#but even outside of that. it never resolved anything because he was still acting the same

[tsubasaclones]

when I'm in a "not resolving plotlines" competition and my opponent is clear card

[maxillness]

Head Over Heels || MV33 x Driver!Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, slow burn, (five years) age gap, Lewis likes reader (if you squint), (hint of) Lestappen, (slight) jealous!Max, masturbation (f), fingering, sub!Max, (a lot of) marking up, oral (m), possessive!reader, praise kink

Wordcount: 4.2k

Based on this

Very proud of this 💪

Ever since she had signed with Mercedes, she had had a rivalry with Verstappen

It wasn’t one she initiated. She just wanted to be his friend, just like she was with the rest of the grid

She never understood why he hated her so much. He wouldn’t even look at her unless it was absolutely necessary

I would be fine if he kept it outside of the track, but he had a bad habit to take it with him onto the track, almost always resulting in some kind of damage

This weekend, she and Max had crashed, resulting in both of them in a dnf and a red flag

“What the fuck happened out there?” Toto asked in the debrief after the race. He was obviously mad

“Why are you asking me? It clear it was his fault” She said calmly, trying to distract from her anger

“You two have a rivalry you need to resolve” He stared he deep into her eyes

“This is a one sided rivalry. I have nothing against Verstappen, he’s the one who have an issue” She explained, leaning back into her chair

“I don’t care if it’s hatred, one sided, neglected feelings, or whatever, you need to fix it” She hated when he talked with his hands

She had agreed to talk to him, so that’s how she ended up in his drivers room, sitting on his couch while he stood up

“What’s your problem with me?” She asked calmly, not raising her voice

“You’re a know it all” He shrugged, natural facial expression

“Know it all? What’s that supposed to mean?” She stood up, not being eye to eye, but she took a step closer to him

“You got signed to Mercedes straight out of f2, you think you’re somebody when in reality you’re just like everybody else on the grid” He explained, crossing his arms over his chest

“Think I’m somebody? I know I’m no one. You’re making stuff up to have a reason to hate me” She rose her voice, startling the man in front of her

“You hate me too, let’s not forget that” His voice rose as well, matching her

“I don’t hate you. I only ever wanted to be your friend, just like I am to the rest of the grid” Her chest rose up and down with her heavy breathing

“I have no reason to hate you, but maybe I do now” He swallowed the lump in his throat, but she spoke up again before he could “This was a bad idea”

She pushed past him, opening the door but turned around before she walked out “This is something you need to fix, Verstappen” She closed the door behind her

“Did you fix anything?” Lewis asked as they sat in one of their hotel rooms, sharing a bottle of wine

“Nope” She said before taking a sip “But I know why he hates me” She chuckled slightly

“Why?” He asked with knitted eyebrows

“He thinks I’m a know it all because I signed with Mercedes straight out of f2” She explained, looking with soft eyes at her teammate

“Didn’t he sign with Toro Rosso out of f3?” He asked, sipping on his wine

“Yeah, he did” They chuckled both in sync, feeling the alcohol in their blood

“I told him this is something he needs to fix. Don’t think he liked that” There was a little silence between them, but it was comforting

“Thanks for this talk, Lewis” She smiled

“Of course” She felt his warm hand wrap around hers that were laid in her lap “Every time you need it” He smiled

The talk she had with Max must’ve worked, because he didn’t crash into her, or actually talk to her at all up until the drivers parade

“I’m sorry because I rose my voice at you” He said, standing beside her

“It’s fine. I’m sorry too” She said, turning her head to look up at him

“I’ll try to be better, I promise” He said, not making eye contact with her

He spoke the truth, because for the first time, they both finished a race and got podium

He was still acting arrogant. Still wouldn’t look at her, but he kept it outside of the track from now on

He didn’t even want to congratulate her on her podium the next race, didn’t spray champagne on her, only Charles

I mean, they were best friends, but Charles sprayed on her, why couldn’t Max?

They were at a local club celebrating the podium winners

She saw Charles and Max sitting by each other, drowning down shots and other drinks. She walked pass them, going for Lewis sitting in a booth, but Charles stopped her

“Hey, winner. Wanna join us?” He asked, green eyes soft and innocent, almost like he knew nothing of her and Max’ rivalry

She hesitated for a moment, debating if it was worth it “Sure” She sat down beside Charles, opposite to Max

“Here” He handed her a shot as well as one over to Max

They all took the shot in sync, placing the glass upside down on the table, making a slight face at the feeling of the burn down her throat

“What are you drinking?” Charles asked, noticing the half full glass she brought with her

“Rom and Cola” She answered “What about y’all?” She noticed the ray of empty glasses on their table

“Little bit of everything” Charles chuckled “I’m gonna go up and order more shots and drinks” He stood up and walked towards the bar

There was a silence between them. A rather awkward one

“Congratulations” Max said, not looking up at her “You did good”

“Thank you. You did good too” She said softly, but it was loud enough to hear over the music

“What do you do outside of racing?” She was taken aback from his question

Never in the two years of them racing together did he ever ask about her personal life. Never wanted to learn anything about her

“Not much. I like reading, baking… Swimming too” She said, his eyes still not meeting hers “What do you do?”

The first time his eyes had met hers. It wasn’t soft expression in his eyes like when he looked at Charles. They were filled with fear

He was about to speak, but Charles had come over with a tray filled with shots and their various drinks

They didn’t speak to each other after that

It was two months after she spoke to him alone again. It was the winter break, and she was home in Monaco

She entered the small Café near her apartment. She ordered her usual, and waiting for it to be ready

She looked up from her phone for a second, but it was enough for her to notice Max sitting alone in the corner

“Can I sit?” She looked down at him. He didn’t look up at her but recognised her voice immediately

“Sure” He nodded slightly, watching her body out of the corner of his eyes

“How’s your break been so far?” She asked, popping the lid of her hot beverage off so she could take a sip

“Fine” He said, swallowing the lump in his throat so he could speak proper “You?”

“It’s been fine so far. Spend some time with Lewis” The way his fits curled harshly into each other didn’t go unnoticed by her

“I’m sorry. I need to go” He stood abruptly up, taking his beverage with him

She noticed the napkin he left. It had been drawn on. She took it closer. It was phone number. His phone number

She smiled slightly to herself as she folded it a put it in her pocket, leaning back into her chair

Hey. You left your number

She got home and was laid on her bed. Soft comforter tangling her body. The sound of the tv low in the background

Yeah, I just realised I have the other drivers numbers and not yours

She chuckled at his statement

You could just had told me it, Y’know?

And actually speak to you? I don’t think so

She laughed louder than she wanted to. Hiding the way she actually enjoyed speaking to him

Goodnight, Verstappen

Goodnight, Y/L/N

They kept talking over the phone the next few weeks. Texting all most every day. Never missing a ‘good morning’ or a ‘good night’

Wanna meet up for dinner?

It came out of the blue, so she was taken slightly aback

Are you asking me out, Max?

She smiled as she wrote it out, hoping he would say yes. Wanting to be close to him

What? No, of course not. Just as friends, Y’know?

Oh. Yeah, of course. When?

She felt the bottom of her stomach drop

Is tonight good or do you have other plans?

Tonight’s good. Are you gonna pick me up, or am I gonna meet you there?

I’ll pick you up at 6. Okay?

Yeah, that’s good. See you

She called Lewis immediately. Her hands shaking as she bit her nails

”Hey, Y/N. What’s up?” His voice was slightly raspy

“If you’re going out with a friend, who said it’s only a dinner between friends, but you have bigger feelings for him, what would you wear?” She rambled. She usually did that when she was nervous

”You’re… Going out with somebody? You have a crush?” He sounded hurt

“Yeah. Both, I think. I’m not quite sure I have a crush on him, I just know… I don’t know what I think. Will you help me?” She asked, wanting him to help her so badly

”Do you have a shirt that shows off your boobs but doesn’t show too much skin?”

She had texted him her address. He had texted her that she was there. She got the last of her things. Keys, phone, put her jacket on before she walked out

As she walked out, his eyes were scanning her body. Her clothes fit her perfectly, showing off her curves

“You look good” He said as she walked closer to him

“Thank you. Lewis helped me pick it out” She said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear

“Lewis?” Something changed in his eyes as she said her words

“Mhm. I always liked his clothing style” His jaw clenched as he opened the car door for her “Thank you”

They both had a lovely time at the restaurant. They shared a bottle of wine with their dinner and had dessert as well

“I really had a good time today” He said, following her up to her apartment complex’ front door

“Me too. Nice finally talking to you” She chuckled as she spoke, earning one from him too

“Yeah…” He said low, fading out at the end, getting lost in the colour of her eyes “I should probably go”

“Yeah- yeah. Of course. It’s late” She spoke, and he turned around and walked back to his car

She sighed as she realised how dumb she was. She had fallen head over heels in love with him over the winter break, and she didn’t act upon it

She should’ve asked him to come in. Share another bottle. Have him an excuse to stay the night. Getting him too drunk to drive

She walked into her apartment. Throwing all her stuff away before changing into some pj’s, getting comfortable under her comforter

She turned on the tv, but her mind was racing, yet the only thing that was displaying was Max

The way he looked today was beyond what he’s ever looked like

He looked so fucking good. Biceps flexing under his shirt, his hair soft, his hands looking good as well

The thoughts took over her mind, so much she didn’t even notice til it was too late that her fingers had slipped pass the waistband of her shorts

She had pushed her panties to the side, drawing her fingers through her folds, moaning as she rested at her clit

She circled it softly, pulling out whimpers from her, the images of Max still flowing in her mind

Her fingers entered her as the thoughts of him naked started filling her head. Her other hand grabbed the sheets as she started pumping herself

She started imagining his naked body pressed up against hers. His cock buried inside of her. His cum filling her up as she was shaking rapidly around him

Her fingers started curling, hitting her spongy walls, drawing her closer to her orgasm

Loud moans were spilling from her throat. Her hips grinding down on her fingers, trying to reach that one perfect spot inside her she never managed to reach herself

Before she even got close to finding the spot, she clenched rapidly around herself, her thighs shaking at the images of Max’ sweaty body laying on top of her

The next time she saw him was a Bahrain pre-testing. They had both been busy ever since their dinner, and she was also too afraid to look him into the eyes after that night

It was the last day of testing. She stood outside of the Mercedes Motorhome, talking with Lewis, laughing

She was so caught up with their conversation, that she hadn’t noticed Max waking over to them

“Hey. Good finally seeing you” He was right. They hadn’t had the chance to speak to each other before now

“Yeah, you too. How’s it going?” She asked, a small smile splaying on her lips

“Not too bad” He said “I gotta go” In the time he spoke to her, he never paired attention to Lewis

“You okay, Lewis?” She saw his brown eyes darkening, and the hatred in his clenched jaw

“I’m fine” He nodded and continued the conversation

During the next week, she had noticed Lewis touching her more and making her laugh more. She had also noticed it was whenever Max was in the room

She was standing with a few other drivers when Max walked over to her. His actions didn’t go unnoticed by Lewis who stepped closer to her

“Hey, Y/N. I need to talk to you about something. Would you care to go out later?” He asked, reviving stares by the other drivers

“Sure. Yeah” She nodded slightly

“Good. I’ll pick you up at 6” He said shortly before leaving

“Is there something between the two of you?” Charles asked with knitted eyebrows

“What? No. He’s just being friendly. We’ve gone out before. It’s just a friend date, Y’know?” She explained. Lewis did not like that, and it was obvious

They were almost done with their food, and he hadn’t said anything other than ‘you look stunning’ ‘what’d you want?’ and talked to the waiter

“Max” She put her fork down, her voice making him look up at her “We’re almost at desert and you haven’t said shit. What do you want to talk about?”

He swallowed at lump in his throat before he spoke “I don’t want this to come off the wrong way, but…” He paused “I like you- scratch that. I love you. I’m head over heels for you, I have been ever since the day in the Café, I was just scared to say anything”

“Why were you scared?” He hadn’t expected her to answer that way

“Because of Lewis. The way he always looks at you, the way he always touches you, the way he looks at me. I was afraid there would be anything between you two and I would ruin it”

“There’s nothing between me and Lewis, I promise you that” She put her hand over his, feeling his soft skin beneath hers ”And to answer you, I’m head over heels for you too, Y’know”

Her confession and the way her hand felt on his made him see her way different. She had leaned over the table as he did, getting closer to him

He turned his hand that was under hers, making them hold hands instead. His lips was quickly on hers in a soft kiss

Her other hand came up and was softly placed on his jaw with a feather like touch as she kissed back

“I wanna skip dessert” She spoke softly as he eyes opened slightly, looking into his blown eyes

“Yeah” He nodded, getting the waiter over to pay for the food and their drinks

The ride back to the hotel was tortures for him. Her hand laid on the top of his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch

If they weren’t in the car and on the open road, he would’ve taken her right then and there

Her finger ghosted over his crotch, making him whimper and his cock twitch in his pants

“Don’t” He squirmed in his seat when she did it again, but doing it longer

“Why? You obviously like it” She did it again, but further down over the head of his cock, drawing whimpers out of him

“Afraid you’ll come in your pants like a highschooler?” She said with a smirk on her lips, watching the blush on his cheeks get a deeper shade of red

“Mhm” He nodded, barely fixating on the road as he was getting harder under her touch

“Good thing we’re there soon, no?” She said, taking her hand away from his thigh, drawing a whine from him at loss of contact

Kisses lingered on the skin of her neck as she fumbled to get her keycard out. His hands was placed on her waist, holding her tightly

She had barely gotten the door closed before she was pressed up against it, lips slotted in between his

Her hands were placed on his jaw, pulling him closer. His own hands were traveling up under her shirt

She pushed his hands away, using his surprised figure to turn them around, his back now against the door

Her lips traveled to his neck, placing soft kisses before she started sucking, drawing out whimpers from him

“Please” He bucked his hips into hers, trying to get some kind of friction as her tongue soothed over the marks she had made

Her hands went to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head as he lifted up his arms

Her lips sucked down his skin as she went to her knees and her hands landed on his belt

She started sucking on his skin above his waistband as her hands fiddled with his belt, getting it unbuckled

“You do love marking up, hm?” He chuckled, looking down at her as she pulled down his pants

“Wanna make sure people know you’re mine, no?” She smiled watching the way his body squirmed at her words

She sucked on his hip bone as she pulled down his boxers, letting his cock slap against his lower abdomen

If she wasn’t so caught up in the moment, she would’ve sat back to admire him like this, all naked and flustered. A deep blush spread all over his body

Her nails dug into the skin on his hips as her tongue darted out to lick at head of his cock, licking off al the pre-cum

“Fuck” His breath stuttered as he held onto her shoulders “Please” His head was thrown back and his eyes shut as her tongue started swirling around his tip

“Please, baby. I-I need you, please” He bucked his hips into her mouth, but she pulled back slightly “Please”

She gave in and swallowed him whole, gagging slightly as he hit the back of her throat, sending vibrations through his cock, making him moan

She started bopping her head, setting a pace that worked for both of them. Her tongue dragged up his vein, pulling him closer to his orgasm

“Yes- fuck. Please- Ah. So good” He started bucking his hips into her mouth, meeting her half way

“Yes, yes- fuck, please. ‘M close. So close” His loud moans filled the room, maybe even a few next door

His thighs began to shake and his hands trembled as they ran through her hair. He came down her throat with no warning

His whole body shook at the force of his orgasm. His hips kept still as he held her down onto his cock

She popped off him, a trail of saliva connecting his cock and her mouth. She swallowed before wiping her mouth and standing up

She kissed him soft, spitting praises at him as he held her waist close to him

“Please, I need more” He mumbled against her lips “More, please”

“You want more, baby?” She asked teasingly. His only response was to nod “Get on the bed for me”

He got out of his pants and boxers as well as his shoes and socks before he laid down with his back against the bed

She slowly started walking over to him, taking her clothes off a piece at a time

In the meantime, he had propped his body up to rest on his elbows, eyes scanning her body, slowly starting to get hard again

She got on the bed, capturing his hips in between her knees. She put her hands on his chest, pushing him down to lay

His breath got heavy and quick as her hands slid up his arms, positioning them above his head, holding them still with one of her hands while the other was on his jaw, forcing him to look one way as her lips went to his jaw

She started sucking from the joint where his jaw was connected and all the way over to where her hand was placed

“They- They’re gonna see” He bucked his hips up to try and get some friction, but were unsuccessful

“That’s the plan, darling” She turned his head, doing the same on the other side

He was trying to get out of his grip, but his hands were shaken too much, and the added force by her hand and nails digging into his skin made it hard

“Lay still, baby” His whimpered at the feeling of her tongue dragging over the marks she had left on his skin

“Please. It’s race day tomorrow. The interviews- It’s gonna be all over the internet” His eyes were closed as he tried so hard to lay still

“Better leave more then, no?” She smiled against the skin of his Adam’s apple, feeling it bop as he whimpered

“Please, please. I need to be inside you, please” Tears were starting to swell in the corners of his closed eyes

“Mhm. I know, and you deserve it. You’ve been such a good boy” She leaned back, looking at his flushed face where he had managed to open his eyes

She loosened her grip around his wrists, pulling them close to her mouth, kissing over the marks her nails had left

She made soft eye contact with his glossy eyes as she kissed over every mark on his wrists

She let go of them, and he placed them softly on her waist. She took his cock into her hand, chuckling as he closed his eyes again and whimpered

She lined him up with her entrance, both moaning as she slowly slid down on him, staying still as she got all the way down

His hands were grabbing tightly at her skin, his back arching off of the bed. She ghosted her nails over the skin of his chest, soothing him as she adjusted to his size

He started moaning loud as she started moving, going up and down on him, pulling moans out from herself

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, baby” She praised him, starting to roll her hips “Looking so fucking good like this”

She already started to feel him twitch inside her as her words slipped out. It only encouraged her to go faster

One of her hands came down to her clit, circling it as she started clenching around him, pulling him closer to his orgasm

“Fuck- baby, please. ‘M so close. Please, feels s’ good” His words were slurred, coming closer to the edge

He had a hard time laying still, letting her take the control as his thighs shook rapidly

“Fuck, you gonna come for me, darling? Gonna come in me? Make my walls white?” He nodded as best as he could, a few tears slipping down his cheeks

“Come for me, baby” She leaned down, capturing his lips before leaning back again and watched his face as he came inside her

The filling of him filling her up with his cum sent her over the edge, coming with his name rolling off her tongue, chest heaving as she did

She slid off of him, laying down beside him, laying on her side, propping her head up with her hand

“We should shower, Y’know” Her fingers circled some of the marks she had left, and would be even more visible tomorrow

“I just wanna lay with you” His voice was low as he scooted closer to her

“We’ll shower in the morning then” She said, spooning him from behind, her hand laying on his waist, soothing him

She whispered small praises and sweet nothings as he fell asleep. She kissed the top of his head in his sweat damp hair, laying herself down to try and fall asleep

[kiwi-bitchez]

Double Down, Triple Threat 

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension. 

Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending. 

Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.

Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I

"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.

"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics. 

"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways. 

"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."

"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."

