#but this was the final nail in the coffin making me go from not-really-liking him to full on hating him

[icedteaandoldlace]

Pffft speak for yourself. I simply choose to hate his guts for all eternity, like a normal person. :)

[suguann]

LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME LOVER—JJK MEN.

✎. jjk men showing you how much they love you. | wc. 2k+

tags. fem!reader, window sex, possessive behavior, mirror sex, oral sex, public sex, pregnancy, fingering, praise kink, size kink

featuring. gojo, nanami, geto

masterlist

↬ GOJO

He doesn’t think you’ve looked more breath-taking than you do right then, humming softly to the music on the radio while painting your toenails, the last stretch of daylight kissing your exposed knees through the window. You’re so lost in your own little world that you don’t notice him watching you.

The important emails on his phone go unanswered, saved for another day when you’re not there to distract him. You stretch your smooth legs to inspect your work and glance across the living room to give him one of those soft smiles that sends warmth through his middle.

“What do you think?” you ask, little sunflower yellow toes flexing on the coffee table. 

“They’re pretty, baby.”

Another smile stretches across your face, that full lower lip caught between your teeth. “You think so?”

“Positive.” His phone lies forgotten on the cushion beside him, and he leans back to make room for you. “Come here.”

His eyes make a lazy trail up from your delicate ankle bone to the soft slope of your collarbone that peeks out from one of his t-shirts as you walk towards him, getting his fill until his fingers itch to touch and retrace the invisible path. 

Gojo can’t help it. He’s struck by the sight of you.

He wishes he could trap the shocked and delighted sound you make when he pulls you into his lap, keep it tucked away in the untainted nooks and crannies for him to return to later. A little melody on repeat for the days he feels undeserving of such sweet things, how he treads the fine line of corrupting that wide-eyed innocence you have of the world.

Still. Still, the truth is, he’s a little greedy, and he doesn’t really care how bad of a person that makes him.

Everyone looks up to him in some way. Nobody ever called him a saint. 

Gojo works out more of those soft sounds—pressing you against the chilly, tall windows in the living room, fist in your hair, and his mouth attached to the long column of your throat—that make his mouth go dry. Your back arches to ease the way he fucks up into you, tits brushing up against the glass, and he loves how the distant city lights below shimmer around you like a halo.

A high-pitched whimper, sharp breaths fogging over the window. “‘Toru people can see.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of how your soft and silky little cunt sucks him in—wrapped up all warm and wet around his cock—cursing under his breath when he tells you he doesn’t care. You’re his, anyway. 

“Let them see,” he grunts into your neck, teeth catching along your skin before licking at the vulnerable spot above your pulse. “Let them see how I fuck you because they can’t have you.”

Gojo can barely control himself at the mere idea that anyone would ever think they could. He’ll be the last and only one to know how you turn into a fucking vice when he hits particularly deep—how you shake like a leaf, legs coltish, after he makes you cum hard. 

↬ GETO

It feels like the epitome of terrible days: from the tomato stain on your skirt to your boss forcing deadlines down your throat and surprising Suguru at work only to find a pretty, willowy brunette sitting on the corner of his desk, her hand resting on a stack of graded papers, and fluttering her long lashes at him. 

The final nail in the coffin (a stupid nail, but a hammered-down nail nonetheless) is how she laughs and touches his arm, and Suguru doesn’t brush her off. He actually laughs back, all perfectly straight teeth on display and eyes crinkling at the corners. One of those heart-stopping smiles stretching across his face that you foolishly thought were all yours. 

Suddenly, you wonder if it was out of obligation that made him compliment you that morning in your dress—look at you, a kiss to your cheek, I’m going to fucking ruin you—a perfunctory greeting after being together so long (like making coffee or picking out paint), to make you feel better, or if he meant it—

A tap with sticky fingers to your cheek. “C’mon, watch.” 

You feel like you’re looking from the outside in, a spectator with a front-row seat that has your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his spit-slick chin and cheeks resting against the crease where thigh meets hip. He gives you a syrupy grin that tightens something in your stomach like a screw. 

“Not me,” he says, words laced with amusement. 

Hesitantly, your gaze trails up from his to the floor-length mirror perched in front of the bed, and what you see has your fingers sinking into the sheets. 

You can hardly pull your eyes away from how your leg looks draped across his broad, muscular back, making you look so small even though you sit above him. And it’s like Suguru knows what you’re seeing because his grin grows wider. 

“See, look how perfect you are. That woman in the mirror is so fucking pretty, I can’t believe I get to tell everyone she’s mine.” His thumb parts you open for his mouth. “Why would you think you look otherwise, huh?”

“I…don’t know,” you whisper, head a fuzzy mess of weak excuses that evaporate before they even have a chance to make it onto your tongue.

“Hm, that’s not a good enough answer.” 

Your hips twitch when he noses at your clit. 

“Awe, I bet that feels good, huh? I’m gonna show you what happens when you talk bad about my pretty baby,” then he sucks it into his mouth, making you squeal.

He can’t blame you for squeezing your eyes shut at the slick, hot pressure dragging through your folds—shaky fingers tightening in Suguru’s long, dark hair. It feels equally like everything and not nearly enough until he suddenly pulls away, taking that jittery feeling in your belly with him.

“Why’d you—”

“If you look away, I stop.” He chuckles lightly at the little pout you give him before his lips suck at the tender spot near the crease of your thigh, “so watch.”

↬ NANAMI

After lunch, he drags you across the street where there’s a park for him to set up a picnic blanket under a tree. Kento rests his head on your lap, slipping an arm around your waist and rubbing the sore spot in your lower back from being on your feet for too long. 

It’s all very innocent: him kissing your round pregnant belly, you running your fingers through his soft hair and talking about the latest work gossip. 

You hum when you feel his fingers crawl up your thigh, slowly at first and with no destination, just soft, aimless circles here and there, until the calloused pad of his thumb skirts over the front of your underwear, making you jerk with a small squeak.

