but deep down, you know that this could work and they’re not as bad as you thought they were. some of this feels like it all could be cleared up with some good ol’ ✨communication✨ because you both have a lot in common, but you avoid talking to them about certain things.

someone in this pile could’ve recently just watched or is thinking of watching ‘anyone but you’ with sydney sweeney and glen powell lol cause the energy kinda feels reminiscent to their dynamic in that movie. you two could connect through friends and/or at a party. i can see either you or them overthinking this connection and creating unnecessary drama when all you both needed was a heart-to-heart conversation. drunk texting by chris brown ft. jhené aiko just came to mind, “got me feelin some type of way - told you i hate you, i don’t mean it. and the only thing that i got, is the pain that you been feeding.” ugh this person really wants to make you theirs pile 3 but the ball is in your court; they genuinely are trying to win you over.

PILE 4.

your person’s previous relationship did not end on the greatest of terms, oof. they’re still in the process of working through it, but they’ll never forget whatever it is that their ex did to make them call it quits. their ex might’ve cheated on them? idk they feel very betrayed and this energy of “ugh i can’t believe they did that” is heavy on them. their relationship with their ex was veryyy toxic and at the time of the breakup they might not have seen it this way, but it was definitely a blessing in disguise. love by keyshia cole just came to mind…damn. “i used to think that i wasn’t fine enough, and i used to think that i wasn’t wild enough.” their ex really had them second-guessing themselves. out of all the other piles, this one doesn’t feel quite healed from their past relationship. it’s not that they’re so much hung up on the person, it’s the situation that left a bad taste in their mouth. i keep hearing “how could you?” ugh poor baby. anyways, what makes you different from their previous partner is how genuine and attentive you are.

you may have just gotten out of a toxic situation yourself, and i see this relationship coming in at a time where you feel free from any negativity, burdens or worries someone (either romantically or platonically) was trying to place on you. this relationship is a fresh start for you and your partner. your person is very emotionally mature and super chill - it’s very hard to get them angry or riled up to the point that they’re screaming & yelling. that’s just not them, i’m hearing. some people might complain that they’re too nonchalant or dismissive, but that’s far from the case. your person is just aware that not everything deserves a reaction. you two will probably start off as friends first and then it’ll turn into a romantic relationship.

it’s interesting because your partner literally submerges themselves deep into their emotions, and you’re more of a ‘mind over matter’ type of person. you deal with things more logically and i think that’s one of the many things that they’ll admire about you; how you let things roll off your back and keep it moving. you give yourself time to process, understand and deal with your feelings, but then once you do, you’re right back to the grind. the dynamic between you and this person is reminding me of the movie ‘friends with benefits’ with mila kunis and justin timberlake. you both will click really fast! also, i’m picking up that you two might share a mutual friend and that might be how you two meet.

you give them hope and reassurance that love, GENUINE love, still exists. they might be a bit hard on themselves in the beginning of the relationship, but you will reassure them that they are more than enough and deserving of the love that you two share. loveeeeeeee song by rihanna ft. future just started playing, “and i hope i’m not sounding too desperate, i need love and affection.” whew! they’re gonna love them some you, pile 4. in their heart and in their eyes, nothing or no one will ever compare to you and the way that you love.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pac #pac reading #tarot reading #p1utofairy

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sellasstories · 2 months

Text

CLOSE (III)

word count: 6.0k

pairing: paige bueckers x azzi fudd

⚠️warnings⚠️

implied smut, angst, mentions of a panic attack, swearing

prompts:

what happens when two best friends with strong, undefined feelings quarantine together (part 3: pazzi)

in other words, the pazzi covid fic

“We haven’t done anything fun in a while,” Azzi remarks one night while she and Paige are getting ready for bed in her room.

“Huh, you’re right. What were you thinking?” Paige asks disinterestedly as she climbs under the covers.

“Oh, you know,” Azzi makes eye contact with the blonde as she steps out of her shorts. “I have a few ideas.”

Paige almost chokes on her saliva. “Like what?” she asks, pretending like she’s not blushing furiously.

“Like going to the park,” Azzi rolls her eyes and Paige notices for the first time that she’s put on jean shorts instead of pyjamas.

“But why? We go like every day,” the older girl retorts.

“Because we should go right now. Alone, without my annoying ass brothers. Plus, I’ve never been at night, maybe it’s better.” Azzi’s logic might be slightly questionable, but Paige is already standing up.

“Okay, I’m down. Let me go get changed.”

Azzi watches her best friend leave, marvelling at how easy it was to convince her. Obviously, Paige was going to agree because she’s always game for an adventure, but Azzi was fully expecting the blonde’s usual stubbornness that came up whenever the younger girl suggested anything.

Come to think of it, Paige has been quicker to agree recently. Azzi wouldn’t necessarily bet money on it, but she’s pretty sure it started around the time that she started flirting with Paige. Really, she doesn’t mind (if anything, it’s made her life easier), but she’s starting to worry that it’s actually affecting Paige in a profound way. Azzi would have to be blind and probably stupid to not pick up on the intensity of her best friend’s reactions, but that doesn’t mean she’s able to tell if they’re due to Paige being flustered or uncomfortable. The problem is that now that she’s started, she can’t seem to stop.

Technically, nothing’s happened, but Paige is definitely looking at Azzi differently, and the ambiguity of the older girl’s responses prevents Azzi from having full confidence in her own actions. She should be better than this — she knows she’s better than this — but there’s something undeniably addicting about allowing her true feelings to be put out in the open, even only slightly.

It’s with all this in mind that Azzi finishes getting dressed, electing to curl her eyelashes and put on lip gloss for the first time in months. Already feeling antsy, she sits on her bed, tapping her fingers on her thighs as she waits for Paige. Azzi soon opens Snapchat out of boredom and is pleasantly surprised at what she sees in the camera. Her cropped tank top showcases both her abs and cleavage (both very deliberate decisions on her part), and — she’s not sure if it’s the makeup or the adrenaline — she looks confident, maybe even… seductive?

Smirking to herself, Azzi reclines onto an elbow and takes a photo from high enough to showcase all of her accessories. She barely looks at it before captioning it, ‘I’m ready ;) waiting for you’ and sending it to Paige.

Paige, face already heating up as she opens it, is so focused on saving it that she forgets to respond. Frantically getting ready, she almost slams her bedroom door shut in her haste to see her best friend up close.

Azzi hasn’t moved for her bed, nor has the smirk left her face. “Photo so good it left you speechless?” She notices a smudge of mascara on Paige’s eyelid and her smile gets wider. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one putting effort into her appearance tonight.

Paige’s heartbeat is going crazy, and it’s definitely not from her sprinting to her best friend’s room. “More like I didn’t want you pestering me to get ready faster,” she makes herself roll her eyes.

Azzi stands up and stretches, making her shirt ride up even higher. “That’s why you saved it, right?”

Paige looks at her shoes. “Accident?” She doesn’t even sound convincing to herself. “Anyways, shouldn’t you grab a hoodie or something before we head out?”

“It’s summer, I’ll be fine,” Azzi reassures the blonde. “Besides,” she grabs the front of Paige’s hoodie, “I can always wear yours if it comes to that.”

“Let’s just go,” Paige groans. She doesn’t bother denying Azzi’s claim because they both know it’s true.

•••••

“Fuck, I think we forgot the ball.”

“I thought you were bringing it!”

“It’s fine, we can do other stuff,” Azzi shrugs. “Playing when it’s this dark is probably dangerous anyway.”

“Always so practical, Az,” Paige says sarcastically. She easily avoids the younger girl’s attempt to smack the back of her head.

“Whatever, race you to the swings!” Azzi’s already running.

Paige really should win — she’s in sneakers compared to Azzi’s slides — but when the dark-haired girl reaches the play structure first, the smile on her face makes Paige feel like a winner, too.

The girls swing in silence for a few minutes before Paige has to speak. “You know what swings are for right?”

Azzi looks at her quizzically. “No? Swinging, I guess?”

“When I was a kid, everyone would go on the swings to tell secrets. We literally called them ‘Secret Swings’!” A look of betrayal crosses Paige’s face as her best friend’s confusion intensifies. “Wait, did you actually not do that?”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Azzi says. “Must be a Minnesota thing… or you’re full of shit.”

“How could you say that,” Paige pouts. “It was like, my whole childhood.”

“I’m just saying, you’re kinda obsessed with learning my secrets lately,” Azzi teases her.

“Am not,” Paige retorts. “I just wanna learn more about you because you’re my best friend,” she says in a high-pitched voice.

“You’re so stupid,” Azzi can’t hide her smile at Paige’s antics. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t actually have any deep dark secrets. The closest thing was-” she pauses, not sure if she’s comfortable saying it yet, “-what I told you when we were drunk. And that’s out of the bag now, so you officially know everything about me.”

Paige isn’t satisfied with her best friend’s answer. “Fine. If you’re gonna be boring, I’ll tell you a secret,” she looks at Azzi, waiting for her to make eye contact before continuing solemnly, “I really like you.” Seeing Azzi’s raised eyebrow, her eyes widen as she’s quick to add, “as a friend, I mean!”

Azzi clasps a hand to her heart, choosing not to comment on Paige’s darkening cheeks. “While I’m touched, I may have already known that,” she says sarcastically. Even though they’re alone at the park, she lowers her voice to a whisper. “You coming to live with me kinda gave it away.”

“I don’t like this game anymore,” Paige jumps off the swing and dramatically falls to the ground.

Giggling, Azzi follows her lead but stays upright, offering the blonde a hand. Paige allows herself to be pulled to her feet, confused when Azzi doesn’t drop her hands.

“Can I tell you a secret, P?” She leans to whisper in Paige’s ear. “I really like you, too.”

It speaks to how much has changed that Azzi feels comfortable not adding the ‘as a friend’ distinction like Paige did, content to drop her hands and run off in search of their next activity. Paige picks up on her wording, of course, and she can do nothing but stand there speechless as Azzi’s silhouette disappears into the darkness.

Azzi’s prior worries about the dangers of playing in the low light don’t seem to extend to tag as she’s happy to start an unexpected game in the empty field by the playground.

They chase each other back and forth, laughing every time the other slips on grass still wet from a storm the previous day. After one such time, Azzi thinks she’s gotten away as she runs up a hill, only to discover a fence that would be too hard to climb with her current footwear. Seeing Paige approaching, she runs along the fence until it changes direction.

“You’re literally cornered, there’s nothing you can do,” Paige says gleefully as she gets closer.

Azzi almost makes it. She slips through Paige’s outstretched arms, but the blonde is quick and an expert at reading her. The next thing she knows, Paige has tackled her and they’re tumbling into the grass and rolling down the hill.

They come to a stop, both seeming to realize at the same time that Paige is on top of Azzi in a way that has their bodies pressed together and their faces much too close for friends in their situation. Paige makes no move to get up, and Azzi doesn’t push her off as they stare at each other, panting slightly.

Paige reaches out to pluck a strand of grass from Azzi’s hair and is disarmed by how calm the younger girl seems to be. She knows that her own heart is nearly beating out of her chest, but her best friend appears content to stay where she is, seemingly unbothered by their position.

Facing skyward in the grass, Paige thinks that Azzi belongs in the moonlight. For a fleeting moment, she imagines closing the distance between them to press her lips against her best friend’s. Instead, she settles for another kiss on the younger girl’s forehead.

When Paige pulls away, Azzi’s looking at her like she knows the answer to a question Paige hasn’t even thought to ask yet, and it sends her mind scrambling. Can she see how this is affecting me… does she know how I feel? Oh fuck, what if she’s uncomfortable?

That last thought has Paige scrambling to get up, despite no discernible change in Azzi’s body language. The dark-haired girl extends a hand up so Paige can pull her to her feet.

“If you’d stayed there any longer, I’d have no choice but to think you liked having me under you,” she says with a laugh, walking off to find a shoe that went missing in their scuffle.

For the second time that night, Paige is left speechless as Azzi walks off into the darkness.

They decide to go home soon after and Azzi, wanting to get the grass off, gets in the shower. She’s surprised to find her bed empty when she gets out, expecting Paige to be there as usual. Confused, the dark-haired girl goes down the hall to find Paige’s door locked with no light or sound coming from the room.

“Paige…?” she calls out softly. Getting no answer, she sighs and begins to make her way back to her own room. This is so weird. Come to think of it, Paige had maybe been a little closed off on the walk home, but Azzi figured it was just because her best friend was tired.

Paige listens to Azzi’s footsteps fade away from the door. Her breath shakes as she tries to hold back tears. She’d pushed it way too far with Azzi tonight, there was no way around that.

The blonde mentally berates herself for her actions. Azzi’s tone was always the same, it was so clear that she was joking, so why had Paige almost kissed her? She doesn’t know how she let things get to this point, but she does know that it’s time to set some rules with herself.

Even as she resolves to put up firm boundaries, Paige still finds herself subconsciously missing Azzi’s comforting presence next to her. As much as she hates it, Paige realizes that she has to find ways to distance herself from the dark-haired girl in spite of their inevitable proximity.

They don’t talk about it, but neither Paige nor Azzi sleeps well that night.

•••••

Azzi thinks that something must be wrong with Paige. The blonde has always been a physically affectionate person — really, they both have, at least with each other — so it’s almost impossible for Azzi to miss the space between them as they’re sitting on the couch watching some random movie. She almost thinks she imagined it because Paige still lets Azzi cuddle up against her, though there is a certain stiffness to the arm that wraps around her.