"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something." 

Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order. 

Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret. 

"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."

"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on. 

If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that. 

He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."

"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were. 

Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers. 

But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar. 

Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well. 

"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."

"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."

"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'

"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"

"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig. 

"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."

"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."

"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."

"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him. 

He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface. 

"What's your drink?" he asks.

"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer. 

"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him. 

You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.

"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."

"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.

"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."

"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."

He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.

As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."

You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."

Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. 

"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull. 

"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"

"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."

"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt. 

"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards. 

You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night. 

You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot. 

"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."

"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."

"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."

"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive. 

"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot. 

"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."

"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something." 

With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road. 

Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt. 

You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong. 

Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk. 

It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one. 

You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood. 

Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper. 

Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful. 

You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door. 

"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?" 

"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks. 

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go." 

You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step. 

"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."

"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking. 

"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live." 

He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."

"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies. 

"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.

"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?" 

He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought. 

The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat. 

"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here." 

"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.

"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."

"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."

"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."

You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.

"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights. 

"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."

"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."

"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought. 

You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?" 

"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar. 

You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."

"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward. 

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."

"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on. 

You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."

He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped. 

The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close. 

After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy. 

"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat. 

You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.” 

He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside. 

Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now. 

Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane. 

He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.

"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.

"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"

He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this. 

"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.

"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond. 

"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. 

This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say. 

Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well. 

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile. 

"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago. 

"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips. 

It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window. 

After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form. 

When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much. 

He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?

In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue. 

So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.  

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”

“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.

“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”

“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner. 

You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise. 

He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be. 

“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.” 

With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath. 

It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch. 

He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief. 

His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow. 

“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.

Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind. 

He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there. 

“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.

He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing. 

Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights. 

The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.

Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow. 

“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.” 

He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel. 

Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale. 

“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”

After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request. 

Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?

Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. 

You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes. 

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”

And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did. 

Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it. 

After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off. 

Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. 

“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.

You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”

“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”

“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.

“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.  

You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances. 

“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over. 

“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”

There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were. 

“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…” 

He understood, he hated how much he understood. 

“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him. 

“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”

“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”

“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”

“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’

He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run. 

You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat. 

“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive. 

He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt. 

A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails. 

The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers. 

You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed. 

You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point. 

He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction. 

“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”

“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale. 

“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.

“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.

“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”

You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot. 

“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice. 

“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”

He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip. 

He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.

He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction. 

When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?” 

A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill. 

The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away. 

“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“

He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands. 

“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.

“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth. 

“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”

With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom. 

“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”

“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”

You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on. 

“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.

“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself. 

You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark. 

He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked. 

“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you. 

“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious. 

“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present. 

“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed. 

“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”

You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream. 

“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”

You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go. 

You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around. 

“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”

It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin. 

“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”

“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“

“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.

He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways? 

As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away. 

“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back. 

He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel. 

“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging. 

You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.” 

As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.” 

His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.

Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most. 

Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs. 

He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way. 

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you. 

When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.

You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”

He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and  plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time. 

“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?” 

The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.

“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him. 

“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand. 

He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary. 

As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else. 

Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”

Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes. 

He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch. 

He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”

Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top? 

“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck. 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“

“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”

Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching. 

It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name  mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment. 

“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”

Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point. 

Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.

The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end. 

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold. 

His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean. 

“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”

You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two. 

You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his. 

He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could. 

“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”

“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”

Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen. 

After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong. 

“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep. 

An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you. 

You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months. 

A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control. 

“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed. 

A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze. 

You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue. 

You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true. 

Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.

“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper. 

“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment. 

“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”

“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”

“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”

“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”

“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”

“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.

“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.

“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall. 

“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl. 

“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”

“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”

“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time. 

“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over. 

“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was. 

“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”

“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.

“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”

Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear. 

“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”

“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”

His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.” 

“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this. 

“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.” 

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.

Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips. 

“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.

“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”

“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”

“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”

“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself  on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”

He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you. 

Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom. 

As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips. 

“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.

“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”

“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom. 

“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets. 

“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”

“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you. 

“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”

As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed. 

He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away. 

You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself. 

After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.

“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.

“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect. 

“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.

“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”

“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck. 

“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.” 

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body. 

“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.

You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long. 

“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.

“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs. 

You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.

A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”

You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”

He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up. 

You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.

You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. 

“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.” 

His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away. 

“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.” 

You nod with a “Please.”

“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”

He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.

“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”

With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit. 

He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred. 

“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.” 

You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask. 

You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest. 

The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.

You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip. 

“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle. 

“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?” 

The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other. 

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”

He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you. 

Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning. 

“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”

Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone. 

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest. 

He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit. 

“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.

“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”

You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand. 

“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”

He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time. 

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment. 

You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare. 

You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening. 

Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.

“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”

He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more. 

He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more. 

Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time. 

He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go. 

You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you. 

“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time. 

He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state. 

You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you. 

“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you. 

“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could. 

Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all. 

His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more. 

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.

He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.

“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now. 

He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him. 

Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter. 

Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue. 

You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”

Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.

Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you. 

Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you. 

“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts. 

“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”

“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future. 

“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”

Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page. 

Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock. 

“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips. 

“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”

He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“

He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake. 

“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t  have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his. 

“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”

You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours. 

“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses. 

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.” 

Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.

He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center. 

He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.

Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you. 

More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”

How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name. 

“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.

“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“

“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release. 

Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements. 

“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm. 

It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name. 

It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.

“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van. 

You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets. 

He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.

“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”

He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss. 

“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”

Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all. 

“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice. 

“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come. 

A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Bratty!Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Tired of your antics regarding how cavalier you take your sexual relationship, your lieutenant cuts you off and that has you immediately plotting. You know you can get him to break and all it'll take is one purchase. How can he keep his resolve when he sees what you've bought? And how will he act when he catches you?

Word Count: 6.8 k

Warnings:

The office is silent now except for the distant sounds of movement filtering in from outside the door of people coming and going through the building. Your shirt clings in a rumpled mess to your body, sweat speckling across your limbs from that specific heat that gets shared between two bodies, euphoria still running through your veins when the man sitting beneath you speaks. “We’re not doin’ this again, so get that straight. Understand?”

You tilt your head to the side and raise a curious eyebrow, staring back into the face of your lieutenant as he gets you to your feet and grabs his shirt to throw it back over his head, covering his sweat-glistening torso. “Care to explain what you’re talking about or am I meant to just guess?” you ask with snark in your tone as you pick up the rest of your clothing off the floor.

Buttoning his pants and re-buckling his belt, he takes his time before answering as you finish and stand there impatient and agitated. “What the fuck did I say about startin’ stuff with me when I’m busy?” Lt. Riley questions back, his voice harsh. “Did ya think I was jokin’ or are ya just hell bent on gettin’ caught? Cause that’s what’s gonna fuckin’ happen if ya keep temptin’ me in the middle of the day.”

“You could turn me away,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “ever heard of self-control?”

Stepping up close to your body, the lieutenant grabs you by the chin and looks down his nose at you. “You’re too much of a distraction. And ya need to be taught a lesson, sweetheart; when I say somethin’ I fuckin’ mean it. Consider this my self-control.” 

“Oh, gonna punish me now?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you pull your face out of his grasp with a flick of your head. “Okay, go ahead. Let’s see what you got.”

“Ya ain’t gettin’ nothin’ from me til I can be sure you’re gonna listen. You’re cut off, sweetheart, and until ya can learn, we’re done with this.” 

You hold his gaze steadfast, not intimidated in the least. If he wants to play this game, then you’ll play it, but if he thinks this is going to end the way he wants, he is going to be sorely mistaken. “Fine.” You don’t argue, there is no sense to. “Have it your way, sir. Is that all?”

You’ll have it your way soon enough. All it’ll take is patience.

He doesn’t say anything, opting to sit back in the chair behind his desk without uttering another word. It is a gross miscalculation on Lt. Riley’s part not to immediately take your acceptance if his reprimand as a giant red flag, but if he isn’t willing to put his knowledge of your competitive temperament to use then that is fully on him; he is a big boy and since he wants to talk about consequences, then he should be ready to receive his own.

You double check yourself in silence before you leave his office with a smug sense of satisfaction, though a plan isn’t in mind just yet. It doesn’t matter really, the bigger they are the harder they fall and you are confident that you can make him fold with very little effort because despite being a man of mostly mystery, you know the intimate details of what makes that 6’4” military officer weak. 

The day isn’t even over before you already have a plan in mind and it all involves one very specific item. It’s a shame you have to order it, but the time it’ll take to come in the post will work in your favor. Lt. Riley needs time to cool off, to miss his pretty thing, to let his appetite for you get ravenous again.

Patience was never your virtue unless it came to getting something you wanted, so you bore your restlessness in silence as you waited for your order to come in. You give the lieutenant his space without a fuss, letting him believe his little delusion that at any moment you’ll come crawling back ready to obey him just as he wants.

A week passes and then nearly another when finally you are gifted with your prize that comes in the evening mail that Friday. You can taste the sweetness of your retribution already as you rip into the package and pull out the smallest, tightest pair of jet black hot pants with white trim. No more keeping this body for his eyes only; if he doesn’t want to give you the attention you desire then someone else will. 

You rush to your barracks the second the day comes to a close with your package in hand; you have only a short window of time to pull your entire plan together or you’ll be forced to wait till after the weekend and you are tired of waiting. Tonight is the night that you make your lieutenant come crawling back to you and stop with this nonsense.   

The tiny swath of fabric covering your ass barely hides a damned thing from view, hugging around your hips like they are painted on and resting at the very top of your thighs so that the underside of your butt peeks out from below the hem. There is a slit that goes up the side and it is doing its job in making your legs look extra long while also showing as much skin as possible. It leaves almost nothing to the imagination for anyone who happens to look your way… and boy do you want as many eyes on you as you can get.

Let’s see him be steadfast in his resolve to teach you a lesson now.

With a head full of devious thoughts, you leave your room and head out onto base and into the oncoming night. Shoulders back and head held high you walk past the buildings with confidence on the way to your first stop of the night: the officers building. You had checked the clock just before you left, it’s nearly time now. He’ll be leaving his office soon and you need him to catch sight of you on the way to your second destination: the rec center.

How lucky it is that the lieutenant is a man of routine and so giving it another minute or two you step out in front of the building and start heading directly for the rec, though at a slower pace than usual. And sure enough, when you’re still within eyeshot, you hear the front door to the building open. 

Stepping out into the cooler evening air, Lt. Riley looks up and his sight is captured by a figure moving just up ahead in the distance. People coming and going isn’t abnormal on a military base, but what really catches his attention is the familiarity of the body and the way that body is dressed. He is stunned in his tracks because you are barely wearing anything at all with shorts that look like they’ve been painted on. Paired with the tight black tank top you’ve chosen and you might as well be naked for all the covering it does. After a good almost two weeks of no action, the man is starved…but also curious as to where the fuck you are going dressed like this. 

The best thing would have been for the lieutenant to turn tail and walk away, leave it and you alone, but as smart as Lt. Riley is when it comes to temptation the man is a goddamn fool that cannot help himself.

You are a good bit ahead by the time he takes action and decides to follow you, but he keeps the pace as heat floods his body from staring at the back of you walking away, desperately wanting to take a bite out of all that juicy meat tempting his gaze as it bounces with each sure-footed step you take. Fuck, he is a sucker for all the plump, tender parts of your body and having them on display like this is a regular buffet that he can’t help but soak up even with his nosiness into what exactly has you looking so killer. 

Those auburn eyes of his continue to follow you as you come to the front of a building and enter. Now that you are out of view, he can think more clearly and he realizes that it’s the rec center that you’ve just entered. The closer the lieutenant gets, the more he catches raucous sounds of many voices braying like a pack of crazed hounds, making him quicken his steps that match his rising blood pressure until he stands just outside the doors to peer in without being detected yet.

Through the glass doors he can see towards the back of the main room that a group of privates surrounding the single government bought pool table with cues in hand are now circling you like wolves circling a wounded deer, practically begging you to join them for a few games while he knows that its only to get you to stay longer so that they can enjoy the view. It makes his blood boil to watch them ogle you like that, getting far too close to what isn’t theirs. 

…to what belongs to him.

Standing in silence, now cloaked in darkness as night has fallen, he watches angrily as a private gets bold enough to place his hand at the small of your back just as you lean over the table to make your first shot and suddenly he is seeing red. He can barely comprehend anything through the angry haze clouding his vision, but he can feel the cold steel of the door handle in his hand as he wrenches it open and stalks inside as if he is ready to kill.   

All eyes immediately drift towards the source of the sound. You look up through a giggle to see the form of the lieutenant standing there, sharp gaze boring straight into you specifically and the man who still has his hand on you. 

“What’s goin’ on ‘ere,” that deep voice booms through the small space to quiet the rowdy bunch.

“Is there a problem, sir?” one of the more brave privates speaks up.

His sight doesn’t leave you. “Seems we need to have a chat about propriety,” he growls. “This is a military base, not a fuckin’ strip club.” 

You smirk. “I don’t know what kind of strip clubs you frequent, sir, but I can assure you that this is more clothing than most will allow.”

A few of the privates snicker behind you, impressed with your audacity to backtalk someone as imposing as the skull-masked officer and that does nothing but add fuel to the fire.

“Come with me- now.” His voice is firm. 

A collective “ooooh” passes around the bunch that is quickly quelled with one harsh glare. “If I were ya I would get back to my fuckin’ game,” Lt. Riley barks. “Or would you lot rather be placed on permanent fire guard to drive the goddamn point home, since ya want to meddle in an officer’s business?”

His command is absolute and none of the privates have the balls enough to question it. Quickly they scramble back to their game, keeping their heads down and eyes locked to the table. Whatever trouble you are about to get in is none of their concern, not when being reprimanded by the imposing lieutenant is on the line.

Satisfied, those amber eyes snap right back to you. “Move, now,” he demands and points towards an area of the rec that is blocked off by a wall, essentially cutting the room in two and will give enough privacy that the others inside won’t be able to witness what is about to transpire. 

“Of course, sir,” you say in agreement without a syllable of dissention. 

Turning on your heels you take off in the direction pointed out to you, walking ahead of the masked officer eagerly. He’s mad; there is no need to turn around, you can feel his glare on you the entire walk over and it makes you smile. You’ve hit the nerve you had hoped to. Now to bring it all home and get your lover back the way you want. 

As soon as you make it behind the cover of the corner his hand is on your waist as he shoves you into the wall with brute force. Your back hits it and you let out a surprised gasp. He stands towering over top of you, a powerfully intimidating figure with a massive presence to match as he glares you down with fire in his gaze. 

“Can I fucking help you?” you ask as you quickly regain your composure.

Christ, when you want to get his attention you sure know how to do it. “What the fuck do ya think you’re doin’, hmm?” he questions back heatedly. “Puttin’ on a fuckin’ show for all the privates? Do ya fuckin’ think this appropriate, what ya got on?”

Something about having this conversation with the barrier of his balaclava covering his face infuriates you as if this was any other time he would have already had it off his face. “You think you can just treat me like everyone else after all we’ve done? Fuck you; take off the mask when you’re talking to me.”

His eyes narrow as he shakes his head side to side. “You don’t get to make demands a me anymore, princess.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge back. “That what you think?”

Leaning in a bit closer, you can feel the heat of his breath even as it filters through the fabric. “That’s what I know. Now answer the question. Do ya think this is appropriate?”

Your shrug is nonchalant. “For field work? Well, it depends on the climate I suppose. That doesn’t really apply here does it, since we are still on base. Why? Do you have a problem with it?”

A sharp hiss of air exits rapidly out of his nose. “Like hell I do,” he says and suddenly you can make out the feel of his fingertips as they toy around with the fabric at the edge of your shorts. He lets them brush against your outer thigh as he follows the line of the hem up the slit that goes higher towards your hip. There is electricity in his touch and it makes your pulse start to race. “You're distracting my men. An outfit like this is askin’ for attention. Whose fuckin’ attention ya tryin’ to get, hmm?”

“Who said anything about attention?” you question him back as if you can’t possibly understand what all the fuss is about. “I just wanted to be comfortable. You know, unwind and all that after a long week.”

“Comfortable,” he scoffs as he rolls the fabric in between his fingers. “Ya barely have a god damned thing on.”

“Maybe that’s how I feel most comfortable,” you push, your reply a little more breathy. “You of all people should know that.” 

Oh you are walking on thin ice, lying to him like this. He is not that innocent that he can’t tell what you’re doing and you are not that naive to think that he won’t immediately figure it out. Harshly grabbing your chin, he holds your face firm in his grasp as his dark eyes shadowed within the confines of his mask stare back into your own. 

“Don’t ya lie to me, sweetheart,” he says, that gruff voice metered and unyielding in its severity. “The way ya were just eatin’ up how those boys reacted, I know ya didn’t fuckin’ dress like a slag for nothin’.”

“Are they not allowed to look, Simon?” you ask without missing a beat and using his name as if it’s a curse.

The question hangs in that air as Simon shifts in his stance while not saying a word, eyes narrowing as he realizes that there is no right way for him to answer that without giving himself away that he has dug himself into trouble.

A smug grin crosses your lips before you try to lick it away. “Ah, so that’s the problem right? That they were looking at me? Strange, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were… jealous. But that can’t be right, can it Simon? Because I thought I was cut off and that you were done, so it’s all fair game yeah? Unless there is something you want to fess up to?”

Simon’s chiseled jaw twitches under his mask as his eyes shimmer; you are pushing it, though why is he even surprised. “Ya better watch it, luv,” he warns under his breath as his grip along your chin tightens. “You are playin’ with fire and if ya ain’t careful, your pretty little fingers are gonna fuckin’ burn.” 

And before you are even made conscious of it, your mind immediately knows what to say in response. You hold his gaze steadfast in your own. “Make me.”

Those two little words and their variations are Simon’s kryptonite and you know it; that’s what got you on his cock in the first place. Nothing else can make that man go feral than a threat from a bratty bitch that puts him in the position to show them the consequences of what their cocky attitudes get them.  

You smirk, satisfied with how you seem to have the upper hand in this little confrontation. Simon is now in a place where he will either have to admit he still wants you and that his threat meant nothing or he will have to let you go… and you know by the rapid increase in the rise and fall of his chest the longer you stand between him and the wall that the latter is looking less and less likely. 

“Still waiting on your answer,” you say with a smug, satisfied grin spread across your lips, “or is it that if you say anything, it’ll make it clear that you are now regretting a certain… decision… you so hastily made?”

God, you know just how to rile him up in the exact way that both infuriates and entices him. His devil with a pretty face, his sin that feels like heaven; he is drawn to your stubbornness like a moth is drawn to a flame.

“Ya vicious little bitch,” he says, the words sharp. 

Gotcha, you think to yourself. You have that serious military officer right where you want him. Now all you have to do is go in for the kill. You take a step into him even with your chin still secure in his grasp. “Oh yeah,” you respond, your voice husky. “As if you don’t fucking love it.”