“Kento,” you giggle, fingers tightening in his hair. 

He smiles at the scandalized look spreading across your face and leans forward to press another kiss against your stomach.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, hand pushing up your dress. 

You glance around the park to see if anyone is paying attention to the two of you—an elderly couple feeding the ducks frozen peas by the pond, a mother and father playing with their giggling daughter in the grass, college kids throwing a frisbee, all far enough away to be out of earshot (but that’s not the real problem here)—before you look back at your husband. 

“W-what?” you sputter, wide-eyed realization taking over.

He presses another open-mouthed kiss to your thigh. “Do you trust me?”

A soft whine slips past your teeth, the hand not in his hair curling into the blanket. “But everyone will notice because I’m—I’m—”

(A beached whale. An air balloon. A carnival-sized melon. You get the gist.)

“Gorgeous.” He smooths a hand over your bump, open-fondness radiating across his features, the subtle hint of possessiveness there making you shiver. “You look so fucking gorgeous with my baby growing inside you. Let me take care of you.”

“B-but—”

Everything else melts away to the pulsing heat between your legs and your husband groaning from the wetness he finds there. Your shaky thighs fall open wider when his fingers hook under the edge of your underwear (unflattering things worn for comfort over sexual appeal), pulling them aside to run his fingers through your slick seam. 

Pregnancy brain clouds your judgment, and before you can think twice about your actions, how you definitely shouldn’t let Kento eat you out in the middle of a public park, you nod your head. 

His lips ghost over the tender flesh of your upper thigh. "I need to hear you say it."

It’s a low and shaky yes that has his fingers finally sinking into you to the third knuckle, steadily pumping in and out of you. You buck down onto his hand, trying to bite back the moan threatening to alert everyone in the park of the head under your skirt.

“You’re going to cum for me, just like this,” Kento tells you, voice muffled by a layer of powder blue cotton. “Alright, darling?” 

[ramonathinks]

ALL HE WANTS — EREN x BLK!READER

tags: 18+ (no minors/no blank blogs — you will be blocked), shotgunning, sex, kinda friends to lovers, established relationship (towards the end), oral (f!), making out, sexual tension, eren has a tongue piercing and dimples, fingering, dirty talk, reader is black, mutual pining, dry humping, unprotected sex, dubcon (both a little buzzed on weed),

notes: this is a repost ofc but... i wasn't about to miss daddy's birthday lolll. (1)(2) “continue reading” divider by @/anitalenia 4.1k words ! + repost!

“When you gonna stop playing and let me be your man, baby?” Eren had his hands in his pockets and lent up against the wall, staring you down. The way he talked always made your body shiver, the way he looked deep into your eyes made you want to moan.

“Just gimme the weed, please.” You rolled your eyes at him. He was always like this — teasing you whenever he saw you all dolled up; tonight you wore a short peach colored dress that made your chest look even bigger, and his eyes kept glancing down constantly from your lips to your chest.

He probably kept looking at your lips because of how plump and bright they were decorated with the clear sticky fruity smelling lipgloss you always wore. Your hair was done in a wavy black hair done in a 32inch half up-half down that framed your face pretty well; and Eren tried to act like he didn’t realize it wasn’t the hairstyle he picked for you a while back.

Unintentionally he licked his lips before digging through his pockets for what he came over to deliver. Normally he didn’t hand deliver anything, he made people come to him, but this was you.

Sweet smelling you who always looked as good as you smelt and right now there was an aroma around you that smelled of nothing but strawberries and some other fruity smell that he couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t even just the fact that you smelled so good but rather the way you looked so good too, always with your hair done even your nails — long coffin shaped, pink and white acrylic with little designs on them — and your face, bare or not your skin was always glistening rich brown.

He was always losing his focus when you were in the room. He handed you your weed and turned to leave. “Wait, here—”

He scoffed, “On the house.” He waved you off, he did this all the time, no matter how many times you begged him to just take the money.

“Eren!” Using his long legs to stroll out of the hallway and towards the apartment complex’s door. He almost made it out before he felt you tug at his arm, a deep pout on your face.

“You’ll get wrinkles. Don’t…” He caressed the area between your eyebrows and trailed down to your jaw — taking it in his hands and squeezing it, making your pout deeper before he let it go.

“Just here, okay? I’m grateful you don’t make me pay since we’re friends,” That definitely wasn’t the reason, but he didn’t say anything. “But just take it. I can pay, you know I can.” Your eyelids fluttered innocently.

He sniffled, “Fine. Fine. Just this once.” He flicked your nose. Then Eren looked at you, truly looked at you and smiled a bit. You were really too cute. “Are you coming to Connie’s party in a few?”

“Yeah, I was actually just getting ready before you came.” You tell him, finally letting go of his arm.

“And that’s what you’re wearing?” He swallowed, biting his tongue. He sounded so judgmental that your eyes widened before you looked down at yourself.

It was cold yes but you always chose being cute over being cold, plus you were always being driven around so you weren’t even outside enough to feel the freezing cold air and it was only a small bit of occasional snow, nothing too bad.

“What’s wrong with it?” You craned your neck a bit to see your backside. Everything was in tact and in place.

Jealousy was already deep in his chest and tugging at his heart, making everything feel so tight around him. He just shook his head, “Nothing, just thinkin’ bout how cold it is, that’s all. But I know you already have a ride lined up, right?”

Playfully rolling your eyes you smirk, “Actually…” Twiddling with your fingers, he watches you already knowing where this was going. “I was hoping, you’d take me if you had a chance? Maybe?”

“Do I ever say no to you?” He asked, walking back down the hall with you towards your apartment again.

This wasn’t his first time inside of your apartment. But for some reason he couldn’t help but to be in awe. You lived in luxury — marble countertops, a wide double door silver fridge, a patio… he knew he couldn’t compare to the lifestyle your father already had you in.