And it keeps getting worse. Azzi doesn’t know how she’d barely noticed them before, but the absence of gentle hands on her hips, arms thrown over her shoulders, and brushes of fingertips the next day is glaringly obvious to her. She can’t pretend that it doesn’t sting a little.

She considers asking Paige if she’s mad at her or something, but decides against it. Apart from whatever this is, her best friend is acting mostly normal, still looking at Azzi with the usual radiant smile and bright eyes (“that look like she’d give you the world,” Azzi’s mom had once said). So Azzi lets it go. This is fine.

And it should be, except… Azzi just wishes she knew what was going on. Needs to know, almost. She tries to think back to the night in the park, when her best friend started acting weird. Nothing stands out to her as abnormal. As much as she wants to ask Paige what the problem is, the blonde’s unwillingness to address it gives her pause.

While Azzi can’t remember anything like this ever happening to them, she’s not quite ready to start panicking. No one else has noticed the slight change in their interactions, and she reasons sadly that they might just be getting older or something. They’ll be fine, they have to be.

•••••

After a week, Azzi’s almost made peace with this new version of Paige. Thankfully, they still observe their routines and end up cuddled in Azzi’s bed watching some new show that has caught their eye.

If Azzi always waits for Paige to lay down so she can make sure they’re as entwined as possible, nobody needs to know. And if she thinks she feels Paige’s heartbeat speed up when she lays her head on the older girl’s chest, that’s a secret that she’s happy to keep.

This particular night, Azzi’s eyes are stubbornly refusing to stay open, and she decides that it’s Paige’s fault. Azzi’s head is in its usual spot on her best friend’s chest as she lays on her side. Paige’s large hands are rubbing soothing circles on her back, occasionally dipping low enough to graze the exposed skin where her hoodie has ridden up. She doesn’t know what caused it (she hadn’t even asked), but she isn’t complaining because Paige’s hands feel really good and this is the first time in a while that the blonde has touched her first.

Realistically, there was no reason that she couldn’t drift off. It had happened many times before, and it’s not like Paige would complain. But Azzi likes this time, their time, when she allows her imagination to run wild just for a little while as the pounding heartbeat beneath her echoes in her ear. So she fights to stay awake, even as her breathing evens out and her body relaxes even more.

Paige looks down at the peaceful expression on the younger girl’s face, and it almost physically hurts how beautiful she is. She can’t help but stare, a million thoughts running through her mind. Feeling brave, she plants a gentle kiss on the top of Azzi’s head, hoping that somehow her best friend will understand everything that she put into it.

Azzi doesn’t say anything, but her lips tilt upward in a soft smile. She snuggles closer and drapes an arm and a leg over the blonde.

Paige feels the gradual change in the rise and fall of Azzi’s chest, and it doesn’t even occur to her how crazy it was that she knows exactly what it means: Azzi is very close to falling asleep.

Quietly, she fumbles around for the TV remote and pauses the show, not wanting to risk waking Azzi up. The younger girl shifts slightly again and Paige holds her breath for what feels like forever.

Finally daring to exhale, she slowly returns her hands to Azzi’s back and sinks further into the pillows. The soft glow of the TV continues to illuminate the room, and Paige continues to look at Azzi.

Later, she’d come up with a million excuses for what she’d said. It was late, she was tired, she wasn’t thinking. But maybe it was simply an utterance of the truth that had been building, because it felt good to say out loud, even if it didn’t change anything.

A confession whispered in the dark, loud enough to cut through the thick fog of sleep in Azzi’s brain.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now, you know. Like, for real.”

An answer muffled by her face still pressed into Paige’s chest.

“Do it, then.”

Paige’s heart stops. She’s pretty sure she actually forgets how to breathe as Azzi’s eyes open and she lifts her head.

Azzi props herself up on an elbow. “Did you mean it, P?” Her eyes droop as if she’s just asked the most unimportant question in the world, not one that could completely ruin their entire friendship.

Paige is frozen, her blue eyes wide with shock. “I-” The lump forming in her throat stops her from answering, and that’s honestly fine, because she doesn’t know what she would’ve said. All she can do is stare helplessly, desperately blinking back tears.

Azzi’s gaze softens. “Baby, it’s okay,” she soothes, her voice still gravelly. Rubbing her eyes, she pushes herself up into a sitting position, sliding her leg all the way over so that she’s straddling Paige.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay? Unless you don’t want that,” she says gently. She leans forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Paige’s ear, getting a whiff of coconut and vanilla. She used my shampoo. It’s so domestic, and the realization further solidifies in Azzi’s mind that what she’s about to do is right.

Azzi looks down at Paige, unable to keep the excited smile off her face, knowing she’s wanted this for years now. As she places a hand on Paige’s cheek, the blonde gives a hesitant nod, and it gives Azzi the confidence to connect their lips.

It’s tentative and new and honestly, a little scary. Despite her outward demeanour, Azzi’s heart is racing just as fast as Paige’s as their lips move against each other. But as they both relax into the kiss, a sense of calm settles over them. This feels safe. This feels right. This feels like them.

Their foreheads stay pressed together as they break apart and inhale. Azzi wants to roll her eyes at the stupid smirk on Paige’s face, but she settles for kissing it off, finally able to do what she’s wanted to so many times before.

Paige’s hands roam Azzi’s body, touching everywhere she’d told herself she couldn’t. Azzi starts to plant sloppy kisses on Paige’s neck, but eventually the blonde feels the weight of the body on her start to press down more.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Az?” She pinches Azzi’s side.

Azzi barely lifts her head from where it’s buried in the crook of Paige’s neck. “Hmm?”

“You’re just gonna fall asleep, like right now? Really? Is kissing me that boring?” The older girl says exasperatedly.

“Yes,” Azzi deadpans. She lets the silence drag before breaking down into giggles. “We have so many nights to do this, and I’m exhausted.” She drops her head back onto Paige’s shoulder. “Talk to me tomorrow or something.”

Paige isn’t really mad, of course. She’s quite content to let her eyes fall closed as she holds Azzi in her arms.

—

Katie opens the door to wake them up the next morning. If she notices the way Azzi might be suspiciously holding Paige’s face or the way Paige’s hands might be suspiciously low on Azzi’s back, she doesn’t say anything. Closing the door, she smiles to herself. That can be a conversation for later. Right now, she’ll let Azzi enjoy something new for once.

—

Azzi is, in fact, not enjoying herself in the slightest. When she wakes up to an empty bed, she figures that Paige has somehow gotten up before her even though that has never happened in the entire history of their friendship and gone to help with breakfast. When she walks into a completely empty kitchen, her heart sinks. Where the fuck is Paige?

Wandering the house, Azzi is disappointed to find everyone’s door shut, including Paige’s. She doesn’t understand.

Azzi is getting tired of this weird cat-and-mouse game. She figured that kissing Paige would clear everything up and finally put a stop to it, but apparently she’d overestimated her best friend’s intellectual capacity or something, because why would she leave?

Breakfast is… awkward, to say the least. Paige is disturbingly polite and formal, visibly stiffening every time Azzi addresses her. Thankfully, no one comments on it, but Azzi is almost positive the tension is so thick that even her brothers have picked up on it.

When Tim suggests a ‘family day’, Azzi thinks that maybe she doesn’t give her parents enough credit. Now, her and Paige will have to interact, but at least they can avoid the awkwardness that would certainly come with being alone. She’s still super upset with her best friend, but she’s smart enough to know that anything she wants to say to the blonde right now wouldn’t help the situation.

—

Paige spends the day in her head. She’s really trying her best to act normal, but there's been an ever-growing knot in her stomach since she woke up in a panic at four in the morning.

After getting out of Azzi’s room as fast as she could without waking the younger girl, Paige had spent several hours in the bathroom as she hyperventilated. Then the tears had come, not stopping until she was crying so hard she was gagging over the toilet. Why did I say anything?

As far as Paige is concerned, Azzi’s response meant nothing good. Either she’d kissed Paige out of pity, or it meant so little to her that she hadn’t given it a second thought. Clearly, the dark-haired girl didn’t want to go further than kissing her, and she hadn’t even done that for very long (as evidenced by how quickly Azzi went to sleep).

The realization that Azzi must see this as nothing more than something best friends could do had haunted Paige as soon as it had dawned on her. It all made sense really, why Azzi had never addressed the flirting either. It had to be nothing more than a game to her. The worst part is that, in spite of everything, she still craves Azzi’s touch and comforting presence beside her.

Paige can’t even say anything. It’s not fair to tell her best friend how far from a game it is to her. And it especially isn’t fair to tell her that she accidentally broke Paige’s heart.

—

As the day goes on, Azzi calms down a bit. Paige is still acting distant, but it doesn’t feel like it’s coming from a place of malice. The younger girl figures she knows her best friend better than basically anyone in the world, and the only way she could describe Paige’s behaviour would be ‘scared’.

It’s not something she’s familiar with because Paige is hardly afraid of anything, but the haunted look dimming her normally bright eyes quenches the flames of anger in Azzi’s heart to give way to worry.

Her instinct in the morning had been to drag Paige somewhere to talk it out, but because of family time, she’s had to settle for small gestures to get the blonde out of her perturbed state.

They’d teamed up to play board games and Azzi had actually gotten a couple laughs out of Paige and a high five when they won. She’d also accepted Azzi’s offer to be teammates in 2 on 2, and Azzi had breathed a small sigh of relief when their chemistry on the court was still as good as ever. Her own concerns had eased a little when the blonde had brought ice cream bars out of the freezer after dinner before Azzi even asked for one.

All of this led to the ultimate test — going up to Azzi’s room for their nightly ritual. Paige initially claims to be too tired, but after some urging from Katie and Tim to ‘complete the day’, she relents and reluctantly makes her way upstairs. She sits stiffly at the edge of Azzi’s bed, still not sure what to say.

“You can pick the show today,” Azzi suggests, standing up and walking across the room to her closet. “I’m just gonna have a quick shower before we start it, okay?”

“Okay,” Paige replies automatically. When Azzi leaves the room, towel in hand, the blonde sits frozen in place for a few minutes before panic overtakes her again. While Azzi had been acting totally normal, Paige had barely been able to keep it together even with the buffers of the rest of the Fudds. So there’s no way she’s going to be able to get through several hours alone with Azzi.

Coming to a decision, Paige stands up abruptly and makes a beeline for her room. Finally safe behind her closed door, she can’t dispel the guilt for what she knows is a situation entirely of her own creation.

—

Azzi steps out of the shower with a clear head. She won’t push too hard, but Paige is not leaving her room tonight until they’re on the same page about the kiss and what it meant. These good intentions are dispelled the moment she steps into an empty room. Getting dressed as quickly as possible, the anger from earlier in the day comes flooding back despite her efforts to quell it.

She only makes it through four deep breaths before she’s flinging her door open and stomping walking down the hall. She expects Paige’s door to be locked, but can’t help trying the handle to confirm her suspicions. When it doesn’t budge, she insistently taps her knuckles against the wood.

“Paige Madison, I’m not doing this with you again, so help me God.” She doesn’t raise her voice, conscious that the whole house is in bed, but her tone tells Paige that she means business.

Azzi hears shuffling and a long sigh before the door opens slightly.

“What is it?” Paige stares at the floor.

“You know what,” Azzi says exasperatedly. “We clearly need to talk about this.”

“Do we? Talk about what?” Paige says evasively.

“Paige, you can’t even look at me.”

“Fine,” The blonde sighs dramatically again. “Can we at least not do this right here?” Azzi clearly isn’t letting this go, and Paige will take any extra time to get her thoughts together that she can get.

“We can do this wherever you want,” Azzi says flippantly. “But you have to promise you’ll actually talk to me, I can’t do this with you anymore.”

For the first time that night, Paige’s eyes meet Azzi’s. “I promise I’ll talk to you,” she says in a small voice. “Can we go to your room? It’s farther from everyone else.” She doesn’t want to explain the real reason: being in Azzi’s space brings her a fraction of the comfort that the girl it belongs to does.

“Then let’s go.” Throwing a pointed look in Paige’s direction, the dark-haired girl grabs her best friend’s hand and drags her down the hallway.

Paige immediately flops down onto Azzi’s bed. “I changed my mind, I don’t wanna do this anymore,” she covers her face with her hands. “Can we actually just go to sleep?”

Feeling a weight on her stomach, Paige uncovers her eyes to find Azzi straddling her. “That is the last thing we should be doing,” the younger girl argues, “and you promised me. We don’t break promises.”

Azzi grabs Paige’s hands, pinning them to the bed. Paige can’t control the flash of heat that shoots through her body. When did this get so fucking confusing?

“I’m keeping you here until we’ve figured this out. I know where my head is on this, but I need to know what you’re thinking,” her voice softens, “and I don’t like seeing you so stressed.”

Paige is once again kind of in awe of her best friend. She’s both impressed at how mature Azzi is being about this, and shocked that Azzi doesn’t seem to realize the effect that their current position is having on her.

“You should think about where you're sitting,” she pouts. Her breath catches as Azzi shifts slightly on top of her. “How am I even supposed to focus right now?”