You are met with only silence as a shiver runs straight through him. He’s barely able to react in time to hide its presence, but grits his teeth hard and stifles any movement other than the rapid breaths he continues to take. 

“Cat got your tongue?” you ask and wait for a response that doesn’t come; you don’t expect it to. “That’s what I thought. So, here’s how it’s going to work: I’m gonna wear what I want, when I want, and if you don’t like how others react to my wardrobe then that’s on you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got a game to return to.” 

Pulling your head back forcefully out of his grip, his strong, rough fingers release your chin and he watches as you make your move to step past him, but he can’t let this go like he had originally planned. This is the game you both play and he just can’t quit you. You are his, his, and he isn’t going to just let you forget that. You barely take the first few steps around him headed back the way you came when you hear Simon mutter under his breath. 

“Fuck,” the sigh hits your ears before his arm jettisons out and grabs you by the wrist. 

Your body is spun around and pulled into him, your back flush against his warm chest as he leans himself back against the wall. His hand shoots up to cover over your mouth, cupping across your cheeks to stifle any sound that may come from the shock of his action. Sure enough you gasp into his palm as he straps you to his chest by locking you in place with his other arm. 

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, princess,” he grunts lowly into your ear. 

Stoic and silent he pushes a knee up through the gap in your legs to widen them before his hand slinks down your abdomen, over your pants, and comes to rest against your sex. That large palm now nestled in between your thighs presses up into you and it only takes a few seconds for Simon to realize that he can feel the lips of your pussy straight through the thin fabric of your pants without any barrier. No panties, really?

You fucking witch. You planned this, didn’t you?

There are still soldiers hanging about, out of sight for the moment, but still not something that is conducive for such an encounter. He wouldn’t risk something like this…would he? What you think is going to be a quick touch and pull back turns into his hand locking to your pussy as he begins to massage it through your pants. He pushes his fingers up through the cloth until he can feel the outline of your clit on his fingertips.

A quiet chuckle falls from your lips behind his handmade muzzle as his fingers make contact with the crotch of your shorts and you feel his chest jerk as he struggles to catch his breath. Feel something you like, lieutenant? you think as the corners of your mouth upturn against his skin. 

A moan barely squeaks out from around his hand before he presses it harder against your lips. “Don’t need someone catchin’ us, do we? Not til I’m finished with ya.”

Those heated words cause your heart to race violently, thudding strong against your ribcage to match a certain throbbing growing in strength between your thighs. 

“You gonna keep quiet?” he asks and you nod in his hand. “Don’t make me regret it or else, princess.”

Simon removes his palm and wraps his arms around your waist; you’re not going anywhere. “We could still get caught, you know,” you say softly, stumbling over your words as his fingers continue to play.

“Ya should've thought of that before ya tempted me with this fuckin’ skin, luv,” he murmurs against the side of your head. There is no way in hell you are getting out of these shorts without him fucking you out of them, he will stop only when he can feel a wet spot soaking through the crotch. “ ‘Sides, maybe I want that prick that had his fuckin’ hands on ya ta see that he doesn’t stand a chance.” 

He won’t, he has never been the type to share but the threat serves its purpose. The boys at the pool table continue to distract themselves, but who knows how long that will last. If they come creeping over, there is no way they won’t instantly know what is happening. And yet over and over his large fingers grind against your clit until it begins to ache. 

“Gimme your hand,” he searches for the appendage, only to be met with resistance once he locates it. 

“I said give,” he reiterates the point in that more authoritative tone he is used to using with his men.

You shake your head that still rests in his grasp; you don’t want to make this easy for him. If he wants something he is going to have to work for it. Encapsulating your wrist in his hand, the muscles along his forearm strain as he drags your arm up from your side. He takes your hand firmly in his, fingers lacing themselves over the top of your own as he descends them both down the front of your body and slips them into the waistband of your shorts. No time is wasted in bringing them directly between your legs, parting through your warm, soft lips, and nestling both sets of fingers inside. 

“Gonna need ya ta participate in this part,” he says, low and bassey at the side of your face. “You’re fuckin’ achin’ bad, aren’t ya? Christ luv, I can already feel how swollen your clit is.”

Simon keeps your conjoined fingers resting up against that tiny bundle of nerves. There is a tension-filled pause as he takes a deep, labored breath as the end of his thought hangs anxiously in the air, waiting for him to finish it. His lips are right at the threshold of your earlobe, you can feel their presence as they ghost near the tender flesh, the skin tingling as his warm breath wafts over the area.

You suddenly realize the lack of oxygen filling your lungs as he finally speaks. “Let’s make it worse,” he growls. 

A shiver snakes through your spine as he forces your fingers to work in tandem with his in rolling circles over your sensitive clit, stroking again and again in a steady rhythm that he has set. 

“Best hope they decide to leave soon, sweetheart,” he breathes the words into your ear as he rests his forehead against your temple. “Cause if ya want me to let ya fuckin’ come, they’re gonna have to be gone. Until then we’re just gonna have to keep ya wet and fuckin’ ready.”

His phallus pulses against your ass through his pants, bobbing with his racing heartbeat as it prods into the cheek of your ass. A struggled, shaky breath escapes your lips as he moves his hips to press it into you; your sanity is hanging on by a thread. All you want is for him to bend you over, rip your shorts down, and thrust inside, but no matter how much you rub against it he does not take the bait.

Time passes so much slower as you stay strapped to him, his hand and yours shoved down the front of your shorts keeping you wet. Your sanity is beginning to wane; no one should be expected to keep it together when a lover who knows your body like the back of his hand is using everything to his advantage to keep you aching.

Pressure gathering in the pit of your stomach only to dissipate before it can ever come to fruition, over and over Simon brings you to the brink only to back off once you get close enough. It feels like eternity in the haze of his capable fingers working your body before the men finally decide that they have had enough with standing around the quiet center when the local bar is just a short drive down the road and head out, completely forgetting that they haven’t seen either you or the lieutenant for quite some time, but they also haven’t seen either of you leave. 

The moment the door shuts and the last sounds of talking can be heard drifting off into the distance, you are released and again turned only to be shoved back against the wall. Simon is immediately pressed against you, one knee collapsing into the wall between your legs as your hands greedily claw at the cloth gathered at base of his neck, fingers pulling up the bottom of his mask without hindrance so that they can get underneath it and push it up to expose his hungry mouth. A devilish, toothy grin waits to meet you as the fabric is removed; he’s proud of the desperation he has left you in. 

“They’re gone,” you say with a heavy bit of neediness. “I did what you said.” 

“Ya want me ta give it to ya now, that it?” he asks with a smug sense of self satisfaction. 

“You promised,” you shoot back, the agony of waiting becoming unbearable the longer he takes. 

His face inches in closer to yours, hot breath meeting and wafting over the skin on your lips as he exhales. “Ya think this is gonna be some sorta reward?” he asks, his voice lowering into the deeper part of his register, that gravely vibrato that turns your legs into jelly just from the sound.  

Those full lips of his ghost over your own, making the skin quiver from the proximity. Your mouth parts open as suddenly you feel like you can’t get enough air while waiting in misery for him to break and crash on you with all of his desire. A breathy gasp escapes through the gap as that thick thigh of his presses up into your pussy. He has you right where he wants you now.  

“Ya still got a fuckin’ lesson ta learn, princess,” he says. “So, I’m gonna have ta fuck the attitude til it comes drippin’ right out of ya.” 

And with that he leans down and forcefully connects your lips together so that your head hits the wall behind you. Fiery and aggressive he embraces your mouth again and again, lips fighting for dominance with each new connection. Breath and spit are shared as the wet smacking sounds of skin on skin hits the air and fills up the quiet of the place. 

You haven’t gotten your fill yet, but suddenly you find your body being lifted into the air and carelessly flung over one of his broad shoulders as he drags you back into the middle of the room. He eyes his destination the moment it comes into view from around the wall and quickly makes his way over to it; somewhere he can put you so he can get to work.

Your backside makes contact with the smooth felt of the pool table as Simon sets you down on top of it. The cool surface of the rails raises goosebumps on the back of your thighs as he situates you right at the edge. No longer pressed together, a spot of cold radiates from his thigh and he looks down to see a present you have left for him right on the fabric.

“Look what ya did,” he growls, pointing to the obviously darker patch on the inner thigh of his jeans. “Made a fuckin’ mess.”

“Whose…ng…fucking fault is that?” you whimper, adjusting yourself as every little movement puts pressure on your aching clit. 

“And I’d do it again ta keep my brat in line,” he smirks as his irises sparkle like a predator locking on to its prey. “Now, open your fuckin’ legs.”

You widen the gap between your thighs more, but he still has to use his hips to shove them open enough that he can fit in until he is right up against you. The sharp edge of his teeth cuts into the plump flesh of your bottom lip as he sucks it into his mouth to give it a hard nip. He swallows down the harsh groan you produce at his delicious brand of roughness like it’s honey. Every single sound you make in response to his actions is music to his ears. 

“Need ya ta know this type a shit isn’t gonna fly with me.”

Fingertips play around the perimeter of your cunt until he hooks them through the cool, damp crotch of your pants and wrenches them to the side to expose your entrance. “Let’s ruin these fuckin’ things,” he smugly says as he works with one hand to undo his pants and slide both that and his boxers down his thighs until his cock pops out of the waistband and stands hard and throbbing for you. “Don’t ever wanna see these goddamn things again after tonight.”

His vice-like grip on the crotch of your shorts causes a few of the overly taut threads to snap as he holds the fabric out of his way to align the swollen head of his cock with that dripping, aching hole he’s been working so that it’s already ready to take him in. You can feel the tip of his hard girth push against the moist skin before he bucks his hips and it strains through the barrier. His grip moves to your waist to force your body further down on him as you whine, the stretch overwhelming, but divine. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, princess? Why you wore these tight fuckin’ things, yeah? Ya tryin’ ta make me take ya like an animal?” he grunts, the feel of your tight, silky walls fluttering around his cock as he fills you full threatening to send him straight to hell. 

“The moment I saw ya in ‘em I thought I was gonna lose control. Been a while since I had ya. That on purpose too?”   

You fall backward against the table, your back arching up off it and your eyes roll back into your head as he pulls you down while slamming the length of his phallus up into you until he reaches the base. He doesn’t give you a moment to gather your sanity and instead snaps his hips into you, the intensity in each stroke causing your body to jolt over the felted surface. 

“Look at me,” he grunts as he reaches out to grab at your chin and pull you back up to him, “look - at - me.”

You’re unable to deny him when he’s thrusting so deep and your eyes open to meet his gaze again. “You’re mine, ya hear?” he breathes the words desperate and firm. “Nobody else can look at ya like this, got it? Nobody.”

His breath hitches a moment as a shudder runs through his cock from the way you tighten around it. “Those boys out there mighta gotten a show tonight, but that’s the last they’ll ever get,” he growls more intensely. “Don’t even want ‘em to think they have a fuckin’ chance wit ya cause you belong ta me. You were made for me, princess. Only me.”

Harder and harder he pounds into your pussy with a need that feels like it cannot be quenched no matter how deep he goes. “And nobody else - nobody else- ya don’t need anyone else ‘sides me. Say it.” 

A pathetic whimper is all he gets in response as his cock digs in deep, but that isn’t good enough. You’re gonna do exactly as he says and repeat it - out loud. His grip around your face tightens.

“Say it,” he demands again. 

“Don’t… need a-anyone…else…” you stammer out as it is a struggle now to speak. 

Then you hear it, the distinct sound of fabric beginning to rip. The seam along the crotch has had too much strain put on it and it is starting to give, threads ripping more steadily the harder Simon thrusts. God, that sound is the catalyst to you suddenly feeling wild, like all you want him to do is shred the fucking things off of you by screwing you out of them. It’s at that moment that familiar warmth begins to gather in your belly. It won’t be long now and you’ll be spilling.

“Say: you’re the only one I fuckin’ want,” he insists as he clenches to make his cock pulse inside of you.

Simon’s wide hand slides down from your chin to just at the base of your throat where he wraps it around and gives it a light squeeze for emphasis. The pressure feels like heaven amongst all the stimulation and trying to keep your eyes on him and speak at the same time is nearly impossible, but find your words soon enough.

You lick your parched lips. “You’re the only one I want, Simon,” you moan.

“Again.”

“You’re the only one I will ever want, Simon.”

Another couple of desperately strong thrusts. “And you’re gonna listen from now on, yeah?”

“Yes!” you blurt out.

He pulls you by the throat so that you meet him in a kiss as his hips never stop snapping into you. “Such a fuckin’ obedient girl for me,” he groans against your mouth as he breaks free from it. “Now, let’s make ya come so ya never fuckin’ forget who it is that ya belong to.”

Releasing your neck, Simon brings his hand down, parting through your dripping lips to find your clit so that he can rub over it as he thrusts. There is not much more you can take now; all his work before has done its job to perfection and your body is falling apart so rapidly it feels like the nosedive off that first ddrop of a rollercoaster. 

“G-gonna… gonna come, baby,” you stammer out. You bring your lips in closer to his, desperate to kiss him again, but the pleasure is just too much to handle that you devolve into simply panting instead. 

He inhales in ragged breaths the sweet air from your mouth, his teeth grinding together the harder he thrusts. All those days without you have been frustrating as he waited for you to come crawling back. He missed the feeling of you wrapped around him and right now he needs you to come on his cock. 

But this isn’t going to teach you what he wants. Pulling out amidst your whined protests, he pulls you off the table onto your feet and spins you around before pushing your upper body down while guiding you to spread your stance wider and ripping the crotch of your pants aside again, this time he doesn’t hesitate to enter you.

From this angle the penetration is even deeper and as his finger finds that tiny bud of nerve endings again, you are right back where you want to be - a mess ready to explode.   

“Come for me.” He is demanding while trying to hold it all together. “Now.”

Harder and harder he pushes, thrusting and stroking, and like the flick of a switch all that heat and all that pressure culminates in an explosion that has you crying out loudly as you come with force, your back arching to pull you away from his grasp. Waves wash through your body as the intensity of your orgasm shakes through you until your legs are vibrating around his hips. 

The moment you cry out he allows himself to let go, finally finished with his task, and fucking you through your orgasm he comes so hard that he has to grab the sides of the pool table to keep himself upright. Grunting like an animal he coats your walls and thrusts his cum continuously back up into you until he is spent and cannot go another second. 

Simon stays inside as you both come back down from that exhilarating high, two glistening bodies conjoined at the forehead with eyes closed until he has enough strength to pull his sensitive cock carefully out of you. Both of your mixed juices follow his cock out, dribbling out of your entrance to collect in the crotch of your pants as they snap back into place now that there is nothing keeping them pushed aside. 

You flip yourself back over and lean against the edge of the table to look down at what’s left of your shorts. They are completely soaked, drenched in so much of your juices that they look wet. The ruined fabric clings to your body as if it’s glued on and you are left feeling cold down there as Simon pulls away.

“That’s better,” he says with satisfaction as he studies his handiwork of the ripped, saturated fabric. “And so is this.”

A more gentle kiss is placed on your lips this time, one in praise of you doing so well for him. You reciprocate the feeling by cupping his face in your hands.

“And we’re not gonna have any more a this, right?” he asks as he pulls from your mouth.

Looking into his eyes, a subtle smirk contours your lips. “We’ll see,” you say as Simon shakes his head.

He wouldn’t expect anything less.

“So,” you continue, “I’m just wondering if you thought about how I’m going to leave here, now that I look like this. Gonna need something so I don’t have to cross base.” 

Across the way he spots a random jacket hanging off the back of a chair, left by one of the privates no doubt. Looks big enough and he returns with it in hand. Carefully he circles the sleeves around your body and ties them in front to cover you until you can get back to your room and change. Don’t need anyone seeing anything they shouldn’t.

“I did really like these by the way,” you pick as Simon pulls you by the knot in the sleeves wrapped around your waist back into him to catch your lips one last time with his.  

“Don’t ya worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna be gettin’ you a new pair, ones that I chose,” he says. “Cause I’m gonna be the only one that gets to enjoy this fuckin’ view from now on. And it’s a view you’re gonna give me ‘gain and again, darlin’.”

[mdanon027]

Back in his arms | Spencer Reid x FemaleReader

Back in his arms | Spencer Reid x FemaleReader

Masterlist

Summary | Three times Spencer Spencer Reid seeks for physical affection (Inspired by some of the Prompts from the list seeking out physical affection by @creativepromptsforwriting )

Word Count | 3095.

Warnings | I don’t think there’s any warning, if you found something triggering, please let me know.

Side Note: I don’t own any of Criminal Minds characters, words, or narrative. This is only a reinterpretation and fiction based on the Criminal Minds Universe they continue to develop. Also no repost is allowed. If you ever see this on another website, please let me know.

1. acting like they're cold to have an excuse to cuddle or share clothes or blankets

After a long case, the team was exhausted. The flight back to Quantico will take at least 8 hours, so they decided to travel back immediately after they ended the work. 

The flight was at night time. Close to the winter season, the weather is changing. So what better opportunity to get close to the person he was enchanted with, than get warm while getting close on the big couch of the plane? 

“Why are you so cold?” JJ asked Y/N.

“I really don't know, probably the warm weather before getting to the plane and the air conditioner here it's giving me chills.” She said while warming her arms.

“Did you know the average temperature in planes is about 22 to 24 degrees? That's because while we are flying the temperature outside is about -60 degrees…” He started to talk, until she interrupted him.

“So… I should be grateful?” She asked him while getting on the seats.

“They leave the temperature that way to have the average one on land, it is supposed to make you comfortable.” He said while passing her his own sweater.

“I was planning on saying no to your sweater, but I'm going to say yes because I'm really cold.” She told him while putting the sweater on.

They took their seats, and the flight began.

“Go Pretty Boy, it's the perfect time for a snuggle.” Said Derek passing by with a coffee, giving him a smirk.

“I don't know what you mean.” He decided to play it cool. 

“Don't play dumb.” Rossi told him from his seat.

“What are you talking about?” He knew perfectly what they were talking about, but he knew that if he admitted it, the teasing would have no end. 

“Leave him alone, if Reid doesnt what to make another move, then he won't.” Hotch said.

“Another move?” He asks now, curious.

“I mean, giving up your sweater even when you never ever take it off on a daily basis? For me it was a move.” Now Hotch was profiling him. 

“You are joining them?” He couldn't believe that the man was joining the fun.

“It's not that I'm joining, but if you want to make a move, you should start doing something.” Ended Hotch getting back to his report while smiling. 

After two hours of flight, everyone already had a quick dinner and some of them were almost ready to fall asleep. But Y/N was still cold, so he finally decided to use his knowledge to his advantage. 

“You may not say anything, but I can see you are getting colder, we can share the blanket.” He said while looking at her while she trembled.

“I think it’s a great idea.” She stood up from her seat and got close to him on the couch.

Spencer makes a space for her, and covers her up with the blanket.

“High stress levels can cause flu-like symptoms, such as fever, cold, nausea, and body aches. There's a high possibility you are about to get sick.” He said while looking down at her.

“Probably. This case was a mess, thankfully we resolved it.” She said while shivering.