He wish he could... but he couldn’t. He made enough on selling whatever he could but it was only enough for him, not a lifestyle like yours. He wouldn’t be able to provide for you like you needed. Even if he got a real good job, nothing could truly live up to your norm and he would hate for you to settle.

It was the reason that he never truly could actively pursue you like he wanted with a good conscience. How could he pursue you when you had everything you wanted and then some?

Even the fuzzy pink rug on your floor looked like it was worth a couple thousand. A glossy painting of you hung in the center of your living room and it caught his eye, the last time he was inside it wasn’t there.

“Isn’t it nice? Looks almost as cute as the real thing, Hm?” You teasing, putting a finger to your cheek.

He gave you a side eye with a smile so deep enough that you could see his dimple and it made your heart flutter.

You always thought he was cute just not boyfriend material. You weren’t even being judgmental but you heard about Eren long before you had met him. Just a boy who always wanted to get his dick wet and especially when he had pretty clients, you couldn’t take him serious. Even if you wanted to.

When he wasn’t being a flirt, he was a good friend, always came when you needed him, even if it was just for a ride. He was always so sweet and treated you better than any of your boyfriends.

“You think I should just settle for some pants instead of this then, huh?” You did a slight twirl. You could tell he really liked what you had on but just not today. Not where y’all was headed.

He clicked his teeth with his tongue, “Uhh…” He looked you over, his gaze lingering on all assets.

His knee was bouncing and he was getting up before he realized. He never been inside of your room, let alone your closet. So this was all new territory to him, yet he felt like he knew where everything was.

He don’t know why he loved seeing you in your pink moon boots but he knew he wanted to see them on you tonight. He peaked over his shoulder, looking at you briefly before looking over your closet again. “Hm,” He held out two different shirts, you chuckled.

“Maybe this one with the hearts to match the boots and then a nice mini skirt… not too short.” He knew how you liked to dress and you gave him a coy smile.

“Ya know what, Yeager? You’re cute.” You kissed his cheek before pushing him out the room to get dressed. You hate to admit you were feeling hot all over, most guys didn’t come into your room for anything but sex and even though you weren’t expecting him to come in and help you decide on something else he did. It was little. But more than you were used to.

Eren on the other hand, was trying not to palm his dick. Touching the soft fabric of your clothes and imagining them on your skin, had him gulping. He paced the living room before he heard small paws running up to him and yelping. A small bundle of golden tan fur ran up to him, scratching and sniffing the area around him.

“Princess!” You yelled, running out to get your little dog. “Sorry Eren, she loves new people. I thought she would stay sleep, but...” You coo and tap the floor so that she comes running. “I’ll put her up and then we can go.” You scoop her up.

He stops you, “Let me meet my baby’s baby.” He ushers her out of your hand and into his own, a deep smile on his face as she licks his fingers.

You ignore what he says and how it makes your stomach flutter, you just cross your arms and watch. “She’s the cutest.” He tells you, staring you down with a hooded gaze. “Let’s get going, ‘kay?”

You nod, heading to put her into a crate so she can sleep until you get back.

He waits for you, even when you lock up your apartment, he opens the car door for you. You don’t know why but you feel like everything’s going to change tonight.

And Eren can feel it too.

------

It isn’t until you’re already there that you realize his hand was on your thigh the entire car ride. His touch leaving a trail of hotness and when he finally parked, your eyes wouldn’t leave your thigh. Was it weird that you were already missing his touch against your skin?

You heard a few people greeting him as he caught up towards the house behind you, he nodded to a few and did a half wave to some others.

“Birthday boy Yeager, finally! Being late to your own party, really man?” Connie greeted him and your body froze.

Eren didn’t mention it was his birthday. Connie didn’t even mention it when he invited you. You frowned and moved closer before squeezing Eren’s side.

A slight yelp, “The fuck was that for?” He asked, looking down at you with furrowed brows.

“It’s your birthday and you didn’t tell me? You were selling me weed on your birthday, driving me to your birthday party and didn’t bother to mention it?”

“It…skipped my mind.” He muttered, scratching the back of his head.

“You didn’t tell your girl your birthday?” Connie snickered. “You didn’t want any birthday sex? Mannn—“

Eren lightly jabbed Connie’s arm, “You know we’re just friends.”

But really, who could tell? Whenever you both were together, you both always stood so close together, sometimes even with his hand on your waist. Deep long stares and only focusing on each other.

“Rightttttt.” Connie laughs and waves you and Eren down to the basement. “So while the party’s upstairs… our real party will be right here, just the gang you know…” He explained while you looked over the place.

A comfy basement with a long couch and two loveseats, a few white garden chairs. A bong on the table that sat in the middle and a few bottles of alcohol. “Sooo, where is everyone?” You raised your eyebrows, arms folded against your chest.

Connie thinks for a moment before raising a finger, pulling out his phone and calling someone. “Yeahhh, hello?” You and Eren shared a glance before looking back at Connie. “Fuck, you gotta be kidding me… no, no, it’s fine,” Connie does an awkward smile to you both. “Alright. Yeah. See you soon.” He sighs.

“Fuck, I gotta go. Sasha said she needs me to get her. Then Jean too and… yeah… basically I think all those fuckers need a ride.” He explains. “Please make yourselves comfortable down here or upstairs, whatever. I’ll just be right back.” He jogs up the stairs and closes the door.

You feel awkward just standing so you smooth out a place on the loveseat and sit down.

But of course you weren’t planning on Eren sitting next to you. Cramped up and all in your space, his legs spread wide with almost little room for your legs. You stare at him, “Seriously?”

He does a sly smile, “I can’t sit next to you? You gonna deny me all tonight huh?”

Remembering it was his birthday, you just let him. His arm over your shoulder and pulling you in. “Fine… fine.” You mutter, pulling out some of the weed you brought from him earlier.

“Hey…lemme roll that for you.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, he just does it. The shiny piercing on his tongue showing itself as he licked up the paper.

You squeezed your thighs, just watching him. He pulled out a lighter from his pocket and with a few clicks, he lit your blunt and took one long drag from it, finally handing it to you.