That was bold. Azzi wasn’t doing anything on purpose, but this is the closest to an explanation that she’s gotten, and she’s willing to work any angle to fix this. It’s not like I don’t want this, too. She stares down at the older girl, a challenge in her eyes.

“Maybe I did think about it. Can you handle this, or do you need me to move?” Azzi doesn’t even sound remotely apologetic.

“I can handle it!” Paige answers a little too quickly, earning a smile from the other girl.

“Don’t panic, I’ll go first while you think,” Azzi decides. “I kissed you because I like you, obviously as more than a best friend. I have for a while, actually-”

Paige cuts her off. “How long?” She has to know.

“Years, P, but that’s not important,” Azzi sounds mildly annoyed again. Paige, wisely, lets her continue. “I’ve spent too much time trying to figure out if it’s normal for friends to act like we do, but I don’t want you to kiss me because you’re bored or anything like that. I need you to know that this actually means something to me, okay?”

Azzi leans in and Paige closes her eyes, only to feel the press of Azzi’s lips on her cheek. She opens her eyes as Azzi starts to kiss all over her face.

“Your turn,” Azzi whispers in her ear. Paige shivers as the younger girl’s lips brush her ear. “Then we can do whatever you want.”

Azzi lets go of Paige’s wrists to run her hands down the blonde’s arms. The drag of nails against pale skin isn’t especially suggestive, but goosebumps still cover Paige’s body as she considers what exactly Azzi means. She shakes her head to clear it, certain that she sees a simmering hunger in her friend’s eyes that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

Paige swallows thickly. “I’m sorry for avoiding you,” the older girl begins sheepishly. “You were just confusing me and I didn’t want to overstep or scare you or mess up us, which I guess I did maybe but I never wanted that and I-”

She cuts herself off with a sharp intake of breath as Azzi begins to kiss her neck. It reminds her of the previous night, only this time Azzi doesn’t seem tired at all as she grinds her hips down in tandem with the rough kisses.

“Keep talking, baby,” the dark-haired girl stops to say. “You’re doing so well.”

Paige doesn’t know if it’s the praise or that name, but she feels heat bloom in her cheeks and travel down her body. The panic that had risen when she started talking subsides slightly.

Paige opens and closes her mouth, searching for the right words. “I like you a lot, too. I kissed you because I really wanted to… I want to all the time.” Feeling embarrassed, she looks away. “I think I always want too much with you. You mean everything to me, honestly.”

Maybe it wouldn’t make sense to everyone, but Azzi understands and it’s all she needs to hear. Paige, already having turned her head as far into the pillow as she can, doesn’t notice her best friend breathe a slight sigh of relief.

“Mmm,” Azzi nips playfully at Paige’s ear, “and what do you want right now?”

Paige glances down at the way their bodies are pressed together before she looks up at Azzi. They lock eyes, and there is only one word that encompasses everything she’s feeling. “You,” she breathes.

And finally, Azzi doesn’t press for more as she allows their lips to meet again. They’re both a little more sure than last time, and they fall into a comfortable rhythm with Paige’s hands on Azzi’s waist as the younger girl tugs insistently on her shirt.

In fact, there’s not much talking at all as they shed the rest of their clothes, then only the occasional whispered curse slipping from Paige’s lips as Azzi’s fingers and mouth finish what she started the previous night.

When they kiss again and Paige tastes herself on her best friend’s lips, it’s better than anything she’s ever dreamed up. And if Paige is a little nervous to return the favour, Azzi pretends not to notice as she gently guides the blonde’s hand between her legs, kissing her all the while.

—

Azzi is relieved to not wake up alone, realizing with a start that she’s wearing significantly less clothing than would be appropriate if anyone were to come in. Her frantic scrambling wakes Paige, who looks a little disoriented.

The blonde rubs the sleep from her eyes. “Hi,” she says softly, a content smile settling on her face.

The sound of her voice calms Azzi down. “Hi,” she responds, unable to keep a cautious undertone out of her voice.

Paige doesn’t register it as she’s too busy admiring the dark-haired girl. “You’re so pretty in the morning,” Her brow furrows. “And at night, and always, but especially right now.” She reaches for Azzi and her eyes slide closed.

“Go back to sleep, you sound stupid,” Azzi giggles. Locked once more in her best friend’s embrace, she can’t suppress her giddiness at how easily the words had flowed from Paige’s lips.

When they do finally get up (due to the incessant rattling of Azzi’s locked door), there’s a certain shyness as Azzi helps Paige put her clothes back on, but none of the awkward tension that had followed their first kiss. They talk in whispers until Azzi’s eyes drift to Paige’s neck and shocked laughter shatters the quiet.

“Everyone is so gonna know,” Paige panics as she examines the marks that have already begun to turn purple. “Your dad is gonna kill me or something!”

“You didn’t do anything, or at least it doesn’t look like it,” Azzi replies with a hint of pride. “It’s not a big deal, just don’t draw attention to them and no one will notice.”

—

Seeing Paige sit down to breakfast in a hoodie with her hair down (both things she’s done only a handful of times during her stay, and never together), Katie has no doubt that what she saw the previous day was, in fact, exactly what it looked like. She shoots Tim a look that says ‘I told you so’, and they both struggle to hide their smiles.

“Why all the layers? Are you getting sick, honey?” Katie bumps Paige’s shoulder as the blonde stands up to get a drink.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Paige mumbles as she looks at the floor. The blush that instantly colours her face has Tim choking on his coffee with suppressed laughter.

Azzi isn’t sure how her parents figured it out, but their playful jabs at Paige’s choice of attire don’t scare the younger girl as much as she thought they would. They know, and it’s okay. At least her brothers still seem to be completely clueless.

Paige, on the other hand, looks petrified as she struggles to explain to a still chuckling Tim why she doesn’t want to go swimming on this particular day. Even after shooting her best friend a pleading look, the only help she gets from Azzi is a reassuring squeeze of her hand under the table.

It’s a small gesture, all things considered, but it speaks to how far they’ve come that Azzi doesn’t think twice about it, and Paige doesn’t have any lingering urge to pull away.

Maybe they really will be fine.

#pazzi my loves #close #the covid fic #paige my love #azzi my love #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #pazzi fic

337 notes · View notes

chiwhorei · 1 year

Text

Bésame

Miguel O’Hara x reader

Tags: 18+ ONLY mdni, College AU, roommates to lovers, tooth-rotting love for this man, pussy-devouring, fingering, squirting, I wrote this in one go so you get what ya get

Word count: 2.3k- written in one, prolonged blackout

Notes: I’m fucking back bitches. I missed you, I missed this. I hope I stick around this time. This was supposed to be a blurb about squirting but the melancholy romantic won again.

Cross-posted to Ao3!

There’s something about the smell of crisp summer morning, the feeling of gentle air, humidity whispering across your face. The inescapable heat of late July is hidden from the world in its earliest hours.

“Keep up Mamí, I’m not getting stuck in the rain because you’re daydreaming.”

You pick up the pace, jogging in quick steps to catch up to Miguel. He’s farther ahead than you realized, strong muscles and wispy brown hair outlined by dark storm clouds.

Your breath is heavy, rattling against your ribs while you match the canter of Miguel’s long stride. He’s never gone easy on you, but your labored breathing makes him ease up a bit.

“What’s got your attention this morning? Or were you admiring the view behind me?” Miguel reaches up to adjust the cloth headband keeping his hair out of his face. His arms look like they’re chiseled from marble, strong, tanned skin flexes under the cutoff he wears in some iteration every morning.

Your eyes glaze over, not realizing the intensity of your gawking until Miguel’s eyes find yours. The color is deeper than usual, darker and melting into the black of his pupil. You write it off as the gloomy weather above, but he licks his bottom lip before relinquishing your stare.

You forgot what he asked you, but he doesn’t press the subject any further. Out of character, but appreciated.

“What time is your last class over tonight?” He asks, you fix your eyes on a stop sign ahead to avoid getting lost in his stare again. You see him from the corner of your eye, the angle making it seem that his gaze is focused on the bounce of your chest.

It’s just the angle, you sound even less convincing in your own head.

“Uh- well it’s Monday, so I have lab until 4:30.” You groan out the last part, ruminating on the long day ahead of you.

“My evening class got canceled for today, so I can take care of dinner tonight.”

You hum at him, his offer settles against your shoulders like honey. Something to look forward to at the end of a long day.

Sometimes he almost feels real.

He folded you into his life like melted chocolate. An easy, peaceful affection towards you since you moved in all those months ago. An offer to join his morning runs, filling a thermos of coffee for you to grab before leaving the apartment, coming home to dinner with that casual dismissal that makes your head spin.

“It’s no problem, mamí, that’s what roommates are for.” He’s always been so plain and earnest, smoothing over any objections with a sugary term of endearment and those big brown eyes.

Your heart aches so deeply when you forget that he’s just your roommate. Stabbing and twisting in your breastbone when you think about how much effort he must put in with dates.

You stop abruptly, feet cemented to the sidewalk and chest heaving rapidly. Miguel slows to a stop when he notices you missing from his side.

“Hey, don’t tell me you’re quitting, we’re two blocks from the apartment.” His voice is light, but his eyes fall from amusement to concern when he sees how hard your breath falls from your lungs.

“Whoa, what’s wrong, are you feeling okay?” He paces towards you and another deep inhale fills your senses with his musky scent instead of the rainy morning air you desperately need.

“I- I’m fine,” you struggle against the words, lifting your gaze to see Miguel’s sweat-slicked curls flop against his forehead.

You blame the early hour, or light-headedness, or a moment of delirium as your hand comes up to tuck the stray hair back under his headband.

“You’re so beautiful, Miguel.”

Your words tumble out, breaching the filter in the back of your mouth that keeps you from saying stupid shit to the man you’re stuck in a lease with.

Miguel’s breath hitches, concern falling away and filling its place with an unreadable expression. His eyes pace between your pupils, freezing the blood flowing under your skin. Why does his proximity make you act like a love-sick puppy? The frustration wells up, lining your tear ducts.

“That- I- I’m sorry.” You return his look with an awkward laugh, coughing around the lump in your throat.

Your body moves on autopilot, sidestepping his frame to make a run for it, but Miguel circles your wrist with a large palm. His skin is callused and warm as he pulls you to stand in front of him once again.

He holds you in his stare, burning eyes and the light grip of your wrist is more than enough to keep you in place.

There’s nothing more you can do but stutter around your tattered pride. Racking against your brain to find an excuse for your weird behavior. A possession? A moment of psychosis? You’ll call a priest later, but you first need to get away from Miguel and the sweet smell of cologne and sweat so you can think clearly again.

“Mi hermosa,” your balance is kicked out from under you as he holds both wrists against his chest.

Miguel’s lips dip down to you, you can almost taste his cherry chapstick as he traces his words above your mouth. You feel the first drops of rain as they hit Miguel’s cheek and bounce off your nose. Before you can taste that distinct cherry flavor, the angry crack of thunder pulls your bones from your skin.

“We need to get home,” you see a flash of lightning as it reflects in Miguel’s eyes, it splits the clouds and opens up a swollen reservoir- rain pounding down on the two of you, “we’re getting soaked Mig-“

“Say the word, Mamí,” He interrupts you, barely fazed by the storm that was ripped from your soul and clawed itself into the sky, “Tell me to fuck off and I’ll never try this again.”

Miguel drops his grip on your wrists, moving those eclipsing palms to the juncture of your neck. His lips beg for your touch once again and for the millionth time.

“Bésame.” Your accent is rigid and unpracticed, remedial at best but music to Miguel’s ears. His mouth meets yours in a wide smile, fingers finding purchase on either side of your neck.

His kiss is dripping and desperate, if you’re not careful you could drown right here and sink into the concrete.

All of the times you’ve imagined this moment are nothing compared to the real thing. He’s aggressive and hungry, licking into your mouth and vibrating your tongue with a growl.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Miguel bites at your lip before pulling away, his face is obscured in the pouring rain, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

How wrong he is, you think.

Miguel pulled you through the threshold of your shared apartment as soon as the door was unlocked, the only sense he has left is depleted- used up from keeping his composure while you fumble with your keys. His strong, broad arms circling around your waist to tug you ever closer, keeping your mouth open and whining against his.

Your feet lift from the carpet as Miguel lifts you up with the same effort as a paperweight. The feeling of his hands settling on your ass is the last pull against your unwinding composure. You’re legs wrap around his middle and you grind down hard against his abdomen.

“Fuck, I can feel your pussy through your leggings.” His words make you dizzy, grinding against him with a brainless rhythm.

“We don’t have to,” his lips trace down your neck between each word, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The sincerity in his eyes hits you squarely in the chest and moving across your skin like fever.

“Miggy, I need you. Please, anything you give me- I’ll take it.”

Your even tone shocks the both of you, the most confident you’ve sounded all morning.

“Fuck, I almost want to make you regret those words.” His teeth graze the tender spot under your chin.

“But the first thing I want is a taste of that sweet little cunt.” You’re sure your knees would buckle if Miguel wasn’t holding you, the rough tambor of his voice will be the death of you- you’ll take your chances.

Miguel carries you past the small kitchen and living area, you don’t notice where he’s sat you until he pulls his lips away from yours.

His room smells like fresh laundry and pine, the bedspread he’s set you on is tucked neatly on either side and soft under your touch. You’ve sat in this exact spot plenty of times, to study into the late night, to watch reruns of your favorite show on lazy Sunday afternoons- but never like this.