“Layering clothes to get warm could prevent the colds. But right now, the clothes are limited, I can give you a hug, if you want to.” He said while feeling his face getting warm. He took the chance to have her in his arms. At that moment he could hear some laughs from the seats, apparently the interaction wasn’t as private as he thought.  He looked around to see his teammates giving him thumps ups while Emily said “Nice one!”.

He wasn’t sure on how to act properly on how to start a romantic “relationship ”. The few times he had experienced, were either brief and the closest he had, ended up in a tragedy. 

Thankfully he was learning to live with it, with a new hope of finding someone to spend his life with. But he was wheeling to take a try.

2. fixing the other's hairstyle to let their hands run through their partner's hair

He was an expert talking for audiences. He usually did not get nervous about it, after conferences, seminars or even giving classes at college, it was easy peasy. 

But it was the first time Y/N was going to talk to an audience giving a class of her expertise. 

She was good at talking to the press when needed, or even to groups to calm the masses in times of fear. But it was different to try to explain situations to people in dangerous situations than teaching young people how to act as a mediator in dangerous situations. 

She knew how to react, but one thing was doing it and another different to explain it.

Rossi invited Hotch and Y/N to give a lecture on how to act on situations that involve firearms and detonation objects. The team knew she was one of the best ones in that field, with no mistake shots, amazing disarmament skills and extraordinary knowledge on bombs (just like Derek teached  her on her Academy days).

They spend several late nights together (sometimes with the other members joining) practicing her lecture. It had anything and everything that could possibly happen, and she was ready for any possible question. 

All the team was there to support her. 

“I’m nervous.” Y/N said while fixing her hair looking through the window reflection.

“Garcia is inside getting ready with your slides. Take a deep breath, you're going to do great.” Hotch told her.

“Yeah, you practiced a lot and if anything happens, you just need to talk about the heroic job you do every day.” Said Rossi, while getting close to the door of the exhibition room. “Hotch and I are going to start, and then you will proceed.”

“A brief introduction and you will continue.” Said Hotch, entering the room.

“You will be doing fine! If anything happens, we are going to be inside, just look for us if you get really nervous.” Said Emily, while Derek and JJ get inside the room.

“You are going to do just fine, just like we practice, remember it's more a talk than a class. They want to know how it's going to be in their future work field.” Spencer told her while opening the door for her.

“You are right, in that room we are the only ones that know how things actually work.” She took a deep breath.

“Let me fix the final details from your hair.” Spencer told her before Rossi and Hotch started to talk. “All done. You can do it. If you get nervous, just look for me and start talking to me.” He winked, while getting to his seat.

Rossi and Hotch started the talk with certain facts and background about de BAU, and proceeded to let Y/N start explaining.

At one point of the lecture she got so passionate about it, that she started to pass her fingers through her hair thanks to the constant hair interrupting her view. While brushing it, she didn’t notice it was beginning to get disheveled. For sure her attendants didn’t care about it, they were deep into the information the expert was giving them for their future work field.

By the end of the lecture, the students were ecstatic with the knowledge they received, even asking for her contact info for future references related to their courses, some of them asking their professor if they could invite Y/N again in the future. 

Rossi was right to invite her.

The first one to arrive was Spencer.

“Let me fix your hair.” He said while brushing his fingers through her hair.

“Again?” She said surprised.

“It's kind of untidy over here.” He continued,

“Was like this all the time?” She said with little worry in her voice.

“For about more than half of your presentation.” He answered.

“Really? Why didn't you tell me something?” She asked him.

“That could be distracting for you.”He finished fixing her hair. “All done!”

“You could make me a sign.” Y/N told him.

“You didn't even look at us, and your hair gets that way when you start to talk really excited about the things that fascinates you, it always blocks your vision and you start to adjust your hair.” Spencer commented on that fact.

“Why haven't you ever told me that?” Now she was curious.

“Because you look cute that way.” He answered her. “Now come here, let me congratulate you.” He proceeds to give her a hugh, she is back into his arms. “You did marvelous over there! A natural instructor.”

“Thanks for helping me rehearse over 20 times.” She couldn't express how grateful she was with him.

“Actually, it was 34 times.” All he could hear was her laugh. “Not that I was counting.” He was in fact counting. She just smiled looking up at him.

The next one to approach was the team.

“Come here.” Penelope said while hugging her really tight. “You did amazing, my friend!.”

“You think so?”

“Yes! The presentation was amazing, really to the point and with the details that needed to be exposed.” Said Emily while joining the hug.

“Of course Y/LN.” Said Hotch while giving her a smile. 

“You were outstanding, I made a good decision to bring you with me today.” Said Rossi. “Whenever you want to come back and give another class, we can arrange you a spot.”

“And not forgetting that I teached you the basics back in your days.” Said Derek giving her a big hug. 

“You should give a class together.” Said JJ, getting close to congratulate her dear friend.

“Thank you, every single one of you for helping me get prepared for this.” Y/N with a big smile on her face. “Especially Spencer, thanks for listening to my lecture 34 times.” She said while giving him a hug.

“This deserves a celebration! Dinner at my house tonight!” Said Rossi from behind.

Everyone started to walk away, to finally celebrate another accomplishment that one of their teammates got.

3. reaching out with their hand without saying anything, wanting the other one to grab it

Spencer knew the basics of dancing. Really the basics, it took him time, but Derek and Penelope helped him during their free times. 

You may ask, why?

Rossi was doing his annual Christmas Celebration, only with the BAU team. It wasn’t a big deal of a party, but for sure a ball in small proportions. An attempt of dancing was another opportunity to be close (at least even more close than what they already are) to Y/N, and he was taking a chance. The team kept teasing him, but later he realized they were just trying to help him to get with her, and he was willing to take their support.

“Pretty Boy, it’s time.” Said Derek.

“I don’t know, we only took a few lessons.” Said Spencer unsure.

“Believe me, you will want to hold her close for a while.” Said Penelope.

“What do you mean?”

“You will know soon.” Ended Derek.

From afar, he could see Y/N and Emily talking, they were really into the conversation while JJ and Will made comments, they were really into it.

The music started to sound in the background and Rossi, as the extra person he was, made an invitation so they could start to dance while the turntable was in the works of preparation. 

Derek and Penelope were the ones who opened the dance floor, following behind Hotch and Beth, and JJ with Will.

Hotch gave him a look and a nod pointing to Y/N’s table. It was time.

He built up courage, got closer to the table and reached his hand so she could take it. Without hesitation, she took it. He started to walk to the dance floor.

He held her close. Was like a dream. And they started to dance.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” She said to him, in a low voice.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me.” Spencer told her.

“Well, I know a lot about you, but this one specifically wasn’t in my radar.” She ended.

They kept slow dancing for several songs, making small conversations between some comfortable silence moments. It wasn’t weird, they could almost talk through their eyes.

Until she decided to talk again.

“I’m probably leaving.” She said really low and slow.

“What do you mean? You can’t leave.” He wasn't expecting this type of news.

“It’s only for a time.” She wasn't looking at him.

“Why?” He was confused, wasn’t she happy with the team?

“Emily recommended me to the Interpol for a special training. Apparently one of the asistans from the lecture I gave, it’s interested in me teaching their team on explosive objects. Derek also sent a letter, endorsing my knowledge in the topic.” She finished.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” He really wanted to know, they were supposed to be close.

“I didn’t knew. They just told me this morning. I’m still thinking about it. Hotch and Rossi already knew, and are encouraging me to take it. But first I wanted to ask you, what did you think about ir.” Oh, that was it.

“Is my opinion that important?” Maybe they were more than close friends. 

“You are the closest friend I have, in my personal and professional life. Most of the time, you are my teammate.” She spoke. 

The next few songs were danced in silence, she kept her head close to his body listening to his heartbeat. What could he tell her? It was a great chance for her. He wasn't going to stop her professional growth.

“You should take it.” He finally spoke his mind.

“Really?” She finally looked at him.

“You are amazing at doing your work. It would be a waste of your talent not taking this opportunity.” It was the truth. 

“But it's a long time, and I'm going to be away from home and alone, and without you.” It sounded like she wouldn't take the chance of being far away trying new things.

“It's only two months, even though I’m not a big fan of technology, we can video call each other whenever you want. You already know I have a non average sleep schedule or even we can message all day.” 

He promised, now they were close, he took one more chance to hold her back in his arms as close as possible for the time they had before her departure.

+1 turning their cheek to get the other one to give them a peck

After being gone for more than two months, thanks to the fact that she was required for a special task outside the country (by Emily's and Derek's recommendation), she was finally back with the team.

He was waiting, with her favorite coffee, pastry and a flower plushie (he knew she was allergic to them, or at least the ones of this season). 

They talked every single day since she was gone. He knew all the things she did overseas. But he wanted to know about them again, even if he repeated them in his thoughts every time after they ended talking, he needed  to see her face in real life while talking and to get lost in her eyes. 

He couldn’t explain how he felt about her. She was more than a colleague, more than a teammate, more than a friend and he believed more than her soulmate. 

During this time afar, he realized what truly was to care for a person, even when they were not physically together. It was the same feeling he had for his mother, there was no day he didn’t speak to her, and the same thing happened with Y/N. 

While growing up, he was used to either getting ignored or being made fun of.

But she always listened to every single fact he had to say, when he talked fast about something he is passionate about, or only listened and talked to him about his thoughts.

For sure he was in love with her.

She arrived at the office, while everyone was there to welcome her back. She passed by a line of hugs and warm words. She was missed in the team.

After all the greetings,she started to look for him, she was wearing one of his sweaters he lent her for the trip, and proceeded to give him a hug. He had never received a hug as tight as the one he was experiencing. 

“I missed you so much, Spencer.” She said with an almost inaudible voice while burying her face in his sweater while catching his scent.

“I missed you even more.” He told her, while topping her head.

“Even if we talked every single day I was gone?” She looked directly into his eyes.

“It’s not the same, a screen can’t take a chance than talking to your pretty face.” He was smiling.

“Oh, Spencer.” She whispered close to his cheek ready to give him a peck, she was the only one allowed to do it.

It was now or never.

He turned around.

It was a small peck. And he looked delighted.

“I'm so sorry Spencer.” She said, astonished. While looking at him with those beautiful startled eyes.

“I'm not.” He said back, getting another peck from her. This time she was also smiling, but stayed silent. “If you want me to stop, please tell me something,”

She shut him down with a proper kiss. 

“The kid finally did it.” Rossi muttered to Hotch.

“He took his time.” He said while smiling. Everyone knew they eventually ended up together.

From the other side of the room, their teammates were giggling at the young ones.

“Well, it’s sad I have to break it to you, but we have a case. To the round table.” Said Hotch from his office, getting close to Spencer while giving him a palm to his back.

“Oh, come on Hotch, let the love birds have a little more time.” Said Derek getting close to Spencer and giving a small side hug to the both of them.

“Come on, we have work to do.” Spencer said, giving her a last small kiss, and started to hold her hand while starting walking. “You are never ever leaving my side, ok?”

“Ok.” She couldn't believe it. She was amazed with what just happened. 

There was no better welcome back.

Back in his arms. 

Autor’s Note: Hello Again! As I told you before, I'm in my Criminal Minds Era, so this is the second time Im writting about this!I wanted to post if before my +10 hours flight to my Holiday Vacation! Its probably the last thing I'm writting/posting this year related to an original work. I was feeling inspired this days. I hope you like it!

If any of the authors I read ever read this, to let you know I always go as anon (thanks that this is my side blog) and I always sign as -MD💜 or -MDanon027💜 (@mdanon027). Thanks for the inspiration!

Also, please be honest if you like it or nah. Any comment will help for future personal writing skills. And if you see any misspelling, I’m sorry, I already reread it several times, and English it’s not my first language. Please don’t mind on telling me to correct anything.

[mistresscitrusslice]

I will never get why some people think Jayce and Viktor’s arcs aren’t connected enough. Like, did y’all not see how so much of what they did impacted the other? They’ll literally say there weren’t genuine moments between the two and still have the gall to post this shit on the Jayvik tag and say they could do a better job writing the show than the actual writers.

The point IS that they’re growing apart and not resolving their problems jointly throughout the series. Jayce gets drawn in by the worst parts of Piltover and Viktor gets drawn in by the worst parts of Zaun. That’s- that’s literally spoonfed in the “We lost our way” scene.

Their plots seem disconnected BECAUSE THEY’RE INTENDED TO BE. Because Jayce’s priority list is a mess of incomprehensible scribbles and Viktor’s go-to move is to lock himself in the lab, fuck everything else. That’s. The point. They lost sight of their goal just as they lost sight of each other. If Caitvi is an example of how Piltover and Zaun can work together, Jayvik is an example of how Piltover and Zaun can fall apart.

There are still people out there saying that Jayce doesn’t express worry for Viktor’s impending death outside of the hospital scene. And apparently there wasn’t enough story emphasis on Jayce insulting the people of the Undercity. That Jayce and Viktor “really don’t act like good friends or anything” AND THEN POST THIS IN THE JAYVIK TAG AS DIRECT PROVOCATION. If you can’t see that they’re close, then you’re denser than the brick wall I feel like I’m talking to. This isn’t even about shipping. Some people LITERALLY cannot see the platonic love waving its arms in front of you.

Jayce can’t figure out priorities, but we DO see him working with Viktor on the Hexcore, trying to influence the way it reacts to organic matter. In fact, I think the only time he spends in lab after becoming councilor IS TRYING TO SAVE VIKTOR.

Viktor also pushed him away at the start, saying not to worry, and Jayce respected his wishes. He only starts accepting Jayce’s help after getting sent to the emergency room.

You know what else he does to try to save his partner? HE DEPOSES THE HEAD OF THE STATE. (Besties, if your bf won’t dethrone a ruler for you, he ain’t your bf <3) As soon as Heimerdinger said he would destroy the one chance they had at saving Viktor’s life, Jayce took immediate action and removed that obstacle for them.

Wdym they never focused again on the fact that Jayce insulted Viktor’s people? We see that that line had IMMEDIATE AND DIRECT AND LASTING CONSEQUENCES. It’s implied that Viktor would have told Jayce about the shimmer since he said, “Jayce will understand,” but decides not to tell him anything after Jayce says that bullshit. Without someone to bounce ideas off of while using the shimmer and the Hexcore on himself, he gets a lot more reckless and Sky goes poof.

One thing leads to another. Just because it wasn’t spoonfed to you doesn’t mean you can’t use your brain and make the connection. Besides, Jayce eventually writes up the proposal to free Zaun. Viktor presents this peace treaty to the Council alongside Jayce, so we can assume that it has been at least partially resolved between them, but likely that we will see more of it in season 2, or so you need that spelled out for you as well?

I said this a in a response already, but seeing as it was deleted to curate this user’s echo chamber, i still felt the need to post this where people could see it. Fuck you, but you can’t see this anyway, so nobody’s feelings will be hurt.

[brewstersbru]

Queerplatonic Radioapple 📻 🍎,,, old men (losers) who care abt e/o

The thing about being an angel is that there are always bloodier, messier ways to do things. There’s an easy way, and there’s a fun way, and despite what they would have you believe, angels are much too bored with eternity to choose anything but the fun way anymore.

Lucifer curses whatever twisted being made him and bestowed his powers upon him- God- then backtracks in his own head, still deathly afraid of being heard and punished. Then, once he remembers that no one is listening, haven’t been for centuries, he curses them again.

Charlie is worried about Alastor. He hasn’t been acting himself these past few days. Rarely leaves his tower unless summoned, his smiles have become tight-lipped and straining. Even with the cursory attention Lucifer has paid him- busy with trying to make up for too many years in a hole- it’s not hard to see that Charlie is right, and something is wrong.

All it takes is a quick, plausibly accidental stroll outside of his rooms to tell Lucifer what it is. Charlie hadn’t asked him to snoop, but she’s nervous. Doesn’t want to lose another friend. Lucifer would do anything and everything to Fix It, and in order to get to that point he needs to know what’s wrong. So he snoops.

The pungent reek of demon blood poisoned with holy light permeates the air around Alastor’s rooms. To anyone but Lucifer it probably doesn’t smell too different, Alastor has very obviously put a lot of effort into covering the stench with rancid deer meat, and gamey sinner. Lucifer knows what a holy wound smells like, though, hell he’s not sure why he didn’t recognize it before now. Alastor’s obviously put in work to keep this a secret but it shouldn’t have worked for this long against the literal king of hell. He’s distracted, too comfortable, needs to sharpen the hell up if he has any plans of actually protecting his daughter and her passion project in any meaningful way.

Once he knows what is wrong, it’s not difficult to devise a fix. What is difficult, is coming to terms with what that will entail.

The way he sees it, there are three ways out of this situation. One, he tells Alastor he knows that he’s still hurt and offers to heal the wound through touch, which will take approximately an hour after which they never have to speak again. That one’s mostly a bust simply because Lucifer reckons Alastor won’t let him get past the first part without mauling him.

Two, he lets Alastor die of being a stubborn, pissy bastard. This one’s not really an option considering the whole reason he’s going through all of this trouble is so that Charlie will stop worrying. Killing him won’t stop the worrying, no matter how much he wishes it would.

Finally, unfortunately the only feasible plan, is to siphon the poison from the wound over time. Slowly imbuing Alastor’s soul with his own, tainted holy energy in order to heal the wound over time. If he does it right, Alastor won’t even know he was healed. The unfortunate part about this plan is that it doesn’t rid the wound from existence like a touch would, it simply transfers it from one soul to another. Lucifer will be taking the wound onto himself, where he can work on healing it naturally, as his body is not poisoned by the purity of angelic wounds. It will hurt, but it will heal. If the wound is left on Alastor, it will never heal.

Begrudging, but still determined to be as useful as possible to Charlie before he inevitably fucks everything up again, Lucifer resolves to go through with plan number three. It takes a week. Seven days of gradually increasing pain, of magicking golden stains from his coat, then being winded from using magic, of sewing himself together each night only to wake up in a pool of his own blood because the wound had grown larger while he slept.

It takes seven days, but at the end of it, Alastor is as chipper as ever, and the crease between Charlie’s brows has smoothed into something joyful. The wound now spans the length of Lucifer’s chest, wrapping around his torso near his ribs and up to his rightmost shoulder blade. Honestly, he’s not sure how Alastor survived so long like this and feels a grudging respect at the man for having pushed through.

The wound throbs, and every so often it will twinge, as if Lucifer were being cut in half- scored and carved all over again- but when he walks downstairs on the morning of the eighth day and finds Alastor cooking, Charlie seated, legs kicking happily at the island… He knows it’s worth it. Any amount of pain would be worth the sheer relief on Charlie’s face as she tracks Alastor’s every move, still looking for any irregularities. Something like pride swells within Lucifer at the knowledge that she will find none. He did that. He brought her that solace. No one will ever know, but that wasn’t the point of it.

“Good morning your majesty!” Alastor crows from the stove, he doesn’t turn to greet him. For a moment Lucifer wonders how he had known he was there, but a pair of eyes glinting in the shadows of the hallway tells him all he needs to know about that. Charlie perks and glances over at him as he’s addressed.