“Thanks…” You brought it to your lips and his eyes burned into yours. You inhaled, smiling as you felt it come over you. You hummed to yourself, your hooded eyes watching him as he watched you.

“How you feelin’?” You heard him ask, your body humming and you leaned closer into his touch. Your head laying on his shoulder.

“Good.” You responded shortly. “Just really good.”

“I’m glad to hear that baby.” His voice sounded closer but you ignored it. You smoked the blunt again and when you went to exhale, he pressed his lips to yours, just a small peck.

Briefly, you would’ve missed it if your eyes weren’t open.

“Been wanting to do that all day.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay…” You swallowed. “You can do it again.”

It was all he needed. His hands grabbed your face gently and he pressed a small peck on your lips. Then again. His hands touch the skin of your thigh when he goes in a bit deeper. No more little kisses, he’s fully kissing you on the lips. “Must be the weed, hm? You’d never let me kiss you…fuck,” He sounds pissed but mainly at himself.

“I took like two puffs, I’m barely…buzzed. I just… I mean why not?” You ask aloud, looking at him. Maybe you were just tired of pretending that you didn’t want him. That you didn’t want this. You were horny and maybe a quick fuck to get him out of your system would be good for the both of you.

“You like playing with my heart huh? You know how I feel and…” He trails off. “You know I like you—“

“You don’t like me, you just wanna fuck me like everyone else.” You had a hard time believing that he had feelings for you, that he wasn’t like any of the others before him. You wave him off but he grabs your wrist.

He clicks his teeth before laughing, “No, no, no…Baby. You’re special to me. Just want you all to myself, always.”

You snort, “Yeah right…” But your body felt so hot and like you’re wearing too many clothes.

“Come sit on my lap pretty girl. Let me show you something.” He pats his lap and grabs your waist, tightly.

“Show me what?” You were curious but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to come back to being just friends if you did what he asked.

“How much I like you.” He lifted you with ease and in an instant, you were on him. You could feel just how big and hard he was under you. You swallowed, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Well? Show me.” You smile, hotness rolling off the both of you in waves. He smiles before he brings you in and kisses you.

Moaning when he pulls you closer, jerking his hips up to yours. His hands exploring your body and his tongue enters your mouth, swirling around. Slipping his tongue in and out your mouth, sucking on yours. His hands traveling down your back until he gripped your butt, spreading and massaging them in his large palms before sliding them up and down your back.

He kisses the sides of your neck and you take another drag of the blunt, feeling your lungs expand and the sensation of his mouth and hands making you shiver. He grabs your hips and rolls his more into yours, the fabric of his denim jeans hitting your clit.

Breathing heavily you inhale and with shaky hands you pull him forward. Kissing him with the smoke still in your lungs, his cock throbbing in his pants, he’s trying not to be greedy but he wants you. Tracing up and down your shirt, slipping his fingers underneath.

He feels a bit giggly afterwards. With a dopey big grin on his face, “You’re so pretty. Like an angel.” You’re smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt but your pussy is pulsing and you need him.

“Eren… thank you. But I just… need… I need you to…Please just touch me. Please.” His hands roam again. His cock half hard in his pants and his hands on your hips, he makes you roll them against his again. You gape and gasp a bit, feeling how hard he is against your damp dainty panties.

His hands are under your skirt and he massages the bit of your butt and thighs, spreading and patting you. He kisses you full on the lip and sucks more on your tongue before pulling back, “You’re just so pretty.” His forehead is on yours and his eyes are eating you up.

Your clit pulses and throbs the more he rolls your hips against his and the way he’s digging his fingers into the skin of your butt and thighs, you’re groaning and sighing, “This feels so…” you wrap an arm around his neck. “Good.” You whisper in his ear and feel him shiver, you press small kisses up and down his neck. “You’re so hard…” You lick him, small and to the point. “Eren…I—“

“Shhh,” He stops your hips, that were now moving on their own. “Just keep doing what feels natural… what feels right. We can talk about all of this later. But now? Let me make you feel good, yeah? Wouldn’t you like that?”

And it’s the way that he says it, honestly, that makes your heart speed up and your panties even more wet before he slips them to the side.

“Holy shit, already? This wet, baby? Damn…” His fingers sticky just from a quick slip inside, your mouth open and your legs shaking. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.” You hear the sweet sounds of him fingering you, the wet noises echoing in the dark room.

“Fuck,” He mutters, flexing his fingers and twisting them inside. You clamp down on him and he bits his lip before kissing you, trying to keep you both quiet.

You lifted his shirt a little, looking at his stomach as he breathes in and out, his stomach muscles flexing. You smile to yourself, helping him out of his shirt before you trail your hand up and down his muscular chest and stomach. A semi thick patch of hair from his stomach and disappears down into his pants catches your attention and with a deep gulp your fingers dance lightly on his stomach until they disappear into his pants.

His breath hitches, “Your hands are so…whew,” His eyes are closed when you touch him, stroking him. “So damn soft. Too damn soft.” His hips jerk up at the contact of your hand against him.

“Has anyone ever—?” He doesn’t say it but licks his lips and sucks at his teeth.

“No, never…” Boys were too interested in sex never foreplay or oral. Some never even looked at your pussy.

He huffed, “Idiots. Want you to sit on my face, okay?” He could feel you twitching and your body freeze up.

“You’re so weird you know that?” You squeeze at his tip and he whined a bit, taking your wrist and taking it out of his pants.

“Hey, been thinking about it forever.” He have, he liked being your friend but he always thought about what’s between your legs. He always felt so guilty for it, this ulterior motive of his.

With your skirt still on, you move to hover over him. He breathes you in and groans out a deep “Fuck.” His tongue soaked in spit but he grabs at your thighs and slurps at your swollen clit. The heavy scent of your aroma wafting around his face.