Miguel pushes you lightly so your back hits the mattress, he spreads your legs apart at the knee and you feel the tight fabric of your leggings as it shifts against your pussy.

Your running set is tight against your skin, sweat and rain covering your trembling body so that every inch is sticky and damp.

Miguel’s pointer and middle finger rub against your pussy, memorizing the outline of your plush lips under thin nylon. He’ll tuck the image into the back of his mind in case he needs it later.

“Mmm, no panties this morning,” he muses, pressing his thumb against your clit.

Miguel pulls at the fabric on your pussy, letting it snap back against your skin, you can feel the tight material drenched from your aching pussy. You want to tell him that you can hardly take this teasing, but all that comes out is a wobbly string of please, please, please.

“Don’t worry, Mamí, I’m gonna take care of you.” Your thoughts don’t catch up to him until the chill of open air hits your bare cunt. Your soaked leggings are tossed to the corner of his almost clinically clean room.

Miguel takes a moment to marvel at the sopping wet pussy he’s got trapped against his mattress.

“Que maravilla,” he kisses his words flatly against your puffy lips before coaxing them open with his nose. His face is covered in you already, glistening across his lips and chin. But it’s not enough, it won’t be enough until you drown him.

His tongue laps at you like you’re what’s keeping him alive. He kisses with his mouth open, collecting your offering to him and drinking it down with every flat lashing of his tongue.

You taste tangy and sweet, a heady mix of sweat and pheromones that pulls him in ever closer. Desperate to drink his fill of you. Every long swipe at your sloppy hole is dotted with a kiss, every inch of skin is electric- zapping against your clit with every measured nip.

Miguel’s fingers find their way to rest against your pussy, pushing in gently when he’s satisfied with how well his tongue worked you open.

Once the digits are wettened, Miguel pushes two in to the first knuckle. He groans at the feeling of how welcoming your pussy is, how responsive you are to his touch.

He licks his praises against your soft skin as your muscles relax around the thick intrusion. His vision fuzzy at the edges thinking about how you’ll take his cock. The thought is pushed back for now, lingering on it could break you when he’s just gotten started.

Your hips rock down against him, catching your clit with his wide palm.

Your whimpering emboldens him, cock weeping in the waistband of his shorts. He’s harder than he’s ever been, the frustrating ache in his balls is poured right into the quickening pace of his fingers. He needs you to break- crumble into pieces so he can put them back together.

“Miguel, fuck, I need- you need to slow down or I’m gonna“

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, Miguel is hypnotized at the sight of your pussy spilling over against him. He doesn’t relent even as you cry out and shake under him. He doesn’t miss a beat as your pussy squelches, clear liquid splashing against his chest.

“Oh fuck, you didn’t mention you’re a squirter.” His pace is torturous, pumping against that spot deep inside you that turns you into a puddle.

Once his other hand comes down to circle your clit, you know that you’re done for. The fear of letting loose like this is something that holds your rigid body from completely letting go. No one’s ever pulled you from that damn before, but Miguel has torn it down completely.

“Let go for me, Mamí, need to feel you cum against my fingers, need to see you squirt for me again.” The words drip from his mouth like hot syrup and coat your stiff muscles.

He pulls more out of you with each pump of those skilled fingers, more than you ever thought you had in you, more than you could imagine.

You cry as you cum, tears spilling over your cheeks in fat streams. The feelings you’ve kept inside for Miguel, the schoolgirl crush, the craving, the primal need all splashes against the both of you with the telltale spasm of your cunt against his fingers.

Your mind feels like it’s been dipped in wax, dripping from it’s fixed position to coat your shoulders. He makes quick work of tugging you back down to earth, lying next to your limp body with an anchoring hand on your stomach. He coos you, whispering praise into your hairline.

The sun peeks through Miguel’s window, clouds moving on to the next town and leaving the still early morning to brighten up the sky. Your face feels hot in realization.

You’ve got a long day ahead of you.

* * *

All work is mine blah blah I don’t wanna go find my old copyright thing but I’ll piss in your water supply if you steal this.

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #atsv x reader #miguel spiderverse

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euphoricfilter · 8 months

Text

more silent love:

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au

summary: jungkook’s book of silent love

tags/ warnings: more fluff, they’re in love it’s kinda sickening, more silent ways to say i love you. i am once again sleepy and thinking of the cute kinda love

notes: part two of this fic, but can be read as a standalone :D

where you can find all my other work!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

The list of silent love is a forever growing one.

A small notebook sits on the kitchen table, one you had never bothered to pick up. Though Jungkook likes to spend quiet evenings alone, handwriting far from legible as he scribbles down each of these precious moments.

Memories set in stone as the ink seeps into flimsy paper; perfect, beautiful, love tucked between pages like his own little secret.

As of late, the both of you spend Sunday afternoons learning how to bake bread. A new type of loaf every week, flour clinging to clothes and smiles tugging at both your lips. It had become your own personal mission to never buy bread again, taking hours out the afternoon, simply basking in the company of one another as you learn something new.

He finds himself associating the smell of fresh bread to you. Quirk of a smile tugging at his cheeks as he walks past bakeries, fleeting memory of you in the forefront of his mind. A permanent home you've burrowed.

Jungkook, of course, likes to make you sandwiches with your homemade bread. Some mornings waking up, quietly slipping out of bed before you wake to pack you lunch, sweet little note slipped into your bag before he hears your footsteps patter out the bedroom, sluggish as you wake up.

And on those mornings your patience wears a little too thin, the world a little too much for you to take so early in the day; Jungkook will make sure to sit you down in front of the vanity. Where he detangles your hair ever so gently. Careful as he helps you put your earrings in– he’d gotten quite good over time, learning how to match your jewellery to what you were wearing. Observant in all your favorite pieces that he knew he could never go wrong with.

Every night as he showers, you sit yourself up on the kitchen counter, reaching for Jungkook’s favorite herbal teas. And every night, as he dries his hair, slinking into the kitchen, there will always be a tea there waiting for him.

He wonders how you’d learnt to time it perfectly. Knowing when to pour the hot water with just enough time before he gets out of the shower where the temperature is perfect. So he can easily slip under a blanket with you, your cold feet warmed up between his thighs as he sips sleepy tea and you doze off beside him.

He’d learnt you loved when he made you heart-shaped pancakes. And as much as he always eyes the cute little pancake pans online, there will always be something slightly more rewarding about his own hand-crafted hearts that have you giggling into his mouth– lips syrup sticky and sweet. That slight effort more just to see you smile forever lighting up his life.

He likes to watch you smile as you re-read your favourite books. Where he’d taken time out of his lunch breaks to respond to all the annotations you’d made on your first read through.

He’d glance up at you from his phone as the pen glides across the page, your own mind conjuring up replies to his questions and comments. Like that in itself was its own love language. Silent words slipped between pages of stories that aren't your own, words that only the two of you will ever see. A glimpse into your mind and in return a peek into his.

Every time he is the cause of your smile, his chest goes warm and his heart feels fluttery and light. So gooey warm and raw and lovely and so many words, so many thoughts and feelings all at once he will never be able to truly explain it in words. And maybe that’s why he likes to write down all the precious moments you share. Because that is love. The epitome of love in every sense of the word and it's meaning and yet, it's more than that.

It is your shared love in words without fancy vocabulary and poems and unheard confessions of adoration that will never leave the corners of his mind. Simply unreadable gibberish to hold each of these moments in time, cradled against his beating heart, so that even when the both of you leave this world, part of your love will live forever between the pages of that book.

Because that's what your love is. An eternal thing that will dance between the stars after death and kiss the both of you in your graves as you blossom into new life. Sure to meet one another again no matter where you end up.

You are Jungkook's forever, even if that means he has to scour the earth to find that little notebook, to relive those memories and learn to love you the right way again.

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook #bts x reader #bts #jjk #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook fic #bts non idol au #jungkook fluff

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boldlyvoid · 2 years

Text

Employee of the Month

eddie munson x reader

Summary: To make some extra cash before Christmas, Y/N takes a job stocking the grocery store shelves at midnight, unbeknownst to her that her high school crush also works there

Warnings: mutual pining, partial slow burn, parental death, mentions of Eddie's murder charges (now dropped), being ostracized by the town, teasing, flirting, sick Eddie, hurt/comfort, falling in love, first kiss, first times, virgin Eddie, virgin reader, making out, grinding, dry humping, cumming in pants. they're really horny touch starved adults

word count: 9k

In a last-ditch effort to make some more money this Christmas, she takes a job at the local grocery store to stock the shelves at midnight. It’s not too bad, there are only 16 shelves and about 30 feet of freezer to restock, she gets to bring a walkman and headphones and wear whatever she wants. As long as the shelves look nice come morning, the boss didn’t really care.

From the first night she worked there she knew it was going to be a good fit, mainly because the other stock person she’s been partnered with is the same guy she had a massive crush on in high school. Eddie Munson had one hell of a year while she was trying to graduate, he was getting accused of murdering her classmates. He disappeared mostly after that, the school gave him a pass and his diploma so they didn’t have to see him again, the town pretended they didn’t try and murder him in revenge for an entire week and she didn’t see him again for a while.

“Hey,” she waves at him with her lips pressed together in a tight smile, “I’m—

“Y/N,” he points at her name tag with a matching smile. “I take it you’re my new buddy?”

She nods, “yeah… um, what are we doing tonight?”

“The snacks and chips aisle, the milk fridge and the cheeses,” he recites the list as he pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to her.

While she is just in jeans and a sweater, nothing too fancy, he’s in a navy blue jumpsuit with his name embroidered on the left breast, and just under it, the grocery store logo. He was in uniform… “why don’t I have to wear one of those?”

“Oh, I got this for being the employee of the month,” he shrugs it off, not meaning to brag in the slightest. “You like it?”

“Yeah,” she smiles like a fool, nodding quickly and looking at the list he handed her to avoid his eye contact.

She liked him so much in high school, and he was still so cute, it was all coming back to her. He’s much more laid back and reserved now, it has been over a year since she’s seen him in person, too. It made her wonder if he was still that same loud, opinionated nerd that she admired from a distance.

He’s super nice about teaching her the right way to restock everything, bringing the old stuff to the front and the new things get pushed to the back of each shelf. They split up the aisles and met in the middle, trying to beat each other each time. He sang along to the radio playing over the speakers, and he danced when he thought she wasn’t looking… he was just as cute as he was in high school.

They end up making a good team, they finish their list and pick up a few extra chores. They change a lightbulb in the guest bathroom, take inventory of the magazines and run disinfectant over every surface they could until their shift ends. It feels like it takes forever, they’re awkward when talking to each other but it’s kinda easy to hang out with him. This was going to be a good job for her.

“You need a ride home?” He asks in the staff room after work, both of them putting on their coats and scarves. The November chill in Hawkins was not nice.

She shakes her head and starts to point, “no, I just live—

“You can’t walk home in the middle of the night,” he cuts her off. “There’s too many creeps and animals out there. I don’t mind where it is?”

“Okay,” she gives in easily.

She gives him her address as they walk out to his van, he opens the door for her and lets her hop in before closing it for her too. He asks her about how long she’s lived there, trying his best to make conversation but it hurts.

“Uh, we’ve always lived in Hawkins, my house is still a mess from the earthquake but the insurance is fixing it soon,” she assures, nervous for him to see the state of the place when he pulls up. “If my dad was still here he’d probably have it done by now, but it’s just me and my mom.”

“God, I’m sorry,” he felt so bad for asking. “That was the worst fucking week ever.”

“yeah… it sucked for everyone,” she doesn’t even know how to touch upon what he went through. “Glad it’s over.”

“More than you know,” he sighs, turning onto her road finally.

He doesn’t want to come in for coffee or anything, he gives her a smile and a wave and watches to make sure she gets inside her house safely before driving away.

She thinks about him well into the morning when she should be sleeping. It’s easy to get sucked into an imaginary life where he asks her out after a shift and they hang out and fall in love and she finally gets to kiss that smile off his beautiful face… it’s not easy to make it come true. She would go to her grave with the fact she thinks he’s handsome and nice and funny and cute. She’s not big on sharing feelings, having no one to ever really share them with, in the first place.

—

She doesn’t see him unless she’s working, which was only 3 nights a week, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

She uses those 3 nights wisely. She wears something nice but not too suspicious, and she always smells nice and does the best she can with her hair and makeup… she wants him to think she’s pretty. She wants to catch him staring at her instead of how many times he caught her looking at him as a teenager.

He tells her that she looks nice every day in many different ways.

“Did you come straight from the ball, princess?”

“You know this is a grocery store, not a fashion show, right?”

And her personal favourite… “It's too cold out there for you to come in looking so hot.” With a wink. A fucking wink. It almost made her pass out.

He does it just to bug her, he likes to make her squirm and lose every thought in her head. He laughs when she stutters through a response and he always pats her shoulder gently and says, “I just mean you look nice today.”

She has a hard time reaching the top shelves sometimes and he has no problem coming over and standing real close to her. “Here, I got that,” he says in such a low voice it felt like a whisper. He reaches up and takes everything down for her, “do you want me to put them up for you too?”

“Sure,” she doesn’t mind, she works on the second highest shelf instead, still close to him, she watches him reach and extend his long arms and puff out his chest and ugh he’s so hot it makes her stare like an idiot.

“You’re drooling,” he teases her.