“Good morning, Alastor! You seem awful chipper today, feeling better?” No one will know he helped Alastor, yes, but that doesn’t mean he cant have fun with this. Just the look on his face right now- a smile, frozen, as his brows draw inward in incredulity- is worth the twinge that talking elicits.

Alastor, always the performer, recovers easily. “I’ve no idea what you mean! I have not been sick in decades, your majesty.”

Lucifer only chuckles, hiding his wince by taking a seat next to Charlie at the island. God why does it hurt so much? Why can’t he focus on anything else? Michael had torn off his fucking wings and stabbed him through the heart with blessed steel when he cast him down to hell and he can’t handle a little holy light from Adam? Eternity has made him soft. It’s fucking pathetic.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to presume. You had Charlie worried!” He grits, trying to keep his voice even and chipper. Charlie smacks him on the arm and he has to fight off a groan. Fucking. Worthless.

“Dad! I wasn’t- I just- UGH.” She stutters, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I still can’t believe we sent you to deal with Adam alone. That never should’ve happened, Al, I’m so so so so sorr-“

Alastor cuts her off with a grin, sliding a steaming plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of her. “No need, my dear! As you can see I’m right as rain and in one piece.” His eyes slide over to Lucifer for a moment and he hums.

“Would you like some breakfast, your majesty?” He asks, turning back to the stove. Lucifer shakes his head, then regrets it when it makes him dizzy.

“I’m alright, thank you. Had a big dinner.” He manages. Alastor hums again, and Lucifer isn’t sure whether that means he believes him or not.

Charlie finishes her meal in quiet, comfortable conversation with Alastor, some of the other hotel residents who stop in for a bite and, occasionally, Lucifer when he manages to push down the nausea enough to speak without fear of barfing all over her nice pantsuit.

She leaves with little fanfare, but she does pull Lucifer into a side hug that, while agonizing, he will cherish forever. The rest of the ‘reformees’ make their way through the kitchen for the next thirty minutes until Charlie calls everyone to the atrium for some bonding exercises. Alastor does not make any move to leave the kitchen at the announcement, so Lucifer doesn’t, either. He’s also unsure of his ability to not pass out if he stands right now.

It’s so warm in the kitchen, Alastor had the ovens on for cinnamon rolls and it smells heavenly. If Lucifer closes his eyes, he can almost imagine that Lilith is still here, that he hasn’t fucked it all up with Charlie yet. He dozes on the thick marble of the island, chest still twinging, but strangely at peace.

It’s another five minutes of warm silence before the clink of a plate beside his elbow rouses him. A warmth settles to his right.

Blinking his eyes open, Lucifer catches sight of Alastor looking at him. Through him, might be a better description of the action; his eyes rove, calculating over the planes of Lucifer’s face. Alastor isn’t frowning- he never frowns- but there’s a crease between his eyebrows. Maybe those are like wounds, too, they don’t heal they just transfer to another person. Maybe Charlie’s just transferred to him, like his wound had transferred to Lucifer.

Lucifer snorts to himself at his own little joke. The crease deepens.

“You were not at supper last night.” Alastor prompts, finally. Lucifer isn’t quite sure how that’s relevant right now.

“Yeah, and neither were you.” Check and mate. A bit of radio static pierces through the air at his quip. Lucifer smiles to himself, sitting up.

With the knowledge that he’s under scrutiny, he puts more work into affecting his usual trite joviality. Alastor simply raises a brow as he hands him a fork and gestures to the full plate in front of him. Lucifer is shocked still for a moment. Alastor made this food. He made it, and he’s giving some to Lucifer? Of his own volition? Lucifer takes a moment to rack his brain for any side effects of the siphoning that might make him act like this but the only possible explanation is the sheer adrenaline of relief, knowing you’re not dying anymore.

“You made this for me?” Lucifer asks, voice small. He can’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he ate anything. He doesn’t need to, not really, but it’s nice when there’s love in it. When someone takes the time to care about him in this way. Lucifer’s never found himself all too worth cooking for, and that’s most of the reason why he didn’t, in all those years spent alone since Charlie and Lilith leaving.

Alastor rolls his eyes.

“Obviously. It would be rude not to indulge, you know. So get to it!” His voice is filled with static, it takes a moment for Lucifer to parse his words. He takes the proffered fork and takes a small bite of the scrambled eggs. Father Almighty. They’re perfectly fluffy, well seasoned and just the right temperature! Lucifer can’t help the pleased sound that escapes him at the taste. He glances up at Alastor to find that his grin has turned smug. Whatever. Lucifer’s not going to lie to him.

“This is really good. Thanks.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Lucifer takes another bite before asking, “Do you want some? I know you haven’t been eating, either, and you probably need it more than me.”

Alastor’s eyes narrow and Lucifer gets the creeping feeling he’s let something slip.

“This is the second time you’ve referenced an invented affliction of mine. I would appreciate if you refrained from now on.” Alastor hisses, the air around the two of them practically sizzles with electricity.

‘Imagined’ hah! He wishes. Lucifer raises an eyebrow, he makes it too easy.

“You’re awful defensive for someone who supposedly didn’t have an affliction.” He drawls. Alastor’s eyes flicker green as he stands, abruptly.

“Put your dish in the washer when you’re done. I will see you another time.” He grits, stalking out of the room. It’s not until he leaves that Lucifer notices that he’d cleaned everything up. The sink is empty and the stove is spick and span. The only dish left is Lucifer’s plate and fork; he’d saved him a portion.

Lucifer does as told and hobbles up to his rooms with a smile on his face and a full stomach. Maybe this whole siphoning thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

***

This siphoning thing was such a fucking bad idea. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Lucifer curses to himself as he hobbles to the bathroom situated on the skywalk between his and Alastor’s rooms. His stitches had popped in the middle of one of his unfortunately timed yearly nightmares about falling. So, on top of the popped stitches, he’d scratched his arms bloody, too. Usually when he gets like this he doesn’t bother leaving his room, the cuts will heal themselves as soon as he gets to his door, anyway. But with the extra energy his body is expending on healing the Adam Wound, they just keep bleeding, sluggishly.

It’s been a couple days and the wound has been looking better, but it’s slow going. Lucifer shudders to think what would’ve happened to Alastor if he’d kept trying to live with it. Speaking of Alastor, the bastard’s been making him breakfast every day now; and if Lucifer doesn’t make it down during the hour he spends cooking, he sets aside a portion and puts it in the fridge.

Lucifer doesn’t know if this is his way of being nice, or if he’s luring him in to try and poison him one of these days. Either way, it’s always nice to be cooked for. Poison wouldn’t work on him, anyways.

There’s a pit in his stomach, growling and gnawing for something warm to satiate it- something Alastor-made- as Lucifer bleeds ichor onto the carpet. He pushes the feeling, and the resulting shame, down deep within himself. How low can he get, really? Fuck. Pining for kind gestures from a man who ostensibly wants to kill him? How far can he fucking fall.

The door to the restroom is open when he gets there, which Lucifer is all too thankful for. He pushes, with some effort, into the darkness.

A part of him considers turning on the light, but he has no issues seeing in the dark, and it seems like a lot of work to go through for no reason. With a groan, he bends down to grab the medkit from below the sink, then sits himself on the closed toilet.

With shuddering breaths, he snaps his shaking fingers, doubling over as his night shirt dissipates. “God- fuck!” He sucks a breath through his teeth.

Lucifer stays folded over for a moment, taking the time to breathe once, twice, before unfurling into a now familiar agony.

He grabs a hand towel and shoves it between his teeth to muffle any unwitting noises he might make- he’d found out the hard way that he’s a screamer a long time ago- and threads the suture needle with dental floss. He ran out of actual suture thread yesterday and, not wanting to alarm Charlie or let anything slip, hadn’t asked where he could find more. Dental floss has worked before, and it’ll work now. It just won’t be as pretty as it usually is.

Lucifer has just begun stitching himself up- letting little whines and whimpers into the hand towel tightly clenched between his teeth with each tug of the floss- when the door to the bathroom bursts open and a humming Alastor strides through the threshold. He flicks on the light- though Lucifer’s unsure why, as he doesn’t need it to see, either- and immediately makes eye contact with Lucifer. Then the hand towel clamped in his teeth. Then the giant bleeding wound on his chest. Then the eight golden scores in his arms.

His eyes widen a fraction, then narrow into a glare.

He strides up to Lucifer and grabs at his jaw, but the hold is surprisingly gentle. Alastor runs a finger along the area until it loosens enough for him to wrestle the towel from his lips.

Lucifer’s not sure if he should feel threatened or not. It’s not like Alastor can do anything to him. Not anything he hasn’t felt before, at least.

Why is the steel in his eyes so terrifying, then, though?

“Explain.”

Alastor says the word quietly, but somehow his voice seems to echo in the room. Lucifer sits tall, unwilling to be made ashamed of what he’s done. What he’s tried to do, to help.

“You never would have let me close enough to heal you through touch. You know that. And Charlie would have been devastated if you died because you were too much of an uptight prick to let other people care about you. This was the only way. I’ll heal. You wouldn’t.”

Lucifer’s voice is raspy, a little hoarse from the agony of the night. He has to clear his throat a few times during the monologue. Alastor stares at him through the entire thing, eyes burning against the side of his face. It’s silent for a while and Lucifer is acutely aware of the fact that he’s still bleeding.

“Now if you don’t mind, I have sutures to-” Alastor cuts him off with a vague scratch of radio static, “Give me the needle.”

Lucifer hesitates, so he repeats himself, enunciating each word.

“Give. Me. The. Needle.”

Lucifer does. He’s nervous for a moment- god knows why- but it’s like he’s been telling himself: Alastor physically can’t do anything to him that hasn’t already been done. He’ll be fine. Alastor pulls a stool from thin air and settles himself next to Lucifer.

He expects a sharp, focused pain. Tiny cruel little stabs done in excess to teach him a lesson about doing Alastor ‘favors’. But Alastor’s hands are warm and gentle against the golden shreds of his midsection. Each suture is measured and careful, he moves slowly through the motions and keeps a steadying hand against Lucifer’s side as he works. He does not look at him, though, entirely focused on the task at hand.

The gentleness is off-putting, and it makes something flighty bang around in Lucifer’s chest. He suddenly feels the urgent need to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Alastor. I should’ve asked but I was afraid it would take too long. I’m surprised you’re still alive now given the state the wound was in when I first transferred it.” Lucifer chuckles. Alastor does not join him. He babbles on.

“I don’t regret it, though. And I’d do it again if I needed to. I mean have you seen Charlie lately? She’s got the pep back in her step! And you, you’re up and cooking again. Everyone’s so happy you’re back in the apron.”

Alastor hums, finishing up the sutures on his chest and immediately moving to the deepest gashes on his arms. Lucifer is just about to protest- really, those ones will heal soon enough, they don’t need anything- when Alastor speaks.

“What about you?”

Lucifer cocks his head. Huh?

“What about me?” He asks.

Alastor chuckles, pressing some antiseptic into a different hand towel than the one Lucifer had been biting on and passing it over the- now sewn- cuts on his forearm. The sting barely registers. It’s so needless. It’s so wasteful.

“You speak of all of these benefits but I fail to see how any of them pertain to you. Aside from your obvious need for your daughter’s approval, of course.” He says.

That stings a little, which is strange because none of it is untrue. Of course he wants Charlie’s approval; it’s the fucking least he could do after everything he’s made her face alone.

Lucifer shrugs, pushing Alastor’s hands away when they try to tend to his other arm.

“What’s it matter? I don’t need the benefits to ‘pertain to me’, I don’t do anything for these people,” he spreads his arms around to emphasize his point, “not like you or Charlie do. Besides, I’ve been selfish enough already, don’t you think?” The gesture he makes this time is similar to before, but he points through the restroom door to the window that lines the skywalk. Moreso conveying the idea ‘see what my selfishness has already culminated into? Eternal damnation for millions of souls’. Alastor raises an eyebrow.

“And what would your daughter think of this… philosophy of yours?” His voice is low, and he reaches out to grab Lucifer’s arm back into his own grip. Still gentle, but firmer than before. Lucifer doesn’t fight him on it and his eyes light up at the success. That’s… oddly endearing for a murderer-cannibal.

Lucifer shrugs once more. He doesn’t really see the point Alastor is trying to make, he’s thought this through. He knows what he’s doing.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it? She’s never going to know and we’re going to keep it that way. She’s got a bleeding heart, probably got it from her old man,” Lucifer chuckles self-depreciatingly, “it wouldn’t do her any good.”

Alastor finishes with the last bandage- more unnecessary, needless waste on wounds that will heal tomorrow- and runs the antiseptic towel under warm water before wiping Lucifer clean of his own blood. His touch is just as light as it was before, it’s driving Lucifer insane. Why won’t he just hurt him already. He knows he’s itching for it.

“You are not what I thought you would be.” Alastor says, finally, tossing the towel into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. His eyes raise, finally, to meet Lucifer’s own shocked gaze. He can’t muster up a response; what is he supposed to say to that? Is it a good thing? Probably not. A bad thing? Well, then he doesn’t need more fuel for his ‘bad thoughts’ journal.

Thankfully, Alastor continues, “Next time, simply come talk to me. I don’t want this to happen again.” He stands, brushing imaginary dust off of his overcoat- which, now that Lucifer is paying attention, why is he still in his overcoat at three in the morning?

Lucifer snaps his fingers- now embarrassed by his own state of undress and reinvigorated by the tender touches- and rematerializes his nightshirt. Alastor levels him with a disapproving glare when he reels from the exertion.

“Now why did you go and do that? I could have gotten you a shirt, and then you wouldn’t be dizzy. Pity you’re so stubborn.” He comments, with just the slightest tinge of frustration. It thrills something in Lucifer to be able to get that reaction out of him, even in this diminished state.

“Yeah. Pity. Look, I’m not going to promise you this won’t happen again. I’m going to do what’s best for Charlie and this hotel, always.” Lucifer’s voice breaks a little at the latter end of the sentence, he can’t bring himself to meet Alastor’s eyes.

There’s silence for a moment, then a clawed finger flicks delicately at his chin, tilting his head up. Alastor sighs when he keeps his gaze low.

“Stubborn. I am not asking you not to do it- you were right, I probably wouldn’t have gone for the touch healing- I am asking you to do me the courtesy of checking first, before you act. Is that clear?”

Lucifer mulls over the words for a moment, considering his options. All in all it’s not a bad deal, and if this experience has taught him anything it’s that it’s nice to have someone in your corner, willing to help if you let them in. Charlie is in his corner, but she’s also his daughter, and it will never be her job to help him with anything for as long as he is alive. Alastor’s offering.

Lucifer nods, hesitantly.

“I can do that. Thanks.”

Alastor shakes his head before turning towards the door.

“Put some of the green tube on your chest wound every night before bed. If your arms don’t heal by tomorrow, add some there too. Don’t exert yourself. I’ll know if you pop your stitches again.”

And with that laundry list of care, he disappears into the night. Lucifer looks at the stitching on his chest, wondering if he was being serious, or if he was just bluffing about knowing.

Three cross stitches glow a neon green right next to each other in the middle of his chest “X X X”.

Ah, so that’s how. Sneaky bastard.

Still, though, Lucifer smiles all the way back to his room, and if he notices a shadow tailing him on his way there, he doesn’t say anything about it.

[blankdotcom]

Why I believe it makes the most sense for El to end up single (and why she was in a relationship in the first place)

To start off an analysis I like to just take a look at the internal conflict of a character because this explains lots of their actions. An internal conflict is a characters personal struggles with their fears or flaws. This internal conflict is not always resolved, but most of the times it is. Now before I say what I believe Elevens internal conflict is, even if I am accurate the writers might decide to not resolve this conflict for whatever reason, so just keep in mind that this is just a theory 👍

From what I’ve seen since Season 1 to Season 4, Elevens internal conflict has been been isolated from the world and lacking skills she would have and should have learnt at a young age (i’m sure there is an adjective that describes that but i do not remember so i’m sticking with that).

Eleven was thrown in a lab like an experiment ever since she was first born. She was isolated from the real world and stuck in a lab where she wasn’t treated like a real human but like a prisoner or patient. She never learnt how to communicate, read, or anything else a child should be learning, especially when they’re at school age. She had never seen outside.

So when she escaped the lab, that was the first time she saw the real world, and like any child who sees something they’re unfamiliar with, she was scared. All she ever knew was the lab.

So when she stumbles across a trio of boys and one of them takes her into his house for shelter, it’s pretty natural she grows dependent on him. And that just so happened to be Mike.

It was Mike who teaches her how to speak, gives her clothes, you know, treats her like a human being. But the thing is that wasn’t the norm to El, so this behaviour seemed wayyy above the standards. To her, he appeared to be treating her special. Expect Mike was just doing what he thought was right, what he thought was the standard.

Also, little reminder that Eleven never had friends, let alone a boyfriend. In fact, she didn’t even know what a friend was until Mike explained it to her, so I think it’s okay to assume she did not know the difference between platonic feelings and romantic feelings for someone.

And since Mike had helped her so much and because she depended on him so much for knowledge on things, whether that be social or just intelligence, she assumed what she felt was romantic.

I think where we can see this the clearest is in Season 3. In this season Eleven branches out in terms of friendship, creating a bond with Max.

The very moment Max starts to teach her independent thinking like “You make your own rules”, lets her have more freedom to explore on her own, like in the mall, give her comics (reading), she dumps Mike.

She does this because she doesn’t need him anymore, she doesn’t have anything to depend on him for, she can do it herself or get Max to help her.

Now I’m not saying El doesn’t actually love Mike, because you obviously form a bond with the person who saved you in the middle of the forest and took you in, what I’m saying is that it’s not romantic love, it’s platonic love.

This moment where she’s becoming independent could have resolved her internal conflict, but then she had to move states and with unfamiliar environments come old familiar habits, which in this case was getting back together with Mike.

But in Season 4 Eleven starts going to school, finally learning English, Math, etc. (I’d like to point out her struggle with making friends does contribute to what i speculate her internal conflict is). She also still has all the things Max taught her. So I think this is why Eleven was more comfortable fighting with Mike and standing up for herself, because she doesn’t depend on him anymore like she used to.

Now for Season 5, I honestly don’t know how this would play out expect for the fact she would end up single to resolve this internal conflict. How that happens? How she acts towards Mike? I have no clue👍 But I would love to hear other people’s opinions on this

[blackstarchanx3new]

FSR Rambles 21

Hah. Green seeing through Vio's eyes his past mistakes haha.

"Now, onto the human towns! We'll burn them all! Spread darkness to the horizons!"

True to his word that's what he did.

Vio is uh. Rather sickened by this.

Yeah blame it on altitude sickness Vio.

Riding on Shadow's lack of knowledge of humans was a good play though.

It's been awhile since we touched on Vio masking around Shadow to save his own ass. But dude had to have been going through it during these events. And I feel like if FS had a longer run time and a T rating we could have actually seen the affects of playing evil had on him.

It couldn't have been easy.

I just like the idea he struggled a LOT more than the og manga gives us any hints towards.