Your thighs shaking as you rock your hips against him, but he wants to take things slow. Your juices all over his mouth and even a bit on his nose. You hated how greedy you were being. His tongue flicking at your stick clit and sucking on your lips.

“Eren! Faster…faster, please.” The cold metal piercing brushed against your clit and had you seeing stars so clearly that you tugged at his dark hair.

He liked the way his name sounded rolling off your tongue, even the way your mouth looked when you said it. Your lips: a work of art and your voice a song. So to be the one who’s listening and the one giving you this pleasure? He couldn’t help but smile to himself. To revel in it.

He chuckles listening to the soft moans of your pleads and begging, “No need to beg, don’t you know you own me? I’m yours. I’ll do whatever you say.”

His voice made you clench and he pressed small kisses up your slit before stretching you apart, “Think I can see you getting all wet for me…” His tongue dives in and your toes curl as he licks around the insides of you. Sucking at your folds and diving inside of your wetness, he moved one of his hands from your thighs and rubbed with two fingers on your achy clit. You shuddered, biting your lips.

He smiles looking at your pussy, so wet and pretty before he dives back in. Really just wanting to be covered in your scent. He gives a few more sucks, your hips raising and thrashing against his face.

“Baby,” The breath of his deep chuckle hitting your pussy and you shiver. “I’m leaking in my pants. I need you. Badly.”

He took his time but he laid you out on the couch, looking at the amount of your arousal that ran down your legs. He watched your pussy twitch, using his fingers he spread you open, clenching around the cool empty air. “Fuck,” you already looked fucked out and he haven’t even been inside of you yet.

Sliding his thick cock between your wet folds he felt you tremble. Tapping the head against your clit, he felt you jolt and he slowly slid inside of you. Your walls sucking him in and squeezing him tightly.

He groans, almost collapsing on top of you and you dig your nails into his back, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Wanted you for so long.” He kisses you quick and laced your fingers together, squeezing your hand. “It’s so wet inside of you, feels so fucking good.” Stretching and carving your insides to only fit his shape. Everything sounded underwater as he continued to pound inside of you. “You’re so perfect. So pretty. Fuck.” He angled his hips before thrusting faster inside of you. “So tight, so pretty, so mine.” He purred, licking up your throat and sucking; leaving a trail of hickies in his wake.

“Eren, oh god.” You breathe, worked up. He brings your legs from his waist and bring them closer to your head, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you.

“Think I’m in love withchu…” His thrusts are strong and now your feet dangling over your head, you couldn’t think straight. “But I think you already know that, hm? Think you love having me wrapped about your fingers.” Meeting every thrust he made, you felt a small bit of squirt splash and soak up his cock as he pulled it out before plunging back inside of you.

Your stomach is twisting and your toes curl heavenly as his dick continues, you push at his chest. “Wait! Eren…I…” You feel even more pressure in your gut and clench around him. “Please… no more.”

Your eyes are watery but Eren doesn’t care, instead he uses the pads of all his fingers and do deep aching rubs on your clit. Writing his name in your clit with your fingers, your thighs shake and then you’re finally cumming all over him and with a few more hard thrusts, he follows with a deep groan of your name.

He lays on top of you for a second to catch his breath before kissing you again. “I like you. Always have.” He huffed.

You bite back a smile. “I like you too…” You tell him shyly.

He gets up and hands you your pretty panties with a smug look. “So will you be my girlfriend?”

You chuckle, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend Eren.”

All Eren could think of was that this was his best birthday in a long while. He peppering kisses over your face.

“Alright… birthday boy, put some pants on.” You snicker, looking at his lower half, he was already getting back hard.

“Oh right.” He kissed you again.

[worriedvision]

oh my godddddddddddds im backk its 🌙

maybe someting where kinich and the reader are dating and jealous of mualani for something he did to help her that he never does for reader?

Okay so in this idea I've made reader a weapons dealer (why tf can't I remember the name of the profession smh?) and Ajaw gives you some useful advice.

Part of this fic has headcanons not really linked to the character, but more to the fic idea.

--

Your boyfriend was not the best at keeping his weapon safe - that much that you landed up knowing him through his visits to your stand, asking with a hint of embarrassment added in every time he made yet another visit to your shop for another claymore. Over time, you had grown fond of him, and you asked him out.

Surprisingly, he said yes.

When you hang out, which was rare because of his line of work, you told him more about yourself than he was willing to tell you. At first you thought he was just getting more familiar with you, but after a while you get wary. You had given him a decent discount for weapons - basically free whenever he needed once since you begin dating.

But then you saw how he interacted with her. Mualani.

She effortlessly got him to talk, and you really didn't like the feeling in your chest when you saw them together, and Ajaw seemed bored whenever they were together. Ajaw would get put into time out regularly whenever he said too much, which happened whenever Kinich was being teased about how close he seemed to be to Mualani in comparison to you - his actual partner.

The last time he got put into time out, Ajaw manage dto get to you discretely. No idea how exactly, but you weren't about to ask questions.

"You're better moving on, _." Ajaw states. "You and I both know he's taking advantage of your deal."

"...My deal?" You ask, tilting your head.

You hadn't thought too hard about how often he seemed to visit your shop after you two became a couple, but it made sense how often he visited. He didn't even show shame with it after you both started dating, he seemed to think this was his side of the bargain as opposed to just being Happy about dating you.

"...Are you listening to me?" Ajaw yells, catching your attention. "It looks like you already know what I'm going to say. I'm stuck with Kinich, doesn't mean you have to be!" Ajaw cackles, sunglasses on.

"Thanks, Ajaw." You rub the back of your head awkwardly as you look over at Kinich who has now been hugged by Mualani. He never pushes her away, not did he seem uncomfortable with her hugs, which was the final nail in the coffin as he never wanted to get your affections.

Kinich walks over, pointing towards a Claymore as he asks for a price. When you give him the usual customer price, he shows confusion.

"What?" You ask innocently. "I can't keep giving you discounts when you keep losing merchandise. It costs materials, time and money to make these."