She wipes her face quickly, “what? No, shut up.”

He just giggles and finishes shoving the new stock toward the back of the shelf. She bumps shoulders with him right before he heads back to his stack of things, he had boxes of croutons to unpack. She was now moving on to salad dressings and other condiments.

She doesn’t dare start up any conversations, overthinking everything that comes into her head too much. She didn’t feel like he’d find anything she had to say interesting.

They’re in the soup aisle when he finally speaks again. “Can I ask you something?”

She’s a bit shocked cause he’s been silent for so long, but she nods.

“When you dream is there ever a specific topic you dream about the most?”

“Tornados,” she can answer without batting an eye. “I had one the other night actually… I don’t know why but there’s always a tornado.”

“That is an interesting one… did you just watch a lot of the wizard of oz growing up?” He teases.

She can’t help but smile, “no, I’ve actually never watched it.”

“You get more interesting every time you talk,” he means it as a compliment.

“Yeah? Well, why’d you even ask about dreams? Do you have a good one?” She turns the conversation back to him, taking a handful of soups and shoving them into the shelf.

“I keep having dreams in high school where I’m failing again and none of the teachers will pass me,” he explains. “And I had one last night cause I guess seeing you again so much is reminding me of being back in school.”

“Wait,” she turns to him full of shock and awe, “you remember me?”

“Of course,” he doesn't see it as a big deal. “Your lunch table was beside ours, I saw you every day?”

He saw me looking at him often…

She wants to turn inside out with embarrassment. “Oh, I uh, I didn’t think you paid attention to that.”

“How could I not? You always reacted the best when I did something stupid,” he reminisces, stepping in closer to her. “And I remember your laugh was cute.”

She’s too nervous to even giggle awkwardly, he’s in her personal space and he smells good and his eyes are so inviting, “thanks…” all the air in her chest leaves as she melts in front of him.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t do all that shit just for your attention,” he admits, licking his lips as he stares at hers.

It’s like time stops, her brain can’t process all the information so she just blinks a few times and stares back at him with a furrowed brow. “Really?”

He nods with a laugh, pulling away and returning to the stack of boxes they had to put away. “Yeah, I uh, I should probably feel a little stupid telling you this now after all this time, but uh, you bring the stupid out of me… I kinda had a huge crush on you back then.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he teases. “You act like thats a total surprise? You’re so pretty and you were never mean to me, it was bound to happen.”

She’s completely dumbfounded, “oh… that’s— I’m nice to everyone? At least I try to be.”

But then she realizes what he really said, he used to have a crush on her, but that’s long gone. He wouldn’t tell her if he still had one, would he? Guys weren’t that open about feelings, it was always a game with them… right?

“Sorry,” he realizes he fucked up by telling her. “I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just weird for me. I’ve never been told straight up that someone had a crush on me,” she’s really taken aback. “Thanks… really.”

“Anytime,” he blushes slightly, dropping it there.

He drives her home again like he does every night that she works cause he really can’t stand the idea of her walking home past midnight as the temperature drops. He has tried to offer to pick her up beforehand, but she doesn’t want to put him out, and her mom doesn’t mind dropping her off every night… but he asks again, anyway.

Parked outside of her house, he turns to her. “Can I please come pick you up before your next shift?” He all but begs.

“I guess,” she gives in, “why?”

He shrugs, “I like spending time with you.”

“Then why don’t you ever want to come in for a coffee?” She combats, really wanting him to come in. “I also have tea and hot chocolate…”

“Okay,” he gives in right back. “I’ll come in with you, tonight.”

“Really?” She lights right up and throws off her seatbelt, reaching for the door.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He panics, rushing out first and coming around to her side to open it up for her, “you’re gonna make me look bad, walking you to the front door and not getting the door for you is a crime.”

“If you say so,” she laughs at him as she hops out beside him.

He slams her door closed and with a hand on her back, he leads her toward the front door. “You sure you’re mom's okay with me being in her house?”

“Yeah, why not?” She honestly forgets.

“Well, I’m me?” He awkwardly laughs, feeling incredibly nervous about his reputation. “It’s honestly why I’ve not said yes yet, I don’t know who hates me still…”

“Oh god, no, she doesn’t hate you, she doesn’t hate anyone,” she puts up both hands in a sort of surrender that made him smile. She meant it. “She’s also asleep so you won’t have to talk to her at all.”

“Okay,” he assures her, rubbing his hand over her shoulder with a smile.

Every time he looks at her like that she wants to melt right into him, to swim around in the chocolate pools of his eyes for hours on end. He’s so beautiful, she’s never going to get over it.

He leans in closer, looking at her through his lashes, “Are we going inside soon, it’s cold out here?”

“Sure, yeah,” she remembers what they were doing, digging her keys out of her pocket. She unlocks the door and pushes it open, slipping in first and letting him follow.

Inside he kicks off his shoes and hangs up his jacket beside hers before following her all the way into the kitchen. He’s as quiet as a mouse, respecting that her mom is asleep somewhere in the house.

“So what’ll it be?” She asks, opening up the fridge to take a look while he sits down at the kitchen counter.

“Oh, I’m good, I just wanted to come in with you,” he admits but by the look on her face, she doesn’t believe him. “Seriously, I’m just going to go home and sleep anyway, it’s fine.”

“You’ve gotta have something… come on?” She stares him down, “Pepsi? Ginger ale? Water? What about a snack?”

“I’m fine,” he means it. “What do you normally have when you come home?”

“It’s always different, sometimes my mom makes something for us for dinner and other nights I just have like a pop tart,” she shares, opening the cupboard and taking out a box.

“I could actually go for a pop tart,” he admits, eyes up the box in her hands.

She laughs and opens up one of the silver, crinkly packets and hands him one. He takes a big bite and dramatically throws his head back with a groan, “fuck, I forgot how good these are.”

“And you would’ve kept forgetting if you didn’t come in with me, so I guess you have to from now on,” she teases, feeling a lot more confident with him suddenly… she felt like things could be fun between them. If he wasn’t going to fall in love with her, she might as well try for being his best friend.

“You’re too cute to say no to,” he can’t help but smile at her.

“Again, you’re the only one to think so,” she rolls her eyes, not believing him. He was just a flirt, it wasn’t the truth… right?

“More for me, then,” he shrugs, taking another bite from his pop tart and dropping it there.

—

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride?” Her mom asks from the kitchen.

“I’m fine,” she calls back, staring out the front window, watching the street for Eddie’s van. “My co-worker offered to pick me up.”

“Oh, which one?”

“Um, Eddie…” she turns around slowly to see her mom standing in the doorway now. “Eddie Munson.”

“Oh,” she is a little shocked to hear that name after so long. “I didn’t know he was still in Hawkins?”

“He works nights so no one has to see him,” she explains, “cause people are mean… he was really scared to come in last night after work cause he didn’t want to upset you by coming into your house.”

“Poor boy,” she feels so bad, never wanting her home to strike fear in someone. “I knew you wouldn’t have a crush on a monster, and the police cleared him, this town owes him an apology too.”

“I know,” she agrees but she doubts it’ll ever happen.

Sometime during their chat, Eddie pulled up outside and made his way to her front door where he laid a few knocks. She opens the door with a huge smile, “hi, sorry you didn’t have to come all the way to the door.”

“I wanted to,” he assures her, seeing her mom peeking over her shoulder. “Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Hello,” she gives him a little wave. “Have fun at work you two, I’ll see you, tomorrow sweetheart.”

“Bye mom,” she slips outside with Eddie, knowing her mom was going to watch them walk back to his van.

He extends his hand and holds hers as they walk down the few steps of her porch, he drops her hand only to place it on her back as he leads her toward the passenger door. He opens for her, like always. He runs around the van, sends a wave to her mom at the door and then hops inside, “ready?”

“Ready,” she can’t bite back her smile anymore, she was so giddy about holding his hand that it made her feel like a little girl again.

He pauses for a moment and looks her up and down, “did you get all dolled up 'cause I’m driving you?”

She tilts her head to the side, annoyed cause he always asks, “I always look like this.”

“Beautiful, you mean?”

She walked right into that one.

“Fine, I’ll let you have it this time,” she gives in.

“Good,” he throws the van in drive and heads out of her little neighbourhood towards town.

He’s quiet for a bit, she looks around at the street lights and the businesses still open, as well as all the houses with their Christmas lights up already. “I miss it was still kinda sunny out at 8pm,” she sighs, staring out the window at the full moon rising over Hawkins.

“I like the dark,” he shares. “Less people are out.”

“Why don’t you move? Not that I want you to leave, but wouldn’t it be more freeing to have no one know who you are? You deserve a real life,” she lets her feelings fall right out. “You’re not a bad person, you never have been.”

“Thanks,” he reaches out his hand and rests it on her thigh. “But it’s ‘cause everyone I love is here, I can’t leave.”

“Right, so are you still in your band then?”

He lets out a very surprised chuckle, “yeah, I still have my band, we still play Tuesday nights, it's the only night I don’t work.”

She wouldn’t know that cause she didn’t work that night either, “I’ll have to come see you play sometime, I don’t have any classes that night.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were in school still?”

“Community college,” she doesn’t feel so ashamed telling him. “Most my friends went off to real schools but it’s the only place I could go to for free, so.”

“Hey, at least you got in,” he celebrates the bare minimum. “I couldn’t even dream of it with my GPA. I was thinking I’d wait a few years and get some kind of degree when I’m considered a mature student, and when people forget about me.”

She wants to tell him that she’ll never forget about him, she never did. She thought about him all the time. She couldn’t hear Metallica on the radio without thinking about him. Every jean jacket patch made her think about him. She took a double take when she saw a man with long hair hoping it was him. She thought about him before she went to bed, in her dreams and as soon as her eyes opened in the morning.

She was completely in love with him.

—

She was only going to work for the holidays, and now that Christmas was only a few days away, she was worried that she only has a few more weeks left with Eddie. And for some reason that makes her want to get him a Christmas present, almost as a way to buy a place in his heart so he doesn’t forget about her when she’s not his buddy anymore.

And then he doesn’t show up for work… she’s been waiting to see him all week, and he’s a no-show.

So she asks her shift manager who says Eddie called out earlier in the day really, really sick. It makes her heart hurt knowing he wasn’t feeling good.

So she pushes through her shift. It’s weird without him, but she does it. She walks home for the first time and it’s a lot colder than she expected. The wind on her face and the snow in her hair, melt as the heat from her body escapes from her head. She gets home finally and she’s shivering, she wants to wrap herself up in a blanket and sleep for days, instead goes right to the kitchen. She searches through her cupboards for a couple cans of chicken noodle soup and some crackers, she grabs a few cans of ginger ale and takes her mom's keys. There’s no way she’s going back out there

She drives right into the trailer park and follows the road slowly, scanning the driveways for eddies van until she finally finds it. She parks outside the blue and white trailer and carefully heads towards his door, not wanting to slip with a handful of cans.

She knocks carefully, the lights are all still on so it’s not like she’s waking him up… and then another man she doesn’t know answers. “Yes?”

“Hi, I’m so sorry but is this Eddie’s trailer?” She panics.

“It is.”

“I brought him some soup, I heard he was sick and that’s why he couldn’t make it to work tonight…”

“Oh, that’s sweet, come on in out of the cold,” he ushers her right inside the tiny trailer. “Sorry for the mess, we’ve both been battling this random cold, I got it at the plant and he finally got it from me yesterday.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry,” she sympathizes as she lays everything down on his kitchen counter. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Wayne, Eddies uncle,” he introduces himself. “He’s talked a lot about you, I was wondering when I’d get to meet ya.”

“Oh, really?” She can’t believe it.

“yeah… you know, I can put that soup on, you can go down the hall there and see him, he’s just reading in bed, I think?” He points.

“Oh, okay sure,” she doesn’t mind, she was honestly expecting Eddie to live alone and have an empty kitchen, not an uncle who loved him dearly there to take care of him.

She shrugs off her coat and takes off her boots first and then she heads down the hallways carefully, she knocks on his closed door, waiting for the all-clear to enter… and his “yeah?” Comes out so sad and sickly that it makes her heart hurt.

She pushes the door open carefully, “hey… I heard you were sick?”

“Y/N?” He sits right up, fixing his hair and wiping his nose. “I didn’t think you knew where I lived?”

“I just looked for the van, I think everyone knows you live in the trailer park,” she realizes how weird that sounds.

“True, still I can’t believe you’re here?”

She comes in and takes a seat on the edge of his bed, putting out her hand to hold the back of it to his forehead, “you’re all fevered, oh no… have you taken anything?”

He nods, “yeah, some Buckleys…”

“I brought you some soup, Wayne’s heating it up for you,” she explains with a soft smile. “He’s sweet.”

“Where’d you think I got my charm from?” He teases, still well enough to try and make her smile.

She brushes his hair off his face gently, “I’m glad you have him to take care of you.”

“I’d much prefer you as my nurse… would you give me a sponge bath?”

“No,” she holds back her laugh and just shakes her head with a smile. “But nice try.”

“Damn,” he sighs, tossing his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes. Turning on the dramatics, he looks at her with the sweetest puppy dog eyes, “will you at least keep me company while I have my soup?”

“Of course,” she planned to stay as long as he needed her. “I just have to bring my mom's car back before 8am cause she needs to go to work.”