Like he said to Green in the previous flashback he had to watch Shadow no doubt MURDER people and stand by and do nothing.

That'd fuck with his head.

Yeah Vio's thoughts became consumed by how little he wanted to die.

I've always had the personal head cannon that he decided to shatter the mirror after the dragon ride SPECIFIFCALLY because he'd reached his limit on how much he could allow Shadow to do and just, stand by and watch.

He'd been complicate in almost killing Red and Blue, which would fuck with somebody enough.

Had to presumably face vaati in cannon (And in FSR actually did)

Like I've brought up a few times: Why would he even BOTHER making a plan with Shadow to free Zelda if he didn't intend to act on it? Literally outside of giving Shadow hope it served no real purpose...

UnLESS that was his plan but he couldn't follow through.

Which is what I personally go with here.

Vio just fully cracked. Being so stressed out he stress vomits oomf.

Poor guy. Still being consumed by the thought he needs to act normal after EVERYTHING he's been through.

Paralyzed with fear regret and self loathing Vio just crumbles to the floor.

His main thought here is that he doesn't HAVE to kill shadow if he can just hold onto the plan he made.

But as we'll see, his resolve is crumbling faster and faster.

Vio placed so much burden on his own shoulders he crumbled. Trying to do this mission entirely by himself utterly destroyed him.

Vio's been COMPLETLY ALONE here. As much as Shadow thought they were buddy buddy Vio could NEVER fully confide in him and has been ALONE since the forest. Perhaps things would be different if he had someone by his side who also knew of his plans. But he hasn't been able to be honest or had an outlet for all his feelings for DAYS now at least. Possibly longer.

I think I've ranted before about how HIS arc was about learning to lean on his team mates and I wanted to feed into that.

Except Vio doesn't really come to that conclusion now but rather decides he just needs to get out of this scenario right the fuck now.

Which is why since I'm trying to build off the manga: he acts VERY RASH.

Because imo that scene where he gets pissed is just, so badly written due to the manga's context and shit but I digress... (I don't like Tingle's inclusion much at all tbh he doesn't add literally anything to the story and instead fucks up Vio's arc. Bla bla I've went on this rant many times.)

It finally just hit him.

He's unable to keep this up.

As he steels his resolve to do what he's about to do.

Vio's monologue here really dips into how I think he'd end up in a LOT of denial.

He's just telling himself lie after lie to justify the situation he ended up in and his new choices he'll make.

And it all culminates to.

And we know the events of the manga haha.

I liked portraying just how desperate Vio was in these circumstances since again: I don't think the manga portrayed it at maximum capacity cause of the A rating and left most of it up to interpretation.

I like adding Vio's thoughts where we otherwise have no real clue what he was thinking at the time. It's a lot of fun. XD

"What's sitting on me"

More like WHO Green. XD

Apparently showing others things takes a bigger toll on Dark compared to just viewing it by himself.

He's very unenthusiastic even when saying "Yay Dark Link" XD

Green just, stares in utter horror soaking in everything he just witnessed through Vio's perspective.

Oh boy someone cracked like an egg.

Funny how your eye glitched there Green.

Dark Link's "Wtf is wrong with YOU?" Face never ceases to make me smile. Dude's so weirded out by Green just breaking here.

Green's self hating outburst is so jarring to Dark he tries to interrupt him.

Though Dark's nervousness could be for a LOT OF reasons:

He could just be genuinely shocked and worried for Green. Which I think is valid since Dark hasn't really seen someone act this way before.

But also, whenever anybody is angry (Vaati and Shadow): They tend to take it out on him physically.

Dark's reactions is straight up like "Fuck did I break him???" X'D

It's funny how much Dark's perspective on making them suffer has changed.

From delighting in Vio's terror to being disturbed at Green's mental breakdown.

Green's rant is pretty self evidently aimed at his own actions. Thinking he couldn't ever relate to what Vio went through, and considering himself worthless garbage which. oomf ouch buddy.

Dark does quite frankly the funniest things he could do by just, aggressively rubbing his face against Green's like a cat.

Mmm. Darkgreen.

Okay but seriously I just love these two's dynamic. XD

Green's practically BEGGING this "evil dude" to reprimand him and tell him he's an awful leader and horrible at everything he's tried to do and he's just NOT getting that energy from Dark at ALL.

Dark's made his thoughts on Green pretty clear, he thinks Green's a good hero even with his mistakes.

Specifically the fourth panel where he's got the star eyes you can really tell the dude has admiration for Green. XD

I just love Dark's face after Green blurts out that he doesn't do enough too.

It's like he had to really think about what he was going to say in response to that.

Usually when Dark thinks someone is wrong he'll call them stupid in some capacity, but here he takes a different route.

Dark's response is really, simple.

A genuine question.

"...When will it be enough Green?"

Dark's standards for what a hero are and what he deems a good hero or person are rather...tilted but he's accurately called out Vaati and Shadow for shit and he's not afraid to be brutally honest.

I think the brutal honesty of this statement is showing just how vacuous and large the shit Green has put on his own shoulders that he nor Dark know the end of what he's truly signed up for.

And that realization makes Green just break further.

Apologizing that he shouldn't even be able to confide in Dark someone who thus far hasn't even really complained about Green's breakdown at all.

Green's dialogue in the last panel is telling about how he's facing a lot of guilt in breaking down in front of Dark because technically: He should be protecting everyone FROM HIM.

He's breaking down in front of someone who's for all intensive purposes their ENEMY and their current biggest issue.

The guy Green has to decide whether or not to KILL.

And Dark's the one giving in his own way comfort to HIM.

This scenario from Green's perspective at least is all sorts of screwed up.

Poor baby's so stressed he reverts to his manga design

Green further goes onto say that telling Dark his insecurities was a mistake.

Which, is a fair thing to say lol. Dude essentially trauma dumped on Dark XDDD

Literally when I was drawing this scene I thought of this meme lmfao.

Which is awful but I have shitposter brain.

Smth I like about panel 3 & 4 is how Dark goes to wipe away Green's tears. Which is something Green did for him earlier.

Dark can and will reflect positivity if it's given to him.

People keep only feeding him negativity but Green showed him unconditional kindness and he gave it back.

I like how they have a positive effect on each other despite everything haha.

Again peeking into Dark's twisted idea of pain and pleasure.

He's just happy to be suffering WITH someone for a change. Misery loves company.

Green kinda asks a kinda dumb question here. But him asking if Dark feels "hurt" isn't a completely weird question...Like. This thing is a monstrous curse wearing your face it isn't far off to try to clarify some stuff. XD

Dark's response is just, kinda sad.

He's always suffering and always in pain.

Green's quick to try and play off his avoidance of an answer to Zelda and SHadow as Dark keeping him in the head space but ahhh...

Green buddy...You're choosing to stay here with Dark. XD

Dark's quick to point that out too lmfao.

I especially love how he immediately gets disapointed Green is saying smth stupid by asking if he "got hit with the same stupid" which just is a hilarious way to word saying something dumb.

I just like that he can flip from cute to intimidating evil guy in a blink of an eye. XDDD

So Dark's monologue here I got stuff to say haha.

Dark immediately isn't a fan of the idea of being by himself, by his continuous emphasis of being LEFT alone, "By MYSELF...ALONE" The idea Green would be abandoning him in some way if he left.

Also him just aggressively gripping green's face like he's trying to hold onto him in some capacity to keep him there. Oomf.

Often times Dark's "Evil villain" mannerisms like grabbing people isn't him being purposely space invading and sinister but his desperate subconscious pleas for SOMEONE to stay close to him. He's not going out of his way to make people uncomfortable.

He's so unintentionally stereotypically evil and I like that about him haha. He knows to an extent he's intimidating but isn't TRYING to be.

I think that's a fun contrast with Shadow who goes out of his way to invade people's space to MAKE them uncomfortable (like Vio in the woods hah)

Back to his dialogue. He points out Green doesn't want to leave either.

Which is true.

"Cause if you leave...you'll have to return to responsibility. Pretending the sorce of your problems is in the hands of some horrible demon that ensnared you... Instead of a product of your own misgivings and foolishness"

This is in reference to the here and now but ALSO when Green was hunted in the pyramid. He got himself into that situation too haha.

Dark referring to himself as a "horrible demon" shows that he's HIGHLY aware of how Green is perceiving him to a degree.

Green in a way wants to believe Dark Link is pure evil. Which would make the choice he has to make whether or not to spare him easier. Like Shadow said. if he was mindless this would be MUCH EASIER. It'd a a no brainer. But he's NOT and that results in a lot of pain over what to do about him.

A lot of Dark's questions have been rhetorical. He KNOWS Green is pretty much USING him right now to avoid responsibility and is KINDA fine with that?

He makes a light hearted (At least in his opinion) jab that Green's being selfish and taking up his time when he "promised" Blue earlier he'd spend time with him. (Which is funny considering time doesn't really exist here) Being visibly embarrassed Green in a round about way WANTS to spend time with him.

On the HORRIFYING realization about what Dark confessed to planning Green PANICS.

Reasonably he knows what Dark considers "Fun" even if he's not being outright malicious.

Also not so fun visual fact: Dark flinches when Green grabs him.

Which is just sad how he's just used to getting the crap kicked out of him that he fully expected Green to hit him.

Okay I'd be totally skimping out on dumb FSR facts if I didn't tell ya "Love like mine" wasn't a song I listened to on repeat while drawing this scene.

Very strong DarkGreen vibes XDDD "I'll make ya scream and I'll make you want it! You can be my ride or die" mmm delicious. Give more more. Finally some good fucking food.

Anyway page lol.

Dark realizing Green is holding his hand is just kinda cute. Like of course that's what he'd care about lmfao.

Meanwhile Green's full panicking about Dark confessing he was gonna go mentally fuck with Blue later. XDDD

Like dude's on his knees begging Dark not to, even offering to trade places.

I mean, what'd really be the difference after all?

He's gotta bear all the burdens...Doesn't he?

Link's put that pressure on him at least.

It kinda just shows how self punishing Green is at this point. Thinking he fucked up so bad he needs Dark to take it out on him.

Which isn't the POINT of what Dark does. Dark only really haunts them as a means to an end to keep them split and Vaati safe, but also as his own selfish desire to connect with them. Like how he spoke to Vio after Blue ran off.

Green seeking someone to hold him accountable for SOMETHING is just, oomf.

I think it's fun to dive into the idea Green REALLY doesn't know if Dark is faking being kind to him.

I mean, their biggest adversaries lied to them via transforming and using their loved ones MUTLIPLE TIMES. (Vaati shifting into Zelda, using their dad against them, even Vio 'turning' on them, trust would be something VERY HARD TO DO at that point I think.) Deception on the enemy's side isn't unexpected at all.

That he's hinging on the slightest chance Dark IS being genuine with him that he'll listen and not hurt the people he cares about. Whether or not Dark has Free will AT ALL.

He is a curse, it's not far fetched to think he just... CAN'T NOT do what he's designed to do.

Dark for his part is at first, contemplative.

Green's really showing just how AWFUL what he does to people is in a lot of ways. Dark has a certain cognitive disconnect in the sense he struggles to accept in a lot of ways how he truly affects Link.

Though reading Green's mind he distracts himself with "Lol wtf are you doing and what does it prove?" When Green makes the assumption that if he can change Dark's mind than he really is a person who can be reasoned with.

People can be reasoned with, mindless program following curses can not. UwU

Turns out begging is smth Dark's into lmfao so Green's pleading tickled a nerve.

I fucking love Dark's wrong word usage to describe things.

The idea Green WANTS HIM for him to STAY with Green just fills the guy with joy. Even if it's just because Green's being self hating and desperate to save his team mates.

Dark Link likes being wanted.

Green is WANTED by people, and being wanted by GREEN specifically just makes the guy just so happy.

And Dark struggles to really fully describe what he's feeling in the moment because genuine JOY isn't something this guy is getting very often.

Baby is so happy he cries.

Dark's just such a sad dude.

Expressing he's just happy Green cares about him. Mentioning Blue here too but Green is showing compassion for Dark in the sense he doesn't WANT to hurt him.

By HOPING for Dark to be able to be reasoned with, by wanting Dark to be someone he could talk to he IS caring about Dark's safety which isn't smth the dude has gotten from ANYONE ELSE so far.

he even confides he wishes he could stay with Green forever and just be happy with him which is just all sorts of sad.

Ooomf these pages fuck me up man.

Dark LOVES the idea of being with Green. Someone he not only idolizes but the ONLY person so far who has given a single solitary shit about him.

He's so lonely and SO sick of being a conduit for sadness that this sounds infinitely more appealing to him. (Who could blame him lmfao)

Smth to note is how Green is kinda hesitant to fully wrap his arms around Dark Link until it truely sets in for him that Dark truly is just a sad lonely individual who's in a lot of ways a fellow victim as well.

Dark being the one to push Green away, to reject the idea they'd just stay together is pretty telling.

He HAS to "Work"...If he doesn't...

The thought of Vaati dying is just, too distressing for Dark to even fully consider abandoning his mission to do something he'd personally like better.

I just, LOVE the dialogue in panel 3 here.

It's so blatantly ignorant in it's childishness but honest.

It's the kind of thing a child would say about their divorced parents or something lmfao.

Just a simple want without thinking of the greater picture that goes with things and WHY things are the way they are.

Dark Link just can't fathom why the people he loves have to hate each other so much. Why they can't just "get along".

Why he has to work at all.

It's just Dark being bluntly honest about how he feels about this entire situation.

Unlike Green, in the final panel Dark finally steels what little resolve he has and states "I don't wanna do anything either...but I have to"

Both are EXAUSTED and at their wits ends and that's smth I like to this dynamic.

If either were more set in fighting each other they'd both BE fighting. For all intensive purposes THEY SHOULD BE.

But because they're both so exhausted they're actually able to talk about how they feel.

Dark once again compares Zelda to Vaati.

In how his devotion is similar to Link's devotion to Zelda.

Protecting Vaati IS what is most important to him.

And he knows he's doing something wrong on SOME level because he apologizes to Green. His hat curled against him defensively.

Green is once again in panic mode since what little leverage he had is slipping through his grasp as Dark steels himself against Green's attempts at persuading him.

Also Green lmao Dark has big dick back pain disorder watch were you grab him-

But he does make a good point in his frantic pleads.

Protecting Vaati doesn't necessarily mean hurting them...

That was Dark's approach as a mindless curse...but now that he is a person with a sense of morality, a sense of heroics. Will he still abide by that strategy?

Green's frantic ramblings are just funny as hell but also his diplomacy should get a sticker or smth. Dude's fighting for his life rn. XD

Dark starts to crack under Green's onslaught of LOGIC.

Smth I like to add to that is how Dark's hair faded out of being green while he talked about his feelings before but switches BACK to being green as Green talks.

And then he rejects it to think for himself for a second to really ponder Green's words.

My favorite bit of his "STFU" dialogue is just to tell Green to "STOP MAKING SENSE!!!" which is so funny to me.

SO much about Dark's original purpose has been thrown out of whack due to the progression of things. Vaati's demands are rather nonsensical.

He comes to the realization that things HAVE changed and he needs to adapt accordingly.

To some extent: Dark is just COMPELLED to act heroic and he even considers himself failing in the regard that he's been NOT acting heroic lately.

The more Dark becomes sentient. The more he feels the need to act heroic. Which is curious.

Green's diplomacy worked Yippieeeee!

Also Dark's hair continues to be grey here which imo was always just to show these really were his own thoughts and he wasn't just mimicking Green.

Dark's willing to "Try" things Green's way.

Smth I like is his act of making a pinky promise with Green. Smth just so blatantly childish in it's innocence.

But Green's compelled to believe him due to just how dang excited the dude is to give it a try.

Lmfao. Him acknowledging up front he's not sure how well things will go is just extra "Dark trying to be honest" flare. Which I find fun. He's willing to try his best but won't lie and pretend it'll go perfectly. XD

Green framing Dark going to get Blue as "A mission" was simultaneously stupid as fuck but also smart idea. XD

He doesn't know where Blue ran off to...but DARK LINK DOES.

And Since Dark was going to speak to Blue anyway, might as well tell him to bring him home. XDD

On the other hand: Trusting Dark Link is probably a bad idea. XDDD

Green's gambling hard but doesn't have much of a choice.

Green adding on "I'm trusting you" while looking Dark in the eye is just the cherry on top.

MMMGH I wanna continue ranting but we reached the image limit.

[viburnt]

At that point, I feel the only option is to just leave without notice after several attempts to talk to him. send the divorce papers through his secretary, bet that’s only way to get him to pay attention. IT would be DISAPPOINTING HE doesn’t noticed until like a day after or more 💀😭

Rina, RINA, YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABOUT THIS! I'm already working on the divorce headcanons but I like this so much I'll throw in a couple about that brief time before you actually serve him papers.

The time before you resolve a divorce is the best course of action is short; it almost feels right to say it, even if your heart aches. You look back at all those empty years being by Izuku's side, but you can't find a memory of him standing with you. It felt like a silent movie where you'd been acting the role of the ideal wife, pretending to be happy for the cameras, not allowed to say a thing.

Sadly, being married to Izuku isolated you a lot. Your friends and family had distanced themselves from you because you never had time to visit or hang out, not to mention they'd found the news reporters and the cameras too bothersome to even dare to approach you. So with the little strength you had left, you had to sort out this whole situation by yourself. One benefit of being alone most of the time was that your soon-to-be ex couldn't quite tell you were scheming to leave him.

You began searching for places to rent, looking for jobs that offered home-office, and even checking the finances. Most of the things around the house were under Izuku's name, and you didn't want anything from him. Specially not when it would entertain more gossips or give people the wrong impression.

Izuku would come home late or not at all, too tired to even notice half of your wardrobe was gone, and that you spent a lot of time outside the house. He'd just kiss you goodnight and sleep, blissfully ignorant of the reality. You'd slip away from him and crash on the couch, trying to detach your heart from the feelings you still sheltered for him.

Part of you wished he would notice the way you were drifting apart, the way you crumbled in a marriage built of empty expectations and false promises. It was wishful thinking, a pipe dream that could never become true. Izuku had caught you between a rock and a hard place, and he'd only learn that after the damage was visible.

When you are finally ready for the legal battle, you send the papers to Izuku's office. His secretary passes them to him, probably thinking it's just more paperwork, and in the same way his secretary did, Izuku simply assumed it was more work to do. Midoriya placed the yellow envelope on top of a stack of pending documents, deciding to check them later.

The face of realization he has once he finally reads the contents of said envelope is almost priceless. 2 days had those documents waited for his eyes to read, 2 full fucking days to notice you were asking for a divorce. He was hysterical, making phone calls and sending texts to no avail; you weren't answering, and you weren't even living in that house at that point. He felt like an idiot, and that was only the beginning of the end.

'The number you're trying to reach is currently unavailable, please try later to-'

"Ugh, just answer dammit!" Izuku yelled, throwing his phone to the wall in desperation. He had rushed out of his office to try and find you, just then noticing the emptiness of the things you'd taken with you. The only thing you left behind was your wedding ring, standing cynically on the bedside table along with the framed photo of your wedding day. Tears rolled down his freckled cheeks, not being able to grasp reality. You were really leaving him, and his stupid ass was so busy to even notice it.