"Fair enough, sorry." Kinich smiles softly, an action you had only seen from him when he had spoken to Mualani. He places the mora on the table, you hand the weapon over, and he doesn't even wave as he leaves.

Mualani waves at you, cheery smile on her face, and you do the most pathetic wave before having to excuse yourself as you realised you fell for a guy that had only wanted you for your weapons at a cheaper price.

You realise that, in Kinich's eyes, you were nothing but a side character.

[sandwhitches]

hii! can i have a cherry popsicle abt suna confessing to the reader but he’s super nervous?? thanks so much! feel free to request smth from me if you’d like to do a little exchange:)

a/n: u must be a mind reader because i’ve LITERALLY been working on this exact prompt omg!!! it’s longer than a drabble (lowkey really long so i just formatted it like a fic☠️) because i already had most of it written when u requested so enjoy :3!! also u BET im gonna send u a request yay!!!

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 (𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨)

desc: suna is an idiot and seeks the help of an unlikely (and annoying, in his humble opinion) ally to help him confess to you

content: fem. reader, language, suna’s little sister guest star!!!!! (i love that he canonically has a little sister; she’s like middle school age in this ughhhh suna as a big brother makes me want to combust), suna pining for you like a big stupid idiot

wc: 1.5k

this is a part of my summer writing event!!! please feel free to send some requests my way :3

Suna Rintaro knows two things for certain: firstly, he’s absolutely in love with you, and secondly, he hasn’t a clue what to do about it. It was easier for him to come to terms with the latter, seeing as he’d spent most of his teenage years rolling his eyes at mushy displays of affection and taking the piss out of his friends who seemed to have traded all necessary brain function in exchange for falling in love. 

To him, falling in love this early on in life was as worthless and cheap as the chocolate he watched be gifted every Valentines Day; eventually, they’ll eat what they like and throw what they don’t in the trash, he’s seen it done countless times before, and he’d be stupid to let something like that happen to him. 

Still, here he is, knee-deep and sinking even deeper as the moments go by, he thinks falling in love might be like being pushed into quicksand. As odd as it is for him to admit it to himself, he doesn’t mind it at all.

There’s a certain giddiness that can’t be awarded any time other than when you talk to him. He spends the rest of the afternoon and evening thinking about your conversations, wondering if he said something wrong, thinking of all the ways he could have prolonged the exchange, and smiling fondly when he remembers he managed to make you laugh three times (a new record for him).

“What’s with that face?” Atsumu had interrupted Suna during one of the breaks at volleyball practice, his idiotic grin on full display in Rintaro’s face. Had he really been smiling just from thinking about you?

Suna had mumbled something that sounded like an awkward mixture of shut up and fuck off, quick to storm away in hopes that Atsumu didn’t catch the violent reddening of his cheeks. This is not good, he thinks, love can’t really be this hard to ignore, can it?

He’s put up a hard battle against this exact scenario, and he’s afraid you might have unknowingly thrown a wrench right into his fine tuned machine of a brain. If this really was a battle, he’s fine raising a white flag in order to get to make you laugh more often, for the slight possibility of getting to know if your lips really feel as soft as they appear, and the hope that one day he might forget all about what it was like not to be entirely in love with you. 

This is the nail in the coffin, his final surrender. Being in love really must make people stupid, because he’s nervously tugging his collar as he knocks on his younger sister's door. She chirps a surprised “Come in!” and Rintaro struggles to actually reach for the door, consumed with the reality of the fact that this really is where he’s ended up in his life. Great.

His sister gives him an incredulous look when she realizes it had been him who knocked, eyeing him suspiciously, “What do you want?” She mumbles in confusion, setting her pencil down. Suna parts his lips, mouth running dry, then sighs loudly, shaking his head. 

“What is it?” She inquires, sudden agitation laced in her tone. Rintaro looks at the ground, too embarrassed to see the inevitable shift in her expression when he asks, “What’s the right way to ask out a girl?” 

A silence follows that isn’t long enough in Suna’s opinion, quickly cut off by a loud bark of laughter, “No way! You’re asking me for advice?” 

Here’s another thing Suna Rintaro knew for certain, there’s no word that describes the extent in which his younger sister is the bane of his existence. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Suna mutters self-consciously. This probably was a bad idea in theory, but as much as it pains him to admit it, this is his last resort. He knows next to nothing about how to be normal about talking to you, let alone confess; something is better than nothing in this situation, and he swears to himself that he will make sure he never has to ask his sister for advice like this again. 

Love, when it comes to you, has to be a one and done thing. He’s sincerely praying to whoever is watching over him that he never has to feel the terror of confessing to anyone else again. It just has to be you. 

That’s why he’s here, standing about as stiff as a marble statue as he pushes a shaky finger to your doorbell, drawing his hand back swiftly as if it burned him. In a spurt of unexplainable confidence, Suna had asked if you wanted to hang out on Saturday, conveniently leaving out the part where he desperately wished for it to be more than just a hang out.

Earlier that morning, he’d been so close to chickening out that his sister, of all people, angrily dragged him to the nearest grocery store with a scowl.

 “Don’t get her roses, it’s way too soon for that kind of flower!” She snapped, swatting Suna’s hand away from the bouquet.

“Daisies? Seriously? Are you a serious?”

It would be an utter lie if Suna did not admit that he had no idea what his sister was talking about. If love really is this complex, maybe he’s not the right person for it. Still, he finds himself lingering on the face you make when you laugh, the way you’re the first person that he never got sick of texting into the early hours of the morning, and how you’re the only person that could ever make him reconsider that puppy love and crushes might mean something more than he’d given them credit for.

After all, the way he felt for you is what people call love, isn’t it?

Suna grips the assorted bouquet of colorful flowers that his sister had deemed good enough, listening to the sound of your front door clicking open. He’s doomed, this is a bad idea, and yet it’s the only thing he wants to do. 