“I promise I won’t keep you long,” he reaches out for her hand, holding them with both of his own. “I really appreciate you coming to check on me… and might I say you look very cute today, I’m glad I didn’t miss this one.”

She melts at his words, “you must not be too sick if you’re still trying to flirt with me.”

“I’m going to remind you that you’re beautiful until the day I die,” he’s very stern about that.

“Yeah, like you’ll know me that long,” she plays it off.

He gives her hands a little squeeze, “I like to think I will… I might just be high on cough syrup, but I like to think I’ll find you in every life I lead, you’re so special to me, Y/N.”

“You’re definitely high,” she teases, leaning in forward to kiss his forehead as she stands up. “I’m going to check on your soup… you sober up by the time I get back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he agrees but doesn’t drop her hands, he holds on as long as he can and then she slips away from him.

Wayne’s just putting the soup in a bowl as she walks back into the kitchen, she grabs a sleeve of soup crackers and a ginger ale, it's plated and then Wayne turns to her.

“You know he’s not kidding, right?”

“What?”

“He wouldn’t lie,” Wayne gives her those honest Munson eyes that she loves so much in his nephew. “And clearly you feel the same if you’ve come all the way out here at half midnight to make him soup.”

She feels the colour leave her face as she’s caught red-handed, she was doing this because she loved him so dearly she couldn’t stand spending a shift without seeing him. She wanted to always take care of him. She loved him. It was as simple as that. She just loves him.

“Life’s too short to not tell each other,” he adds some last words of wisdom and hands her the tray of her lover's dinner.

She’s extra quiet when she brings him his dinner, and when she sits on the end of his bed to accompany him while he eats. He has a book resting face down, cracked open to keep its page, resting beside him. She reaches for it, checking the cover, it’s the fellowship of the ring.

“I’ve never read The Lord of the Rings, is it good?”

“It’s the best book series there is,” he assures her while taking another spoonful of soup.

She keeps her thumb where Eddie was reading but skips back to the first few pages, reading it over quietly to see if she’d like it at all… it’s cute. “You can read it from the beginning if you want?”

“Out loud?” She wonders if he’d want to hear that too.

“As if you could get any better,�� he manages to smile no matter how sick he feels. “Please, I’d really love that.”

“Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.”

He basks in the way her voice sounds alongside his favourite book, words he’s read so many times and heard in his own voice now being retold in hers. He listens ever so intently, enjoying it more than she’d ever know as she watches the page, trying her hardest not to stutter and to pronounce all the words right so he didn’t laugh at her… but even when she gets stuck he just affectionately corrects her and admires her as she continues.

She makes it through the prologue and the facts about hobbits and pipeweed and the shire by the time he’s done eating. He has enough energy to take his dishes out to the kitchen himself and returns with a smile. She made her way up to the pillows beside him and slipped under the covers so he could get in beside her, “come on, I’m reading you a chapter or two and then I’ve gotta go home.”

“Right,” he gets into the bed beside her and snuggles right up to her, he wraps himself around her arm with his cheek on her shoulder so he can watch the page as she reads on through chapter one.

He falls asleep like that, with a warm belly full of soup and a heart full of love, it pains her to get up and possibly disrupt him.

She does get up, slowly but surely, replacing herself with a pillow that he snuggles up to instead. She kisses him on the forehead, he’s not as fevered as before, hopefully he felt better tomorrow. She takes a look around for a scrap piece of paper, finding one on his dresser with a sharpie marker. She leaves her phone number and a little note.

Call me tomorrow, I want to know if you’re feeling better. Hopefully we can finish this sometime.

xx Y/N

She slips it into the book and leaves it on his night table and then she’s off. She says goodbye to Wayne who’s still awake because if he sleeps he’ll throw off his schedule when he goes back to work. He also did night shifts, so he wouldn’t be there next time she comes over after work… that’s good to know.

—

He takes the whole weekend off and it sucks, but she understands he needs the time to get better. He calls her to let her know that decision around 2pm on Saturday and they stay on the phone all the way up until she has to get ready for work.

Waynes gone back to work, leaving him completely alone in the trailer after they hang up the phone… and all he can think about is how she’s going to have to walk home again. It rattles around his brain most of the night, he paces the trailer, feeling like shit but his love for her is eating him alive and it hurts more than his congested nose. At 11:52 he finally says fuck it.

In his pyjamas and all, he throws on a coat and slips his feet into his boots, he snags his keys off the wall and he’s gone. He books it out of the trailer park, watching the clock on his dash to ensure midnight doesn’t sneak up on him. The streets are empty, so he doesn’t worry about racing through the yellow lights on his way to the store.

He pulls up with just a few minutes to spare, his heart racing, he just parks at the curb by the employee's only back door and he waits for her. He reaches over to the passenger door to roll down the window, wanting her to be able to see him… as if she wouldn’t notice that it’s his van. She knew his van.

She knew him.

And she liked him.

The heavy door slowly opens and he sees her, laughing with their co-worker as she buttons up the last few buttons on her jacket. She’s bundled up in a scarf and she has a hat on today, she planned to be warmer on tonight's walk home.

“Eddie?” She lights right up. “What are you doing here.”

“I may be on my death bed but I’m not letting you walk home in the dark, princess,” he assures her, pushing the door open so she can get in.

She waves goodbye to their co-worker, finishing their conversation before she hops in the van and closes the door. She rolls the window back up. “Burr, you’re you’re going to get sicker with this open.”

“I hope you don’t find it weird that I’m here?” He worries, “seriously, after everything that happened here, walking home alone at midnight isn’t smart… it killed me that you walked home yesterday and then still came to see me.”

“I know, it’s okay,” she reaches out to hold his gently in hers. “You can pick me up and drive me home all the time if it makes you feel better?”

“You’ve gotta want to spend time with me too,” he places his other hand on top of hers. “Don’t feel like you have to be nice to me, little miss I’m nice to everyone.”

“I am,” she feels offended. “I know you’re not stupid, you’ve gotta see I love spending time with you.”

“I like to hear you say it, sue me,” he smiles, his eyes flicking back and forth between her eyes and her lips. He’s so close to her already that he could kiss her.

But then he’d get her sick.

So he pulls back a bit and pats her hand as her grip loosens. “Let’s get you home.”

“Yeah,” she settles into her seat and puts on her seatbelt, he waits for the click and then he’s off, taking the familiar route back to her place.

He asks her about her day, what they did, and how they’re doing without him. She missed him, he can tell by the way she complains about being partnered with someone new. “They didn’t do anything the way you do, it felt so wrong.”

She thinks I do things the right way…

His heart soars the whole ride and then it ends too soon. He parks at the curb with a sigh, “I’m going to be up for a bit if you want to call me?”

“You don’t want to come in?”

He shakes his head, “I can’t get my germs all over your place.”

“Right, no I get it,” she understands, but she lingers. He stares at him for a sec, “walk me to my door at least?”

“Sure,” he can’t say no to her.

She stays put this time, he runs around to her door and opens it, expecting her to jump right out but she pulls him close, using her height in the seat to her advantage. She touches his forehead gently, “you’re not fevered today, that’s good at least… I’d hate to miss another week with you.”

“I’ll come get you tomorrow, but I’m not working,” he compromises, knowing he hates not getting to see her too.

She hops out of the van and takes his hand on the way up to her door, “I could get used to this treatment.”

“You should,” he agrees. “Cause I’m not giving up.”

In sickness and in health and all that jazz… he’d be there through it all if she wanted him.

At her door, she gives him those same eyes as in the van, and he wants to kiss her so goddamn bad but he can’t. He simply pulls her into a hug and holds her tight, cheek pressed to the top of her head. She holds him around the middle just as tightly, it's a beautiful goodbye for a couple of friends.

—

He comes to pick her up for her next shift once again, only this time he pulls her into a hug at the door and kisses the top of her head, “hey, sweetheart, ready for work?”

She can only nod against him, soaking in the hug as long as she can get. “What was that for?” She asks as he pulls back.

He shrugs, “just cause… I missed you, I guess.”

“I missed you, too,” she wraps her arm around his middle and holds him close as she joins him on the walk back to his van. “Which is funny 'cause we’ve been talking more than ever, lately.”

“I know,” he loved it and it was evident in his voice.

Every night that she’s not working they talk on the phone, from the time she’s done with her classwork until he has to leave for his night shifts. It was a lovely little tradition now, he loved to learn about all her projects and reports, and he even let her read things over for his opinion. More than once he’s called her a genius, but the best thing he’s ever said to her was “your future kiddos are going to love you.” In regard to the class of students, she was going to teach one day.

It’s a day like any other, they have little conversations on their way to work, clock in together and head right to the first aisle on their to-do list. He dances around to the music, they toss things at each other, he makes dirty jokes, and she shakes her head with so much love you could see hearts float around her head. It’s so completely normal.

And then she almost drops a whole shelf on herself, he’s quick to swoop in and catch it for her. They put it back in place and carefully let it go, making sure it stays put before she turns to thank him… only he’s about an inch, maybe two from her face.

“That was a close one,” he whispers, staring at her lips. “Would hate to lose you to the soup aisle.”

She can’t help staring back at his lips, wanting to kiss him so goddamn bad she forgets how to breathe for a moment. It’s like time stops while she stares at him and he stares back.

“I’d hate to lose you at all…”

“Why?” Even she’s surprised to hear it come out of her.

He doesn’t say anything, he simply leans in more, and so does she. Meeting him halfway, their lips touch slowly and then all at once. A hand of his cups her face, holding her in place while she holds his sides, pulling him closer so their chests are pressed together.

Breathing each other in deeply, she feels her soul intertwine with his at that moment. Everything makes sense. She was supposed to take this little job and spend all this time with him for this moment right here. It was always supposed to happen.

They were meant to happen.

They pull away with a matching smile, giggling as they come to terms with the fact that just happened… it finally happened.

“You understand what I mean, right?” He teases.

She nods, “yeah… I get it, but could you say it just one more time?”

“Here?” He teases, kissing her cheek. “Or here?” He kisses her jaw next and moves towards her ear, “I could say it all over you if you let me.”

“We’re still at work,” she reminds him, pushing him away slightly before he could kiss her neck and start something he couldn’t finish in the freaking soup aisle.

“Do you want to come over later? To kiss a bit and read more lord of the rings?” He offers, making it sound a lot more innocent than either of them wanted it to be.

“Only if you read the chapter this time,” she teases, heart racing in her chest at the prospect of being alone with him.

Him.

The one and the only crush she’s had for the last 6 years of her life.

He flirts with her more than ever after that, he steals kisses every time he passes her and even serenades the love songs on the speaker to her. She pokes his sides when she passes by him, learning that he’s ticklish and he yelps every time she does it.

In his van on the way home, after not being able to keep their hands off each other most of the night, they have to so he can focus on the road.

“Does this make us more than friends?” She wonders aloud, hoping he had the same worry.

He nods, “I’d hope so… but if you want me to ask, I can?”

He holds her hand in the middle of the centre console again, rubbing his thumb over her hand gently.

“What if I want to do it?” She teases. “I want to make you my boyfriend, I’ve thought about it for years.”

“That’s crazy,” he can’t believe it, shaking his head as he drives a bit faster, wanting to be home with her so bad.

“Why?” She sounds so defeated.

“I never thought you liked me, I thought you were just really smiley… you could’ve been mine this whole time,” he explains just how crazy it was for him. In a very good way.

“I can’t even imagine having a boyfriend in high school,” she admits.

He slows down when he enters the trailer park, follows the poorly plowed path towards his own trailer and parks. Finally turning to her again with a smile, “I’ve never had a girlfriend before either, it’s all really new to me too.”

“Was that your first kiss too?” She whispers, scared that it wasn’t.

She was right.

He shakes his head, “Cheryl Lenetti in grade 7… she liked to pet my head when we made out, she said my hair felt like a seal pup when it was shaved. So fuckin weird.”

It makes her laugh a bit, “I can’t imagine it short…”

“I’ve got pictures,” he assures her, “Wayne’s kept all my life well documented. He likes to tease me and say that he’ll sell the embarrassing ones to the tabloids when my band blows up.”

“I need to see them,” she agrees and lets go of his hand finally, reaching for her door but once again, Eddie rushes out to beat her to it like a bat out of hell.

She shakes her head with an affectionate smile, taking his hand again once outside and carefully treating through the lightly shovelled snow leading up to his trailer. He helps her out of her coat and hangs it up for her, leaving her to kick off her boots and awkwardly stand in his main room. It’s a lot more put together than the last time he visited. like he planned to invite her over, so it was clean this time.

“You want anything to eat?”

She shakes her head, “no… honestly I’m too nervous to eat anything right now.”

“Oh, why?” He moves into her space, hands on her shoulders, slipping down her arms while pulling her in closer.

“You’re handsome and you want to kiss me and I have no idea what I’m doing and— and,” she stops with a sigh and a shrug.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he says with so much affection his smile makes his cheeks hurt. His eyes glisten back at her, and he shakes his head ever so slightly, amazed that she likes him back this much. “You don’t need to be nervous, there’s nothing you could do that would make me stop liking you at this point.”

She takes the plunge this time, she presses her lips against his, holding his waist she wraps her arms around his back and holds him there. He’s shocked at first and then he settles, hand coming up to cup her face as he kisses back. She’s not completely sure what she’s doing, but she’s seen enough movies to imitate what she’s seen. He smiles into the 4th or 5th peck she presses to his lips and pulls back.