"I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry..." He sobbed in the silence of his bedroom, your perfume haunting him as he held your pillow.

Izuku had fucked up bad.

[sephirothsplaything]

DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 14

A/N:Nooo Rhaella! Please don't project your obsessive/avoident attachment style onto Jace because you miss Aemond!!

This is the story of Lady Rhaella Targaryen; the strange one and her role in the Dance Of Dragons. Loved by few and feared by many.

The blood of the dragon runs in Targaryen's veins. Something else runs in Rhaella.

BLACK TARGARYEN OC/READER

PARINGS: Aemond, Cregan,slight Jace, slight Addam,original character.

Read the last chapter here!

"I should have been there," Jacaerys grumbled. 

Rhaella looked up to the starry skies in silence. She was still reeling from her brush with death. How the weight of her dagger felt lighter when she found the resolve to kill again. 

It was quite perplexing. The thought almost made her smile.

Jace had found himself outside to where Rhaella had stashed herself away. She did not particularly mind his presence, so long as he kept quiet. But here he was, ranting away.

"Are you listening?" Jace asked. Rhaella nodded. Jacaerys was angry, rightfully so. But more than anything he wished to act, to fly his dragon and turn their enemies to ash.

"It was a bold scheme, I admit," Rhaella says finally. Jace rolled his eyes in response. 

"Such stupidity could only come from Aegon, I'm sure." He said.

"Criston Cole had a likely role." Rhaella comments. It was not so long ago that he had blocked her from leaving Alicent's company. There was so much hatred in his eyes.

"If my mother only allowed me to be of use." Jace ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Rhaella scoffed. Was he truly this short-sighted?

"You lack experience, your dragon is young," Rhaella states bluntly. Jace turned fully to face her. His cousin was an enigma, for sure. He could not comprehend how she was content with watching and waiting.

"You could claim a dragon or even an egg," Jace said. 

"I am trying,it is not so easy." Rhaella snapped. He couldn't understand, his dragon was born to him. Rhaella was shown no such favor.

Recognizing he had struck a nerve in her, Jace drew back instantly, eyes softening.

"I meant no harm by it," Jace reassured. Rhaella shrugged his words off, it meaning little and less.

"I am not your betrothed, you need not consider my feelings," Rhaella scoffed.

Jace parted his lips to speak, but Rhaella's icy voice cut him off once more. She felt compelled to continue.

"You wish for vengeance, it is unbecoming of you," Rhaella said. 

Jace observed Rhaella's state. It was as if she hadn't been attacked merely hours ago. Her serene demeanor was nearly terrifying. Like she had since made up her mind about something.

"Was Luke not worthy of vengeance?" Jace asked. Rhaella's steely purple eyes hardened. She misliked when her words were misconstrued.

"War is sweet to those who have never fought," Rhaella said. The words were for Jace as well as herself. A poor attempt to calm her own bloodlust.

"My mother holds back, it unravels us all," Jace countered. Rhaella shook her head.

"She is strategic in her wait, you are too blind to see it."

The two cousins were quiet for a moment. The warm Dragonstone breeze passed over both of them.

"Aemond will not stop, and neither shall I," Jace concluded. Rhaella tensed at the sound of his name. Hard as she might try, Aemond's letter was still occupying space underneath her pillow.

"Alright then, promise me this," Rhaella said. "You are the heir to the throne, and my sister will be your queen."

Jace's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He could not follow.

"Take all your spite and sorrow, give it to me so that you may think clearly," Rhaella said.

"I would not dare place that burden on you cousin," Jace said.

"I can take it, you cannot." Rhaella resolved. Jace's anger would cloud his logic, and if Rhaella were to instill her plans inside of him, she could not have his foolishness getting in her way. His claim was much too important.

"Agreed, but I ask something from you in return."

Rhaella's eyebrow raised. She was unsure if she was in any mood to entertain this.

"Let us help each other keep our wits about us, I know you long to act as well," Jace said.

So he had been paying attention. All the subtle twitches in Rhaella's mostly melancholic face. Twitches of rage and passes of darkness. Jace had indeed seen it all.

Rhaella was not so alone as she thought. 

"Fine," Rhaella said, almost in a whisper. She resigned, hoping he would not disappoint her.

Jace stood up, stretching out. He offered his hand to Rhaella.

"The hour has grown late, shall I walk you to your chamber?"

………………..

THE MORROW CAME. Astris had scrubbed Rhaella raw and brushed out her curls into oblivion.

"You could be more gentle," Rhaella muttered. She watched Astris dart back and forth gathering her clothes for the day.

"Mayhaps, but now you look more like a lady!" Astris retorted. Holding out a towel, Rhaella wrapped it around herself.

"I never thought much of my looks." Rhaella sat on a stool as Astris began to work through her hair. Her mother would tell her that she was pretty, but Rhaella figured she was more or less obligated to do so.

Astris formed Rhaella's silver curls into a braided style more elaborate than she was used to. The braids tapered off into thick curls that fell to her waist. 

"I could not know why, you have quite a lusty figure," Astris commented cheekily. It made Rhaella's cheeks grow warm.

"If you are finished with your jests, I would like my gown," Rhaella said.

Astris helped Rhaella slip into her gown, it was a fine thing indeed. A red and black dress with a form-fitting corset with long sleeves that flowed down.

"What did you and the prince discuss last night?" Astris asked, adjusting the corset.

"I simply advised him to not be a fool," Rhaella responded. Astris giggled, leaning into her.

"And here I thought it would be something of note."

Rhaella turned to face her, purely unamused. "Today you are full of jokes, I see."

Astris shrugged, a small smirk on her face. "I had nearly forgotten what your preferred taste in men is."

She was relentless today, likely bored. Rhaella dismissed Astris from her chamber, turning back to look at her reflection. She felt like a pretender.

When Rhaella entered Rhaena's room, she found that Baela was already there.

"Sudden change in wardrobe?"Baela said. Rhaella made herself comfortable on Rhaena's couch.

"Astris insisted, overwhelmingly so," Rhaella said. Rhaena's eyes sparkled at the sight of her sister, despite her own sullen face.

"What is it?" Rhaella asked. Rhaena sighed, her hands restless with one other.

"Her grace is shipping me off to the Vale with Joffery, Viserys, and Aegon," Rhaena said.

"Perhaps it is for the best," Baela said, holding Rhaena's hand. She scoffed in response.

"Yes away from everything else, I shall play the nursemaid," Rhaena said bitterly.

"You'll have our father to thank for that," Rhaella said. Since his mistake..as he called it occurred, The queen rightfully feared that the greens may take action against her youngest.

"I hate him, sometimes," Baela admitted, reluctantly. For Rhaella, it was a common feeling she held since she was a girl. Despite her loathing, she found herself missing her father.

She would not dare voice the thought.

"The queen trusts you with them the most, she knew better than to send me," Rhaella said. Joffery seemed to prefer Rhaena to herself whilst Aegon and Viserys were always occupied by a maid. 

"She keeps you and Baela because of the dragons," Rhaena said.

Baela sighed again. Rhaella knew the feeling all too well. A Targaryen without a dragon was like a knight without a sword.

"If it is of any commiseration, Aegarax still refuses me," Rhaella said. 

"He is wild, give it time," Baela said. But in truth, time was little and less on their side. War was at their doorstep and Rhaella was annoyingly vulnerable.

"Right," Rhaella murmured to herself.

"The queen has asked me to keep watch over Kings Landing," Baela stated.

A poorly timed thing to say, Rhaena and Rhaella glanced at each other in agreement.

"Is that safe? So close to the city?" Rhaena asked.

"I shall stay high," Baela said confidently. Rhaella greatly doubted her sister would follow the queen's instructions so closely. And what if she fell upon one of the Greens dragons?

Her stomach turned at the thought.

"Moondancer is small, she will not be noticed so easily," Rhaella said instead.

Baela gave Rhaena a reassuring hug. Rhaella simply observed passively. 

"Come to the council meeting with me Rhaena," Rhaella suggested. She had grown tired of not having Rhaena by her side.

The two girls ventured to the Stone drum, the center of Dragonstone. Baela headed to the dragon pits in preparation.

Each sister took their place by the table. Jace glanced at Rhaella, eyeing the dress she wore.

"Is that new?" Jace whispered. Rhaella turned her head slightly in acknowledgment.

"Why?" Rhaella asked, a small smirk gracing her face. "Do you wish to trade clothes?"

Jace sighed in resignation before averting his attention back to the matter at hand.

"How fares Prince Daemon with our army?" Ser Alfred asks. The queen Rhaenyra seemed to physically coil at the question. She had grown weary at the mention of him, as had Rhaella.

"There has been no word, your grace." One of the maesters says. Rhaella glanced at Rhaena. Their father was practicing avoidance, as usual.

"Then we must send out all the dragons, overturn the Greens strongholds." Ser Alfred urges. 

He was often quick to speak out of turn, forgetting his place. But Rhaella did not exactly disagree. Had it been up to her, she would have done away with the greens army ages ago.

If only Aegarax would let her, that was.

"If dragons begin fighting dragons we only invite our own destruction," Rhaenyra said.

Rhaella's hand twitched at her side. 'All power demands sacrifice'

Ser Alfred chuckled bitterly in response. Jace's hand hovered atop his sword. Rhaella nudged him with the heel of her shoe. Slowly, he brought his hands back to either side of him.

"But your grace," Another lord spoke. "You have witnessed first hand how exposed you are."

Ser Alfred hummed in agreement. " Had Ser Erryk not arrived, you and the lady Rhaella would have been slain."

Quite the opposite, Rhaella had felt. Perhaps she would have sustained injuries, but she would have the two eyes of the invader clutched in the palm of her hand before the fact.

If only Ser Erryk had waited a while longer.

"Perhaps you should flee to somewhere safe, whilst we remain here." Lord Celtigar suggested.

"She shall do no such thing." Rhaella hurled out before she could control herself.

For watching the queen struggle amongst these idiots caused her patience to wain greatly. Why was she allowing such a thing, Rhaella could hardly understand.

"That would be treason, you are lucky you took it no further." Queen Rhaenyra said.

She stood up to leave abruptly, likely to her chambers. There was not much else for her to do.

"That concludes it, I suppose," Jace mutters out. Rhaella had grown bored of this routine.

"Come sister, let us ready your things." She said to Rhaena.

……….

RHAELLA WATCHED as Tyraxes and Stormcloud were ushered out in their crates. Rhaena held a look of nausea.

"It will be fine." Rhaella tried to assure her, although her flat tone was less than.

Baela walked up to them, embracing Rhaena.

"You have not left yet?" Rhaella asked. 

Baela shot Rhaella a look. "And miss Rhaena leave? I think not."

Rhaena grasped the hands of Baela. Rhaella stood off, a small pang of bitterness stirred within her. If only she could allow herself to be so free with affections.

"Go safely, sister." Baela wished.

"I will be safe enough," Rhaena said sharply. Rhaella crossed her arms,opting to keep her gaze on the young dragons.

"I'm sure you will be well-liked in the Vale." Rhaella said.

Baela hummed in agreement. "You may find yourself glad to be out of harm's way," Baela said.

It was not so condescending, but Baela could not understand. Such was the privilege of one born to a dragon.

"Do not coddle me Baela," Rhaena said bitterly. Baela looked to Rhaella for help but found no such relief.

"You do coddle, often in fact," Rhaella said shrugging.

"But I meant no insult," Baela said sincerely. She turned her head to the dragon egg chamber. "And here, I think is some consolation."

The sisters joined Queen to Rhaenyra by them. There, presented were four eggs each of them varying in color.

"But should all come to ruin, you shall bear our hope for the future," Rhaenyra said.

Rhaella stared at the eggs. In truth, she thought she had fed the last of Syrax's clutch to Aegarax.

'Ice and Fire' Rhaella felt a sharp pain in her head, causing her to hiss. She did not need to think too hard as to what had caused it.

"Are you alright?" Jace asked gently. Rhaella took a slight step back. 

"Ice and fire." She muttered. Jace frowned, stricken with confusion. Rhaella had once again returned to her strangeness.

Baela and Rhaena hug once more, a final goodbye. It was unclear when they would see each other again.

Rhaena hugged Rhaella as well, pulling her from the daze she was in.

"I shall miss you," Rhaella said. Rhaena's eyes watered.

"Then grant me this one favor," Rhaena said. Rhaella looked to Rhaena expectantly.

"Burn the letter, should longing become your enemy."

But how could Rhaella tell her that it already had? She would hold it in her hand for hours at a time before she drifted off to sleep.

"As you wish," Rhaella said. A lie.

When Rhaena and their young step-siblings had left, Rhaella went back to the topic of the previous council.

The queen was in an impossible situation. It was agony to be left in the dark as to what the Greens were plotting. 

Rhaella misliked not knowing things. A thought crossed her mind. Perhaps she could yet be useful to her grace—dragon or not.

"Your grace!" Rhaella sped up her pace to keep up with Rhaenyra. The queen turned to her. In all honesty, Rhaenyra was shocked that Rhaella was speaking to her. She had a thought that the girl fully resented her.

"Rhaella?" Queen Rhaenyra said. "Wha-."

"I wish to speak to you, it is urgent," Rhaella said hurridly

Rhaenyra led Rhaella into her chambers. Rhaella folded her hands in front of her, confident in her actions.

"You look quite pretty, might I say." Queen Rhaenyra commented. Rhaella tried to smile but it came out like a grimice.

"I have a proposition," Rhaella said. Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow.

"We are maintaining the blockade with my grandsire's fleets, are we not?" Rhaella asked.

Rhaenyra nodded. "It has been a great help."

Rhaella eyes down the multiple books on the side table, open to the pages of Queen Visenya.

"Visenya had a brilliant mind for warfare," Rhaella said. She did not shy away from the most bloodiest of affairs. It was admirable.

"I had hoped to draw inspiration possibly," Rhaenyra said.

Rhaella herself preferred the black bride, Rhaena Targaryen.

"Use the hunger of the smallfolk as a weapon," Rhaella suggested. "The people of Kings Landing are surely starving."

"That would be too cruel." Rhaenyra shook her head. Frustrated, Rhaella shut the book with a thud.

"No, it would be war," Rhaella responded. How could the queen not see a golden opportunity right under her nose?

Rhaenyra looked at Rhaella for a moment. Such a soft face, she had. Words of viciousness leaving her mouth was quite jarring to witness.

"What would you then?" Rhaenyra resided. "If you were placed in my position."

'Surround the red keep with all of our dragons.' Was the first thought that crossed her mind.

"Infiltration, someone who could be overlooked," Rhaella said. "There is much risk with multiple spies, it is better to send a single formidable one."

"And who would you propose?"Rhaenyra asked.

"Astris, my own handmaid."Rhaella could not think of anyone better suited for the task.

"No." Queen Rhaenyra shot her offer. 

"She is swift and meticulous," Rhaella argued. "Astris served the prince of Pentos before her servitude to me."

Rhaenyra considered this. She had never seen Rhaella so sure of anything.

"And you trust her, wholeheartedly?" Rhaenyra asked. Rhaella's eyes softened at the mere thought of her.

"It was she along with Mysaria who aided in my escape," Rhaella said.

"Help me see your plan then," Rhaenyra said. Eager, Rhaella sat down.

"Let Astris keep check on Aegon and the rest," Rhaella said. "She can report back anything that might be of use."

Rhaenyra hummed. "It is dangerous." 

"I am confident she can handle it, Aegon is little challenge," Rhaella said. Her hand twitched by her gown. Her true worry lay with Aemond, Astris would need to avoid him.

"And if something was to happen?" Rhaenyra asked.

"I shall take full responsibility, and act accordingly," Rhaella assured.

Queen Rhaenyra stood, smiling softly at Rhaella. It warmed her to see Rhaella so expressive,as it was so unlike her.

"You have your mother's mind, I think," Rhaenyra said. Rhaella blinked, averting her gaze to the floor. She could not know how to reply

The queen Rhaenyra moved past the silence. "Ensure you prepare Astris properly, I shall make arrangements."

.............

The boat was made ready for Astris's departure at dusk. The time had come and Rhaella's anxieties ate away at her.

The two girls stood in the outer corridor. Rhaella was sending her closest friend off to the vipers, and to what end? Gratification? She could privately admit this was both reckless and selfish.

Astris seemed to sense her lady's unease. Gently, she grabbed Rhaella's shaky hand.

"I can handle myself well enough, you know that," Astris said. Rhaella knew it, as she knew very well what Astris could do.

"You could still be hurt," Rhaella said softly. 

Astris smiled in response, a deep blush coloring her cheeks. "The Gods shall watch over me."

Rhaella scoffed. The Gods?

"I want you to make note of any green council member with influence," Rhaella said. In addition, she had entrusted Mysaria with maintaining communication. Rhaella wished to know every detail in the Red Keep, down to the gossip of maids. She was uniquely interested in Aemond's daily routine as well.

"Yes, my lady," Astris said. Rhaella's lips twitched into a smile. 

"Be wary of Aegon, he is a cunt," Rhaella added.

Astris raised a dark brow. "I shall do my best."

The boat sails dropped, ready to venture into the waters.

"Will you be alright, my lady?" Astris glanced at Rhaella. The energy surrounding Rhaella had not subsided, it merely seemed to increase. It was all too apparent that the Targaryen's girl mind was beginning to fracture.

"We shall see," Rhaella said. 

Astris began to leave with a small curtsy, but before she went any further, Rhaella pulled her in, placing a firm kiss on her lips.

"I need you to do whatever is necessary," Rhaella whispered to her. The Black haired girl looked at her with wide eyes. Astris understood her lady completely and would act accordingly.

Rhaella watched her leave, a feeling of emptiness swallowed her. She walked along the outer courts of Dragonstone, wondering if this was a fool's plan.

In the distance, the roars of a dragon could be heard. Aegarax's distinct calls shot right through her.

Maybe he was upset she had neglected to visit him with a dragon egg. It had been some time since Rhaella had seen him.

Rhaella's walk to the dragon mount seemed shorter this time around. Looking up to the caves, she began to climb. It was only when she had ventured halfway up did she she a tall figure above her.

She cursed, nearly losing her footing. What person would be daring enough to find themselves in a wild dragon's cave?

Rhaella was not too worried though, whoever was there would surely meet their end. The discontented roars of Aegarax only grew louder.

"Lykirī, Aegarax!" Rhaella tried but to no avail. She looked around for the intruder once more but found nothing that could irritate the dragon.

Whatever High Valyrian she spoke had almost no effect. Aegarax crawled out of the cave, on full display to Rhaella. His black scales reflected the moonbeams present.

"Skoros iksos ziry?" Rhaella said in a hush.'What is it?' Aegarax settled into a grumble, his head was restless.

Slowly, Rhaella reached out her hand to him. But she was met with an open-mouthed roar, causing her to jerk back immediately.

Taking cover, Aegarax took flight from the cave and into the skies. Away from her and with him he took the hopes of progress.