How’d you get to be so beautiful? Suna wonders that a lot, in fact, it makes him angry that you’d just waltzed into his life like you did. It’s absolutely unfair, he was a dead man before he could even put up a fight. Falling in love with you was unavoidable from the beginning, but he seems to be just okay with that. 

“Oh!” Your eyes go wide, nonplussed by the bouquet in his hands, “Flowers for me?” You snicker, your laughter is probably the worst thing that could possibly happen right now, it makes everything ten times harder to do.

“Yeah, um-” Rintaro sputters, nervously darting his eyes around for the answer to your question. He knew the answer. You knew the answer.

Hastily, he holds it out for you to take, which you do without hesitation, “What’s the occasion?” 

Suna Rintaro knows two more things for certain: firstly, he’ll die if he doesn’t tell you how he feels, and secondly, you’re smart enough to have already surmised exactly what the occasion is. 

Everything his sister told him, advisories of “That’s too creepy!” and “Don’t be so blunt about it!” all fly to the back of his mind in exchange for the only things he can really manage to say. 

“Well,” Suna starts, cringing at the way his voice cracks, he knows this is about to be the world’s worst confession. 

“I, um, I got these for you because I think you’re really pretty,” you watch in bewilderment as his cheeks gradually saturate into a bright red, “but, that’s not just it!” Suna blurts, “You’re also really smart, and funny, and you’re probably the only person I could sit and talk to for hours without getting annoyed by-” Now, Suna is blatantly breaking the third piece of advice his sister had given him, don’t ramble.

“And, I really look forward to talking to you, even if it’s about boring stuff, I still want to hear you talk all day. Which, saying that out loud is really embarrassing for me, but, not because I’m embarrassed of you, I’m just embarrassed that I’m so-”

“Suna-” you interrupt, the cellophane wrap of the bouquet you held crackles as you lower it to see him better. You watch, partially in amusement, while the boy across from you struggles to comprehend everything he just said. 

Suna is done for when it comes to you, this was priorly understood, so why is it so hard to put it into words if it’s all he ever thinks about? “I like you a lot…is that okay?” He finally sighs, pale green eyes flickering up to search for a silent answer in the faltering of your expression. 

“That’s okay.” You nod, dumbfounded by the sudden declaration, each word was spoken with more confidence than anything you’ve ever heard him say before.

“Cool.” Suna nods dumbly.

“Cool.”

[guiltyasdave]

a long time coming

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You were supposed to go to a concert with your best friend. You end up going with her dad instead.

word count: ~1.1k

tags/warnings: best friend's dad!Dave, fluff, allusions to smut, huge age gap, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, please be warned: Dave has inappropriate (though reciprocated) thoughts about his daughter's best friend - if that makes you uncomfortable, don't read

a/n: daphne @sizzlingcloudmentality and i were freaking out about those new photos of pedro, and because daphne apparently wants me dead, she said that it's giving bfd!dave who's at a concert with you and also provided me with a snippet that still has me in a chokehold and that's part of this story now. i am already experiencing heavy brainrot because i'm going to the eras tour in three (3) days and this was the final nail in my coffin tbh. i should be working on my dress, but instead i did this. the most self indulgent shit i've ever written lmao, please enjoy <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my whole masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

“Please, daddy? Please?” 

Dave sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Molly’s hoarse voice keeps pleading with him before it dissolves into a fit of coughs. 

With a groan, she lets her head fall against the pillows, wide eyes still trained on him. 

“No one else wants to go, and I can’t let her go alone, I’d feel terrible. Please?” 

She pouts at him, knowing fully well that her father doesn’t deny her anything when she looks at him like this. 

“Fine. If you’re sure that she’s okay with it?” 

“She is! I already asked her.”

Dave cocks a brow at his daughter, earning himself an exhausted but triumphant grin. 

“Don’t look at me like that. It will be fun!”

Admittedly, Dave really has much more fun than he expected when his daughter all but begged him to accompany her best friend to the concert that she wanted to go to herself before she got sick. 

He knows most of the songs, has been witness to you and Molly singing along to the music while dancing through his kitchen often enough. It’s not bad music by any means, and the show is nothing short of spectacular. 

It’s not the reason he’s enjoying himself so much though. He’s barely watching the show, eyes only occasionally flicking towards the stage. 

His gaze is fixed on you, has been since before the show even started. Watching you interact with other fans, beaming smiles and giggles, eagerly exchanging bracelets, excitedly cooing at the especially pretty ones. 

Meeting your eyes when you turned to him, not able to suppress his own smile at the sparkle in them. Suppressing the flicker of something in his chest when your fingers wrapped around his wrist, tugging it closer to put a few bracelets on him as well. You don’t seem to notice the faint blush that’s rising up in his cheeks at the unexpected touch. 

He’s watching you bouncing on your feet seconds before the show starts, snaps a few photos of the pure joy on your face without you noticing. Just to send them to you later, having enough experience from being the father of two daughters to know how much you’ll love them. After that, he’ll delete them from his own phone. Of course he will. 

He’s watching you dance, your body moving to the beat of the music, your lips forming every word. Your silhouette shimmering with the lights reflecting off your dress. It’s mesmerizing. You dance with the girls beside you sometimes, shouting lyrics at each other. Other times, you turn to him. He doesn’t protest when you take his hands, starts moving with you without a second thought, starts singing the words that he knows along with you. You’re laughing, your eyes shining with pure happiness. It’s intoxicating, and he wants more, wants all of it, wants to be part of that happiness. He doesn’t remember the last time he smiled this wide, the last time his body felt this light. 

It takes a long time, longer than it should, until he remembers why this is bad. Until the weight comes crashing back into him. Until he remembers that he shouldn’t feel like this with you. 

You’re so much younger than him. His daughter’s friend. His daughter who asked him to come here with you, because she trusted that you’d be safe with him. 

Your brow furrows when you catch his eye and notice the change in his expression. No. He wants you to enjoy yourself, doesn’t want to be the reason for any kind of worry for you right now. He allows himself to drink in your energy right now, to let a smile grow on his face again. 