“Do you want to go sit down?”

“Like in your room?”

“If you want?”

She nods, cautious as ever but she wants to spend the whole night kissing him. He walks her down the hallway, into his dark room where he flicks on his side table lamp to show off his perfectly made bed and clean-ish room. “Welcome back,” he teases.

“You planned this,” she calls him out. “Did you know you were going to kiss me at work today?”

“Not at all,” he assures her, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Legs spread so she could stand between them, and she brushes her hands through his hair while he looks up at her. “I was going to ask you to come over, yeah, but kissing you was a surprise to me too… I like you so much it’s fucking crazy.”

“I like you just as much,” she leans in, bumping their noses together with a smile. “You want to teach me how to make out?”

He laughs, scooting up to the head of the bed, resting against the headrest, “you want to lie down or sit in my lap, or what?”

“Um,” she bites her lip, deciding to be daring, she kneels on the bed and straddles his lap. “This is good, right?”

“Absolutely,” he rests his hands on her hips, smoothing his thumbs over the fabric of her pants. “I just want you to be comfortable, princess.”

She rests her forearms on his shoulders, hands in his hair, and she brushes his bangs out of his face to get a good look in his eyes. His big beautiful chocolate brown eyes that she loves so fucking much. “You’re so pretty,” she whispers. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

He shakes his head lightly, “no…”

“There,” she smiles. “You get my first kiss and I get to tell you how pretty you are—

“You can have all my other firsts too,” he whispers, selling his soul to her in the way he stares at her. She knows he’s giving all of himself to her at that moment. “You can have all of me.”

“I— I uh, I think we can start with kissing,” she frightens right up again.

“Sorry,” he runs his hands up her back gently, “I’m not expecting anything… I just wanted you to know there’s a lot I haven’t done with anyone either, I’m just as new to this. We’re on the same level.”

“Not yet,” she finally leans in for another kiss, holding his face in her hands to keep herself steady more than anything.

He licks at her bottom lip, it’s strange but she follows his lead, coming back in with an open mouth their tongues touch for a moment and then he sucks on her tongue. Again and again, they both come back in, exploring each other's mouths while his hands trail up and down her back and she plays with his hair once again.

She doesn’t mean to grind against him, but her hips take over like they have a mind of their own as the pace and rhythm are set with through tongues. He moans into her mouth, pulling back with a shade of embarrassment painted across his cheeks. “sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she’s a little breathless, so enamoured with him.

He stares back at her fondly, taking in how cute she looked with lust-blown eyes and swollen lips, he smiles, “you’re good at this…”

“Feels like it,” she teases, making him think she can feel how hard he’s getting under her and he panics.

“You don’t have to sit on me if it’s uncomfortable, I did’t mean to—

“To what?”

“Get hard…” he whispers, “it’s embarrassing.”

“Oh,” she hovers and looks down between them, more turned on, herself, than she realized, as well. “Oh.”

Maybe I am ready to do this…

She settles back down against him and shakes her head, “no, I’m not uncomfortable… it— it’s nice to know I did that, actually.”

“Can I just—“ he reaches between them and adjusts himself because it was a bit uncomfortable for him, he was hanging to the left and thats where her thigh was rested, and now he’s right under her… “sorry, it hurt a bit.”

“Sorry,” her cheeks heat up, she can feel his girth through his jeans, she has to fight every single urge not to grind down against him again, but she knows it would feel good.

For both of them.

“It’s okay, kiss me again?” He begs, pulling her closer.

Their lips collide again but with much more passion and need this time, knowing what she’s doing a bit better, she’s all over him this round. Biting his lip, making him whine, tugging on his hair, she grinds against him again, not so by accident because his hands on his hips help glide her over himself perfectly. She does it again this time, he gasps into the kiss and rests his forehead against hers as she does it again and again, dragging her hot core over his aching, clothed, cock. There’s so much friction from their jeans, they feel like total fucking teenagers dry humping in his bed like they can’t get enough of each other.

He kisses her jaw and down her neck, he sucks on her pulse point which makes her moan, it's so sweet and sexy that his cock twitches under his jeans in response. She feels it and whines, wanting more from him but not knowing what… it feels so fucking good she wants to just say fuck it and let him take her right here and now, but she’s still scared.

She grinds down a bit harder, the seam of her pants rubbing against her clit just right. “Oh my god,” she’s so out of breath, it feels too good.

“I’m gonna cum in my jeans if you keep this up,” he warns her, breathing against her neck between kisses.

“Me too,” she assures him, doing it again and again, she tugs on his hair to bring his mouth back to hers, wanting to be kissing him when it happens.

His hips come up to meet hers, his hands on her ass this time so he can help her press against him as hard as she can each time she grinds down against him. Her legs tremble a bit, his breathing sputters, and they’re a completely sweaty mess with too many clothes on.

She feels the all too familiar heat build in her stomach and spread throughout her body as she cums with a long drawn-out sigh, which ends more like a moan as he finishes underneath her. His grip on her ass tightens, and he groans deeply as his hips sputter under her, their foreheads resting together as they catch their breath, eyes still closed.

She feels so weightless and free, resting her head on his shoulder instead and cuddling into his chest. “Oh my god?”

His chest still rising and falling heavily, he laughs slightly, “wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me either…” she sighs, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “But I liked it.”

“Me too,” he can’t help but smile. His hands roam all over her back, holding her close and soaking up the moment as long as he can. “You wanna stay here tonight?”

She nods against him, not at all ready to leave his side. “I would love to.”

Slowly but surely, they get up, he lets her use the bathroom first, giving her some boxers of his and a t-shirt to wear when she comes back out. He changes quickly in his room, hiding all the evidence of what happened in his dirty laundry hamper. He matches her in a new pair of underwear and the same shirt from before, smiling when she comes back into his room with her things in her hands. She rests them on his dresser, she’d have to wear them again tomorrow when she goes home.

“You’re so cute in my things,” he compliments her, wrapping her up in his arms and kissing her forehead a few times.

“Thanks,” she giggles, completely blown away still that this is all real and he’s her’s and it’s happening.

They get into bed, and she snuggles into him the same way he did with her just last week with the lord of the rings. It’s cute, it feels right, and she feels at home in his arms. He runs his hands over her back. He kisses the top of her head a few times, she plays with the hem of his shirt in her hands and eventually slips her hands under his shirt to play with the slight dusting of hair on his tummy. They’re so content together it’s like they’ve always been this close.

And they always would be too.

part two

General Taglist

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @eddiemunson-rp @squishyturtle

Eddie

@fightingdragonswithwho @kyomito @reidselle @venomsvl @nomajdetective @girl-with-an-orange-cat @blairscott @princesseddie

@idkidknemore @eddiethesexy

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reidsdimples · 4 months

Text

Strictly Professional | Part 4

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

18+❤️‍🔥 MDNI ‼️

You go see Spencer in his hotel room after a case is wrapped up.

Part 1, 2, 3

“You’re staring,” JJ says, startling you.

“Wha-“ you say absentmindedly.

She nods towards Spence who is leaning against one of the black SUV’s talking to Rossi.

His legs are crossed at the ankles, his sleeves rolled up, and his hands are shoved into his pockets. The streetlights above his cast his features in stark shadows. It was… distracting to say the least.

“It’s the pants right? They’re more form fitting,” JJ laughs. You turn to her with your mouth agape.

“I wasn’t…”

“Come on, you’d have to be blind not to see how good he looks,” she nudges you.

“Aren’t you married?” You ask playfully,

“Married, not blind,” she winks.

You smile and roll your eyes.

“Yeah it’s definitely the pants,” you surrender.

“So make a move,” she says and hands you a piece of gum.

You’re all waiting around for Hotch and Prentiss to call you into the house a block down which they are staking out.

“No way, we’re coworkers,” you make an effort to sound appalled and hope she doesn’t pick up on the insincerity.

“Oh please, it wouldn’t be the first time romance struck the BAU,” she says. You give her a blank and confused stare. “Kevin and Penelope?”

“Oh right, but they work in different units,” you point out. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not interested in him like that,” you decide to shut the conversation down.

“What are we talking about?” Morgan hops in.

“Nothing,” you and JJ say in unison.

“Damn, okay,” he laughs and holds up his hands feigning innocence.

“He’s got the girl, we’re going in,” Hotch comes over the ear pieces. You all jump into one of the SUVs.

Morgan drives and Rossi takes the front seat.

You, JJ, and Spencer cram into the back in a hurry. You slam into Spence when you stumble over the middle console, your face colliding with his chest. JJ is shoving herself into the space next to you.

“Sorry,” you push yourself off of him and sit up. He lets out a soft laugh.

Your bulky vests make the whole thing awkward as the car speeds towards the unsubs house.

You’re in the middle, pressed into Spence who is looking everywhere but towards you. You inhale his familiar scent and your body comes to attention. It recognizes him, craves him. You adjust to pull your arm out from between the two of you and he lifts his arm to help. He props it on the head rest behind you but doesn’t touch you. He’s close enough that the heat and electricity starts buzzing between you. He clears his throat and you swear he’s adjusting himself by shifting his legs. You nearly smirk because you have the same effect on him.

The car stops abruptly and you’re all piling out of it. You get back on your A-game and pull your gun from the holster.

Somewhere in the house you hear Rossi reasoning with the man who comes into view.

The 10 year old little girl is trembling under his knife, her face streaked with tears.

“Hey Kelly,” Spencer begins quietly. You glance it him, unsure what he’s doing. The unsub seems put off too.

“Can you tell me how you feel, tell him how what he’s doing is hurting you,” he says gently. His gun is holstered.

The unsub had taken the little girl after his own daughter was murdered. He was trying to create a new life with a new child to fill a void. He didn’t profile as someone who would hurt the child.

“I don’t like it, it’s scary,” the girl cries.

“It’s going to be okay Kelly, we’re going to get you out of here,” Spencer says softly. She nods and sniffles.

“Lionel you hear that? You don’t want to hurt her the way they hurt Maya do you?” Rossi reasons.

“I want my daddy,” she cries again. Her small frame rattling with fear.

Lionel is looking frantically around the room, trying to find a way out.

“There’s no way out, you need to let her go. We can help you,” you say, keeping your gun centered on him.

“No one can help me!” He bellows angrily, causing Kelly to whine.

“Maya wouldn’t want this. You know you can’t replace her,” Spencer says.

That seems to break something in the man who drops his arm in defeat.

The girl sprints towards your team, immediately latching onto Spencer who allows her to grab his arm. She looks back at you with big teary eyes.

“You’re safe now,” you whisper to her.

The man is on his knees and the gun is kicked aside while Prentiss makes the arrest.

You and JJ walk with Spencer and the little girl outside where CPS will work out getting her home.

Cases didn’t always have happy endings but this was as close as it got. The mad had killed two other girls who didn’t fit his delusion but your team was able to save Kelly and stop him. It felt good.

“Good job in there,” you tell Spencer and offer him a fist bump.

“Thanks,” he reluctantly returns the odd gesture with a shy grin.

The team returns to the hotel and you’re so tired you can hardly think straight. The weight of the last week and a half finally starting to dissolve with the cases conclusion.

Once again you’ve had radio silence from Spence outside of professional interaction. Two weeks had passed since Penelope caught you red handed and you expected never to hear from him again.

You sigh and pour yourself a glass of red wine as you sink into the bathtub. You convince yourself it’s fine that he hadn’t made a move, you were fine with not having him. It’s fine.

But then time passes and you’re half a bottle of wine in, your mind wondering to the way those damn pants hugged his hips. The way it accentuated his ass and his long legs. You’re biting your lip when your hand drifts down into the water and over your clit.

Images of him with his vest on, his gun raised, his mouth moving as he talked had you squirming.

Then you remembered how good he always felt inside of you. How you’ve never cum so hard as when he fucked you. Ugh.

You become frustrated and stop rubbing yourself.

Fuck it.

You throw back another half glass of wine and pull on your pajamas. His room was three doors away. You would just march over there and antagonize him. Screw waiting for him to make a move. You were sick and tired of waiting for him to need you. It was your turn.

You knock lightly on his door so as not to alert the rest of the team in the other rooms. It takes a moment but he opens it after looking through the peephole.

“Hey,” he rubs his eyes.

He had been asleep, his hair tousled. He was wearing nothing but pajama pants and your eyes couldn’t help but trail to his stomach.

You place your hand on his chest and push him backwards as you step inside. Your eyes pinned on his. He immediately acquiesces to your command, especially when you push him against the wall and kiss him hard.

It’s clumsy, unpracticed. But you don’t care, you need him. His soft mouth melts and moves against yours until his hands trail up the small of your back.

“We really shouldn’t keep doing this,” he whispers but kisses you again.

“It’s so bad,” you agree.

It was bad, your addiction to one another.

“Mhmm,” he moans drunkenly as though intoxicated by you.

He lifts you up so your legs wrap around his waist, you slam your hand against the wall as you kiss him harder. Your tongues sliding together in teasingly slow motions. God he tasted so fucking good, you could devour him for an eternity.

You roll your hips against him where his erection is pressing into you and a sinful groan escapes him.

“You looked so fucking good today,” he praises as he carries you towards the bed. You’re licking and sucking at his neck, needing to taste him.

“You did too” you purr when he lays you flat on your back.