Perhaps it was one great jest. She had kidded herself into truly believing she had achieved something of significance. 

Forever dragonless, a false Targaryen.

[wouriqueen]

IWTV S2 finale - General thoughts

Hmmmmmmm okay so. Top notch episode until the official end of the interview.

Post Daniel ending the session... eeeeeeh. I was disappointed. My fears about how they were going to wrap it all up ended up being founded :/ Maybe this is just because it's a first watch but Idk. The things I enjoyed were:

Jacob Anderson thank you for this 15 episodes of excellent acting, your performance will always be a classic in my house.

watching Louis be happier - I love him enough for that haha

Daniel's ending was satisfactory to me, aside from the fact that I feel we should have seen his turning for his arc to feel complete, again we needed another episode.

Here's what I didn't like or still need to think about under the cut.

No time to see Louis process the reveal + break-up. I didn't hate his reaction, though it only makes sense if he suspected it in the back of his mind, which I maintain he must have a little. The issue? We don't even see him process 77 years of Armand lying about choosing him and being sad about Claudia and/or 77 years of him lying to himself. Not even a montage. Despite the fact that it was 77 YEARS. And that seconds before Daniel threw the bomb Loumand were falling back into fond reminiscing.

Armand taking "going with the flow" to the extreme. This one might be a matter of my own competence but I don't... get it? I understand he's a character who gaslights himself into believing he can't change things. I understand he's someone who derives his own identity from serving a person or a purpose, from playing a role, and clearly is too terrified to step outside of them. But the fact he didn't take ANY independent significant step throughout the Paris era is something I'm going to have to sit with. Did he do all that because he believed Louis couldn't get rid of the coven without his help, aka without him taking action, and since he doesn't do that, everything else was an inevitability? I think what's jarring to me is that this means he never actually chose Louis in any capacity that mattered. I know he loved him but. ??

The whole Lestat thing... absolutely unearned. I just could not care because it wasn't resolved. We don't get answers about his presence at the trial. If he wasn't coerced, I don't get his defending Claudia on stage. Are we supposed to believe he only felt remorse when she looked to him for help? Sounds insane. And if he was coerced, we should have been told here. Because I can't believe Louis just... not asking these questions. Time heals, but I don't see how Louis can skip to forgiveness without any explanations given.

The "equal wrongs" vibe of the Louis and Lestat's convo. Lestat apologized for the drop, but not for everything else. As for Louis' thanks, we have seen nothing to explain this sudden appreciation for the gift. And even of we say it's been a gradual process, at the end of the day, him saying he didn't realize vampirism was a "gift" doesn't make sense because back in 1910s he was a Black man in Jim Crow America! And the gift could certainly not do for him what it's doing now! He was also losing his family in real time, which while perhaps inevitable, wasn't something he could have just chosen to not feel anything about...

Claudia. I also didn't like Louis' speech about Claudia's turning, because while factually true, the way it was written and the emphasis on "saved her from a fire only so she could die in the light" felt like he was falling in line with the whole "she shouldn't have been made "anyway". Turning her was a sin but it wasn't the only one perpetrated against her. And maybe I'm being too hard here because that's a line fandom has used, "it's sad but she shouldn't have been made", as if that diminishes the weight of the wrongs done to her. As if these vampires had any right to decide in advance that she would not make it and then make the time she did have on Earth a living hell. "It's not all on you" Louis you still haven't asked him why he was there????

Louis saying "I own the night" Wouldn't the vampires threatening him be old of part of other covens? Has he gotten strong enough from Armand's blood + Magnus' blood for that? Out of context, that was weird.

We don't see Daniel turning. Again I know we lacked time, but it would have made his arc come full circle. Especially with how present the topic of his death was in the last episode.

[mymistakewriting]

Dynamic Conversations - Bobby & Owen

Once again prompted by @happilylovingchaos , this is a dynamic that I do have some thoughts on despite the fact that they've never met. However, just because these two haven't met doesn't mean I don't have plenty to say about the two of them.

First and foremost, as usual, please don't take anything I say in this post as me bashing on a character. I have complicated opinions on the characters, yes, but I've formed those thoughts and opinions based off watching and rewatching and taking notes. If you don't agree with my thoughts, great! You don't have to interact with my posts if you plan to try to pick a fight over it. And finally, equally important: this post comes with content warnings. Please head them and tread carefully. Your mental health matters far more to me than my content being consumed.

Trigger Warnings: mentions of addiction, child neglect. Basically, if anything Bobby or Owen has ever said or done sits with you weird, maybe skip this post.

First, the question posed to me: if they were to meet, how would they handle the differences in how they identify and resolve crisis situations? The short answer? I think they'd split the response up so that they handle it easier with as little conflict as possible. It's shown several times that Owen works well as a pair with another Captain thanks to the divide the 126 has with there being a Fire Captain and a Paramedic Captain. And Bobby already lets his team make calls that go against his orders if they can back up their reasoning after the emergency is handled. They'd make a damn good team on any emergency call thanks to that, especially if it was a interstate emergency.

And now for the rest of my thoughts about these two.

First of all, just based on timeline alone? There's every chance that Bobby met and acted as a support for TK when Gwyn put him on a plane and sent him to LA for rehab back in 2017. Bobby was already in LA (he lost his family in 2014), and he's definitely the kind of person (confirmed in-show) to volunteer at rehabs and outpatient care as a mentor, as someone who's been there and can offer insight as to what recovery might look like instead of all of it being on nurses and doctors who haven't personally experienced recovery from alcohol or drugs.

Second, I think Bobby followed up with Owen over a call after the wildfires because his three gremlins came back with stories to share. Of course he's going to want to know what happened and he would definitely call Austin's fire department to get patched through to Owen for that. Especially when one of the firefighters he sent was Buck.

Third, and this is going to be the one that I think people will fight me on: Owen's the better captain, Bobby's the better father. And I can explain EXACTLY why I think that.

Owen and Bobby have similar Captaincy styles where they step back and let their teams take the reigns sometimes based off who has more experience with certain calls - except Bobby doesn't do that with all of his team, he still isolates Buck because "he's not ready" even on calls that Buck's knowledge base would work well on. Buck runs a single emergency call, and it's only because him and Ravi are the only two still standing. Owen doesn't hold his son back the same way, encouraging him to not only switch from firefighter under his care to paramedic under Tommy's care, but lets him make calls on the field that Bobby would never have allowed Buck to make (the minefield call in Lone Star? Yeah, that's the one I'm talking about here.)

Bobby, despite not being Buck's actual father, still treats him like his kid. He fusses, they spend time together outside of work, they talk about things unrelated to work or anything professional. Bobby's by his side every time he's in a hospital bed. Plus if May or Harry are in trouble? Papa bear Bobby mode activates. Those are his kids and he'd do anything and everything to protect them. Owen..... well, Owen tries. But between "I'm going to be a dad" said to his own son, abandoning TK for his job when TK was 7, and all of the times he's put him in danger? Y eah, Bobby's the better dad. Sorry. I love Owen, but he's a terrible father. Great father-in-law, though.

Over all, I think Bobby and Owen would have a great dynamic if they interacted. They'd work well together in a crisis, they'd probably get in trouble together outside of one similar to how Bobby and Michael got in trouble together. But they only work because they have that difference to them - one being a better leader and one being a better nurturer. It's not necessarily a bad thing that they have that difference considering the team set ups are wildly different and work with their individual styles.

any further questions are welcome!

[yallemagne]

something that some modern-day media could learn is that you can have two people already together and keep it interesting. you can make them work hard to take their relationship to the next level (like marriage) or fight hard to stay together, without it having anything to do with infidelity or constant bickering. all the while they make it apparent that they love and want each other (it's kind of what makes your audience root for them!).

There's no faith in love. It's a weird thing to think about. We're raised on shit that is all "the power of friendship! and cute girls and boys!" but all the more "adult" takes on love are just "eh. sex? possessiveness? jealousy?" It's like once you grow up, all you're fed from that point on is subversive propaganda.

Even in a society that puts a hell of a lot of value upon romance and marriage, there's no faith in either in our media. It's mostly just sex, really, and then the bitter revelation that True Love is fake. I guess the writers and directors for movies are all divorcees so that kind of makes sense. And all the songwriters are young people still upset about Disney princess movies. But even in the most cheesy "we're family, we need to stick together" media, the married couple is always in the process of getting a divorce. It's silly.

Jonathan and Mina have known each other their entire lives. Their honeymoon phase had to have ended long before they ever got married. They don't love "the idea" of each other, they love each other because they know each other. Mina is confident that Jonathan would never be unfaithful to her because he honestly wouldn't, and Jonathan never tries to stifle Mina for fear someone else will sweep her off her feet because she has never given him reason to doubt her love for him. And neither of them is insecure, that's a big part of it. Their relationship works so well because there's no immaturity colouring it, no projected insecurity, just mutual trust. In my personal headcanon, part of the reason they're never concerned about "he/she must be thinking about other women/men" is that they already have experience "sharing" with Lucy. They know that you can love multiple people at once without devaluing the love of one person.

There are so many romcoms and shit, there is so much media that, instead of acknowledging that love (all types of it, really) is something you have to work at but should make you feel good, they feel the need to add cheap conflict. Infidelity and lack of trust in a partner are problems, but they aren't the only problems in a relationship. When stories only focus on character flaws as the primary driver of the conflict (Character A is too sleazy, Character B is too insecure, blah blah), it just makes you wonder "why am I watching a movie about two pricks with no chemistry and no redeeming qualities". There can be outside forces putting a strain on the relationship that the characters have to power through because ultimately their relationship is worth the effort. Romances in movies are hardly ever worth the effort because they're often built on lies that lead to a third-act breakup that is quickly resolved with a single apology. Sometimes they're just actively toxic, with the characters being too immature for a committed relationship and just being very unhealthy for each other. So the message of "we're family, we need to stick together" falls flat in those cases because the relationship has no foundation, it's a bandaid on a bullet wound.

I am so fucking invested in love. I adore love, and I adore this horror novel that has the power of friendship save the day. I would kill for more mature media that puts its faith in love rather than the idea of a happy ending or the cynical subversion of a happy ending. I'm tired of author inserts in movies telling me "that's not how the world works, love is fake".

JUST GIVE ME MORE MEDIA WITH REALISTIC TAKES ON HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS. REALISTIC DOES NOT EQUAL BAD.

[novantinuum]

wip ask meme: "taste of ordinary" chapter 3, "white noise," and also you know i've gotta ask about the ford in hyrule fic LMAO 💜

Thank you friends! Piling all these asks in here since many of you are curious about White Noise, ahah. Which is lucky, because that's one I am actively working to finish right now and finally got a proper title!

Aight lemme dust off my wips...

_

Taste of Ordinary Chapter 3:

Okay, so this one is like. Gosh. Portions of it are SUPER old, and that's why it's been taking me forever to finish it, but this story is overtly the first bit of SU fic I ever started to write, predating even Crack the Paragon. But the gist here for the final chapter is that- while Steven goes to spend the weekend with Connie in the hope of enjoying some Gem incident free time away from home- he's sorta hit with the realization that he'll never really be able to completely separate himself from this reality of his life. From the reality of all the consequences that his mother's war left for him.

I have a fun Steven and Connie solo (no CGs to help!) fight sequence planned for this chapter, because... well...

“Aww come on,” he whines, “another corrupted Gem now? Haven’t we bubbled like, a thousand billion of you already?” She shoots to her feet, already taking the offensive. “Um? Shouldn’t we—?” His lips press into a flat line. Deep inside, the months and months of repressed annoyance and stress and frustration coursing through his veins boil over. He extends his free arm and summons a large bubble to envelop the pair of them. Thoroughly satisfied, he situates himself on the log again and stubbornly crosses his legs. “Y’know, after all the days you corrupted Gems have interrupted my quality time, I’ve decided you can hold your horses!” he says with resolve, pausing to lick at his treat. “I’m finishing my ice cream first.” At his side, Connie pales. “What? Steven?!” The corruption howls, slamming her claws against the pink translucent barrier. “Oh, double-fudge rocky road,” he whispers, gently caressing the side of his waffle cone as he purposely tries to ignore the unholy racket outside his bubble. “You’re my only light in a world full of darkness…”

White Noise:

So, I don't want to give away TOO much of the actual body of this one, because it's not going to be a particularly long fic, but this is a sort of coda to the SUF episode In Dreams. I've had much of the dialogue sketched out since the night that episode aired, but just haven't gotten around to fleshing it out until now.

I think it also acts as a bit of a companion to my fic titled Second Skin, the one that explores Steven's growing understanding of his "pink mode" across the epilogue. There was once a time where I considered outright putting it in that fic, but I ended up scraping that idea because I wanted to maintain the (mostly) steady downward spiral of Steven's own mental state in that one, and this particular story ends on a rather sweet note. It just felt like it wouldn't fit, and deserved to be expanded into its own thing.

I will share a few snippits of dialogue. Some of it is already fleshed out, some of it is still just notes.

"So, have you always glowed pink in your sleep like that?"

“I don’t need to be fixed!” he insists, almost feeling sick to his stomach as that damned glowing pallor rises under his cheeks again anyways, a rote betrayal of all his futile claims. “Didn’t we just decide that’s the whole point of us hanging out now? That we don’t have to fix anything anymore?”

(Surprise hug.) “Steven? It’s okay if you’re not okay.” (She says it in such an understanding manner.) “Sometimes… I’m not okay either."

Ford In Hyrule:

I'd still like to do something with this at some point, because I feel like Ford getting hurled into Hyrule would be PRIME material.

But basically, this is an excuse to have a completely external to all the chaos character commentate on the wild Bullshit Hyrule is dealing with and be a nerd. I think Ford would totally geek out over guardians and ancient tech and do THE most dangerous shit to get his hands on ancient cores for his weapon design. With this crossover in mind, I have the silly thought that a giant ancient core actually ends up as the power source for his quantum destabilizer.

Here, have a bit of one of his journal entries:

Journal entry #8539 Day 2 At first glance, this world is a vessel of stark contrasts. A barren land, strewn with ruins of a civilization long past… and yet irrevocably alive. The wide bounty of wildlife, so similar to the creatures of my own dimension in form, are no doubt the true rulers of this place. Thick young-growth forests blanket these rolling hills all the way to the horizon, practically bursting at the seams with deer, wild boar, foxes, squirrels, and wolves. A diverse variety of avian species populate the vast skies. If I’m honest, such unfettered freedom amidst the local fauna is not a sight I often see in a lot of the more technologically advanced dimensions I frequent, and that saddens me. There’s just something so ephemeral and intimate about observing the daily routines of critters in their natural habitats. (And it’s a large reason why I began my cryptozoologic research in the first place.) Of course, as I mentioned briefly in my last entry, the crumbling remains of former houses, barracks, and marketplaces (among countless other facilities I cannot even begin to guess the purpose of) exist as gaping scars amidst this otherwise pristine wilderness. While the broad grasslands I currently traverse certainly seem peaceful on the surface, all the lingering rubble and rust paints a dire picture of this realm’s history. Dented, tarnished swords lay long-abandoned in the dirt. Scattered humanoid remains pepper the edges of settlements like garish confetti. Certain structures are now housed by small troops of tribal, flat-nosed creatures the likes of which I have never seen, a species which must be unique to this dimension. Since these were the first tool-wielding creatures I had encountered in this world, I briefly considered making contact to learn more about their customs and capacity for communication, but after observing their nature from afar for quite some time, I determined it unwise to approach. While seeming endlessly loyal to each other, this species quickly proved to be intensely territorial upon the approach of those who were not a part of their tribe. I watched them all take arms against a lizard-like creature who made the mistake of hunting too close. Suffice it to say, that lizard was not long for the world. I shan’t be making the same mistake.

[blingblingsparklesparkle]

ALR NOW THAT I KNOW AT LEAST SOME OF YOU WANT IT

The Carver Lore Post

(^This isn’t part of it but I do think his favorite color is purple)

Also this is all my opinion (mixed with a little projection) and obviously not canon

ANYWAYS, I will be separating everything into different categories‼️‼️‼️

Home life

I can see Carver growing up in a middle class, small town kinda situation. HUGE mama’s boy, meh with his dad. I think his mom coddled him a lot growing up and he wasn’t entirely able to take care of himself.

I think people have mentioned this before, but I do see Carver as the youngest child. He has an older sister, maybe about 4 or 5 years older. They don’t fight all that much, if anything they’re frenemies. She cares a lot about him and it was really hard to move when she got into a college.

His family is very tight knit but aren’t super into family gatherings so when Carvers invited to other people’s family gatherings he gets excited.

School life

He wasn’t the best at school but certainly wasn’t the worst. He did pretty well but wasn’t exactly sure what to do after high school.

Not incredibly popular but still pretty well known, mostly because he was on the swimming and basketball team (though he quit basketball in sophomore year because he got bored) Generally liked, had enough charisma to not seem like a complete asshole.

Social life

He never had a lot of people he considered friends despite being a bit of an extrovert. Carver never really felt like he knew how to actually talk to someone. He could do small talk and act like he understood what to do but at the end of the day it was exhausting for him.

Maria & Ladybug

I am a strong believer in Maria, Ladybug, and Carver all living in the same town growing up. I think Maria was a mutual friend of Carver and Ladybug but slowly they all just became one friend group.

His friendship with Maria has always been pretty strong. They started off as just lunch buddies but quickly started warming up to each other. They have gotten into a few fights but most of them were resolved quickly.

Carvers friendship with Ladybug was rocky to begin with. Every few months they had a new big argument and it all ended in a sort of rivalry. They still talk, but both have a “I’m not apologizing until he apologizes!” mentality when they’re both in the wrong.

First kill

I think he was the last one to actually kill someone. Carver was friends with someone in the business who happened to have someone wanting to take them out. He happened to be there while the two were fighting and managed to kill the assassin relatively quickly. He felt surprisingly calm about it and the agency Carvers friend worked with started keeping tabs on him.

The trauma and mental health stuff

I’m not gonna get into the specifics bc I’ve talked about it before on my Medusa tattoo post and elsewhere but even outside of that I think Carver went through some sort of major traumatic event. He didn’t tell anyone for a long while, and when he did it was only his close family and friends.

He doesn’t view it as big or important really, Carver doesn’t even see it as trauma. It takes him a while to really understand the impact it had on him.

Trauma aside, he’s always been a very anxious person. Panic attacks are rather physical for him and he’s almost always on high alert. He isn’t very good at regulating anger and it got him into a lot of trouble growing up, but he’s always managed to narrowly escape punishment.

I think his family would be pretty unsure about therapy or mental health in general. They aren’t super traditional but they still hold up some of those values. It would take a while for them to agree to let him go (mostly bc his doctor recommended it)

Speaking of his family, Carver did grow up in a Catholic home but he’s not very religious himself. He doesn’t have a really negative experience with the religion outside of a lot of Catholic guilt he needs to work through.

Regarding mental health, I’m of the belief that Carver’s autistic and has PTSD. I think his parents were recommended an autism diagnosis but decided against it and never told him. Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly ig) Ladybug pointing out his symptoms was what got Carver to realize he’s autistic and has PTSD.