“How much did you drink?” He asks thoughtfully as he stands above you, taking you in.

“Just a couple of glasses of wine,” you wave your hand dismissively. You move your feet up his chest until they’re resting on his shoulders.

He abruptly grabs your ankles and drops your legs from him before walking out of view. You sit up, confused.

The he takes a seat in the chair behind the desk on the other side of the room. The desk has been covered in books and paperwork in the 10 days he’s occupied the room. It was so him that you grin.

“You came here because you wanted me,” he muses as he lifts his hips to pull down his pants. “Show me how bad you want me, pretty girl.”

He lounges back in the chair, his cock just out and ready for you. You bite your lip nervously but move over to him. He rolls the chair backward from the desk to ensure there’s plenty of room. He looks glorious bathed in the moonlight from the window.

You step out of your pajama shorts in straddle him, taking his face in your hands.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he pushes.

“I think I want you like this all of the time,” you whisper as you grind your wetness against his length.

He grips your hips as you begin to align yourself with the tip of his cock. You lower yourself down and he tries to slow you by digging his nails into your skin. He sucks air through his teeth and throws his head back as you take him completely.

“So tight,” he shudders. Then you rock your hips forward, your clit against him as his cock throbs inside of you.

You continue to roll your hips, keeping him as deep as possible as you find the exact rhythm you need.

You begin to move up and down his length and he groans when your grip his hair.

“Use me, make yourself cum,” he whimpers.

It’s a softer, needier side of him that you hadn’t seen before but you love it. So you do just that. You begin riding him and grinding down on him. Not caring necessarily about what feels good to him but about what feels good to you.

One of your hands trails down the column of his neck and you gently squeeze. His hands find your nipples and he squeezes them hard as he fights to keep quiet.

He’s a mess of groans and whimpers. You throw yourself forward and bite down on his shoulder as you fall into a desperate grind against him as you chase your orgasm.

You moan against his skin as you climax, your walls tightening around his cock in a way that has him squirming beneath you, one hand pulling at your hair while the other digs into your thigh.

“Fuck Spence,” you whisper and roll your head back.

You can feel your cum all over him and it feels so good as you continue to rock your hips back and forth.

“Hold on,” he says, his voice husky.

You do, you prop your hands on the chair behind him as he lifts your hips so you’re halfway up his length.

Then he starts thrusting up into you fast and hard until you’re biting your tongue to stifle your moans.

You have a hard time holding yourself up as he thrusts mercilessly into you, the sound of wet flesh slapping together filling the room. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold on as he pulls you closer. He doesn’t let up, his stamina unmatched as he pounds into you harder.

Your eyes roll back as you attempt to absorb the pleasure beating through you. He buries his head between your tits, his jagged breathing fanning against your skin. The two of you are absolutely lost in each other, unable to get enough. You’re moaning softly, trying to stay quiet when his nails dig into your back.

The sensation is enough to send you over the edge again.

“Baby, fuck baby,” he bites out as you orgasm over him again. He’d never called you that, it’s heady, it makes you smile.

His rhythm slows as you pull him to his climax until he’s cumming inside of you. You roll your hips down on him as he pumps his cum into you, knowing how good it must feel to be as deep as possible while he finished.

“Fuuuck,” he shudders.

His eyes are wide and his mouth is open as he watches you roll your hips the last few times, greedily taking all his cum.

Your eyes linger on each other as the moment softens. You lean in and kiss him, delighted when he kisses you back. It’s more passionate, less needy.

You pull away, not wanting to get lost in the labeling or feeling behind anything. You get off of him and hurry to the restroom where you start the shower. The mixture of both of your releases is running down your thighs and you need to focus on cleaning up rather than whatever you’re feeling.

Something like sadness washes over you, sadness that this can’t be more, that it isn’t more because he doesn’t want it to be.

You’re washing your hair when Spencer steps into the shower.

“Oh,” you startle.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

You nod, taking in his beautiful body as you pull him under the water.

You turn away from him and wash your face. That’s when he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you flush against him. You stare down at his forearms overlapping across your stomach. He fits against you so perfectly as you lean back into him. He sways gently but doesn’t speak. The intimacy of just holding you seems to be what he needs, it’s not a side of him you’ve seen very much.

“You want me like this always too?” He whispers.

It takes you off guard, the vulnerability in his voice. It’s as though he’s searching for some clue that he means more to you than you let on.

You turn in his arms and reach up to smooth back his wet curls.

“What if I do?” Your voice is hoarse.

“I don’t know how this can be more,” he shakes his head.

You got it, you understood how much it would complicate things. When emotions and favoritism came into play amongst coworkers it could be distracting.

“What do you want Spence?” You decide to be brave and ask him.

Your bodies are pressed together, the warm water trailing between you.

“I want…” he looks at you with what can only be described as puppy dog eyes. Some mixture of fear and sadness painting his beautiful features.

“Reid,” comes Hotch’s voice with a swift knock on the door.

He jumps back, his eyes wide.

“Shit,” you whisper.

Spencer rushes out of the shower as panic consumes you. Why would Hotch need to talk to Spencer at one in the morning!?

#mgg #spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg pics #dr reid #spencer reid one shots #spicy spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds family #criminal minds oneshot #matthew gray gubler

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

Note

Aali!!!! I was gonna put this in the tags of your training scenario but got shy :(

but i immediately thought of Gojo!! And like he's not surprised you flipped him over due to you're strength, he has no doubts about how strong you are but it's the fact that he trusts you so much he unconsciously turned off his infinity for you <3 so now he's like !!!!!! because what!!!! but also you're on top of him and you look so pretty so now he's short circuiting double the amount!!!!

Like !!!!!!!! my brain is going crazy thinking about it - 🍓

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. neither strong, nor weak - just in love.

about. combat training with gojo makes him realise just how strong you really are. inspired by this silly post i made yesterday, it wasn’t meant to become a whole thing but it did and now it’s…sad. im sorry. also pls don’t be shy ily :(

warnings. minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact. sfw, angst, mutual pining, slightly unrequited romance, mentions of violence (they’re combat training), death mention, canon!verse, gn!reader.

you’re pissed.

over the years satoru’s seen a colourful array of emotions splayed against your features. he’s seen joy, laughter, happiness — all of which are his favourites. he wishes he could have seen them more. but also sadness, anguish and a pain so deep he felt like he was dying right alongside you.

he’s died once before, nearly, but it never could have compared to the feeling he got when you looked at him with pure hatred. because gojo had been the one to hurt you, then.

you’ve never been one to hold grudges, you’re too good of a person for the world to hold anyone in such a negative light for way too long — but when you do experience these emotions, you feel them all too much and all too hard and everyone can see it too. maybe that’s why gojo picks up on your spike of anger so easily during training today, it could be the sick reason behind how much he’s enjoying you being pissed off too.

because you wear your heart on your sleeve and your emotions on your face, so gojo knows exactly how he makes you feel — all of the time. “c’mon sweetheart, don’t lose focus. don’t you wanna beat me?” he taunts you, a cocky smile stretched over his lips as he dodges each of your blows, though the shades over his eyes hide the admiration he has for you.

“fuck you.” you spit back harshly, as if the words scald your tongue. shifting your weight onto your back foot, you take a chance and swing your leg up high, just narrowly missing the silvery mop of satoru’s hair where his infinity goes up to protect him.

for gojo, it’s easy for things to lose their meaning, slipping away from him like fine grains of sand through his fingers. at times when he should, he finds himself without a care — it’s easier to walk through life not giving a shit than to tie emotions to actions, people and places. if the strongest cares too much then people have to die. that’s why the wielder of the six eyes holds you to such high regards. you’re strong because you’re able to care — no matter what’s in your path or who might stand in your way, and what they might make you feel, you are able to be strong for those in need.

you feel what satoru can’t.

“i’ve been waiting all day for that, honey.” he quips back, lifting his shades just a little to bare the full brunt of your aura through his technique. “c’mon, let’s put in a little more effort, shall we? if i were a curse, you’d be dead by now.”

everything gojo sees is magnified by one hundred, he could detect the smallest of changes no matter how close or far he was from you — and being able to witness frustration build up in your core along with stacks of your cursed energy elicits a pleasant reaction out of him. his head flops to the side, almost bored, despite how the corner of his lips quirk up into a lopsided grin. satoru loves how you’re just teeming with anger, from the top of your head right down to your toes — spreading into your fingertips as your cursed energy balls powerfully around your fist.

and even though he catches it between his larger hands, the thin invisible veil of his infinity quite literally stopping you from killing gojo — he can still feel that you’re pouring your all into this, into him. even though you’re tired and dripping with sweat while your muscles burn so hot you fear they might melt away, you’re still trying. you still won’t give up. you’re still stronger than he ever could be.

and he’s practically a god.

“you would be the dead one if you didn’t have the cheat code to life.” rolling your shoulders, you step back with a menacing snarl and start again — fists flying in the direction of the six eyes as you’re fuelled by the passion of taking him down. making him hurt. people like gojo piss you off, their existence serving as a reminder that your life is not promised and every step you take is a sacrifice to help them live on. though deep down, you know that you don’t hate him for it. it’s nothing that he could have helped.

once again, satoru snags your fist before it can even leave a mark on him and draws you in by his infinity. for a moment, you’re scared that he might use it to repel you, harm you — he catches the flicker of fear in your eyes before you steel your nerves and keep on fighting even as he grabs at your wrists, sweeps your feet out from underneath you and pins you to the hard ground below.

leaning over your frame as you squirm beneath him, gojo tuts down at you in faux disappointment. “so sad, and here i was, thinking that you were strong enough to beat me.” he says, cruelly. “give up already, princess.”

in response, you bare your fangs and dig your nails into his wrists — not letting up. “i’ll give up when you’ve killed me.”

that makes satoru falter.

it’s only training, really, it shouldn’t even be that serious. but his mind can’t shake the idea of one day sacrificing you for the good of others. for everyone satoru gojo has ever cared about, there has been a day where he has to choose between letting them meet their end and protecting the jujutsu world. that’s the way it’s always been and always will be. it’s not that he thinks you’re weak, that you can’t handle yourself — you’ve proven yourself capable of that time and time again. you’re strong, physically and resilient in your emotions, mentally but you’re only human.

and humans don’t last as long as gods do.

seizing the opportunity at hand, you squeeze your thighs around satoru’s slender waist to switch your situation and rip your wrists free from his steady iron grip. so now, your positions are reversed, and he’s the one with his arms above his head — exposing all of his vulnerable vital organs. he could have easily kept himself in control and have you squirming below him for hours, but he lets you. he trusts you enough to let you prove yourself to him — just so he can have that moment, that lets you know that the great satoru gojo is not immune to the likes of you.

he is weak for you.

his infinity slips away unconsciously just as his back his the the floor with a dull thud — wisps of his snow white hair flying about the place with the motion. satoru lays still beneath you, unmoving like a tree rooted to its spot, and peers up at you through the thickness of his lashes. he watches how you try to control your surprise and how shocked you are at yourself for pinning him down — truth being told that if he didn’t have infinity to hide behind, if he was human, you probably would have been able to from the start.

“think again,” you breathe, the dip in your voice doing nothing to help satoru’s crazed mind and how insane he is for you. “princess.”

you’re so pretty like this. your eyes are frenzied and and astonished, your chest heaves with every breath you take in desperation to fill your lungs with air and your skin shines with light perspiration from your training. and even then, to satoru, you’re the most precious form of life he’s ever seen. a rarity amongst unpolished gems. every emotion you have right now is laid bare against your features, coursing through your veins and it’s because of him.

it’s nice like this, to feel weak in the knees and in the heart for someone. to be able to feel your pulse rather than see it as nothing but a flicker of a blue flame with blue eyes.

he wants to touch you, subconsciously reaching out to brush a thumb over your cheek. “you’re so beautiful.” satoru whispers, his voice low and uneven — causing goosebumps to rise over the expanse of your skin and a soft gasp to lay wet on your lips.

exasperated tears begin to well up in your eyes, sitting pretty in your lower lash line. you’re so angry at gojo and how you think he sees you but you don’t dare to push his hand away, instead turning your head to look elsewhere. you don’t want him to see you cry.

“turn your infinity back on. i could kill you.”

“you’re beautiful,” satoru repeats adamantly, not caring if he sounds like a broken record. “you’re strong. stronger than me.” you’re pissed at him too , for looking down at you. for all the things he’s said that hurt you without meaning to. your grip on his wrists loosen along with your hold on your emotions. “i wish i could be weak enough to love you.”

“i said turn it back on, gojo.”

“look at me, please.”

“gojo.”

“please.”

your shoulders sag with a shaky exhale, all of the fight you had leaving you as you sit on top of him — looking down at him. “what?” comes your quiet mumble, not daring to flinch away as his thumb traces over your bottom lip without the gentle hum of his infinity.

“i love you.”

if you were at any other point in time, satoru’s words would have had you melting over him like butter in a pan. you would have been weak enough to say it back and let him overwhelm you with longing. because if this were any other point in time, you would have needed satoru gojo like you needed air to breathe. like you needed him to live.

but things are different now, there’s a concrete wall built around your heart to fortify it and you’ve grown to become immune to him. like gojo says, you are strong and while you know that you always have been — hearing him admit that makes you realise you don’t want to prove your worth to him anymore.

you would much rather have him kill you instead.

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