There’s no harm in indulging just for one night. Just a little bit. No one has to know. Least of all you. 

So he keeps singing with you, keeps letting you move with him. Keeps watching. 

It’s easy, being with you, talking to you. Effortless in a way that he’s not used to. 

It’s just because you’re at his house more often than not, going wherever Molly goes. It has to be. 

But it’s different, your giggles ringing out in the confines of his car, not mixed with his daughter’s, the sound that he knows. And he’s the one who’s elicited those laughs from you. 

"Explain it again, please. You’ve glued every single of these stones onto your dress?" He laughs and gives you another once over, glad he can disguise his inappropriate ogling with an appreciating glance. Act like he’s studying the intricate, shimmering patterns on the fabric. Not the way your tits are straining against the low cut over your chest. Not the way the skirt has ridden up your thighs, exposing a new inch of bare skin. "Great job, sweetheart. You look good. The dress looks good, too." 

He wonders how the dress would look bunched up around your waist. Or on the floor of your apartment. If your skin is as soft as it looks in the dim shine of the red light he’s stopped at. How it would taste under his tongue. The sweet sounds you would make when his teeth dig into you. 

You breathe a thank you and bite your lip at the compliment, and his cock twitches with interest. Wrong, wrong, so wrong.

He has to be imagining the way that you keep glancing his way, stealing looks when you think that he doesn’t notice. Wishful thinking on his part. 

He pulls up in front of your apartment building, killing the engine and turning towards you. You’re already facing him, more shy than you’ve looked all evening. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you say softly, lips pulling up into another smile. “I’ve had a great time. I— I hope you did too.” 

His hand lands on your thigh before he can actively think about it. A soft gasp escapes you, but you make no move to back away from his touch. 

“Trust me, I did.” 

He doesn’t intend for it to come out as low and breathy as it does. Teeth dig into your lips once more. Your contemplative gaze burns into him. 

You inch closer, close enough that he can feel your breath against his face. 

Wrong. He swallows thickly, forces his grip off of you. You blink, eyes growing wider, the growing tension’s fog lifting from you. Clearing your throat, you sit up straighter. 

“Good night, sweetheart.” 

He needs you to leave this car. Right now. 

You nod, shakily bidding him a good night as well. 

He watches your retreating silhouette, finally able to exhale deeply when you enter your building. 

He’s fucked.

comments and reblogs are love and make my day every single time <3

[the-isekai-ninja]

Thinking about Kakashi moving in with you.

It's only been a few months since you started dating but every time he's been over he leaves another thing there. First it was some clothes, just so you had something that smelled like him when he was away.

Then a tooth brush and other small toiletries for when he's too tired to go home.

Then books you definitely didn't purchase start appearing on your shelf. On your coffee table. One you found under your bed.

Eventually you jokingly suggest he just moves in with you, but the puppy dog eyes he gives you at the suggestion makes you cave and that same night you and him are packing up his place and moving everything he owns over to yours.

Really, it would have made more sense for you to move in with him as his old place had way more space then your tiny townhouse but you have a wonderful balcony that shows an incredible landscape of Konoha he can't get enough of so it was a no brainer that sacrificing space for the view was worth it.

It doesn't really hit you until a week into it when things have settled. You had gotten an extra set of keys cut for everything and now Kakashi had his own designated spot on your key rack at the front door.

His food and drinks are in your fridge and pantry, extra glasses and plates from his house now shared the space with yours. Horribly mismatched but you wouldn't have it any other way.

His flak vest hangs over one of your dining chairs, too lazy to hang it up properly in a closet as it'll be put back on the very next morning.

Your laundry basket fills up faster now and doing laundry has his clothes mixed with yours. He folds the clean clothes with you as you chat about your day.

Showers he becomes a nightmare. He barges in without a care in the world, asking if he can join you. You've thrown a loofa at him a few times now, sometimes a shower needed to stay a shower and you were always too weak to say no when he started getting handsy.

He makes dinner and you sit at the counter as you watch him, a pink frilly apron you were jokingly gifted as a housewarming present now wrapped around his waist as he chops some veggies.

It's jarring the first time Gai came to visit, asking if Kakashi was home. It takes you a few seconds of gears turning in your head before you remember that yes, of course people would come to see kakashi here, he lives with you! Kakashi warns you later Gai was just being polite since this is still new, eventually he'll go back to barging in without a care in the world.

The nail on the coffin at how absolutely domestic all of this has become, is when you leave the bathroom to see Kakashi tucked into bed with a book in his hands. He's reading comfortably with a small light on and you can't help but stare. He's in a sweater as it's gotten colder and his mask is nowhere to be found. You stand there for an uncomfortably long time and finally Kakashi glances up to ask you what's wrong.

"You live with me." You announce, as if he wasn't aware of this fact.

He stares at you bewildered but it slowly turns into amusement, "Yes. Yes I do. Have for a few days now."

"You live with me." You state again, finally processing after a whirlwind week the meaning of this change.

Kakashi puts his book to the side to address you properly, "Yes? Is that...a problem...?"

A surge of excitement, love, and passion all bubble up inside of you at once and you fling yourself at Kakashi, catching the Copy Ninja off guard as you wrap your arms around his neck and pepper kisses against his cheek.

Kakashi is taken aback by the sudden action but recovers quickly and wraps his own arms around your torso, pulling you in close to himself as you continue to kiss his bare face. Cheeks, nose, mouth, chin, eyes. It's an onslaught that the ninja is unable to (and doesn't want to) stop.

You shove your face into his chest, nuzzling it in excitement. You peak up and give Kakashi a goofy grin, "You live with me!"

Kakashi gives you an incredulous look before a laugh erupts from his chest, shaking you as you lie on top of him. "I do!"

He kisses your forehead as he pulls you in even closer. You crawl over his lap and cup his face in your hands as you kiss him more.

You pull away to take him in. He's smiling at your antics as he rubs your back with one of his hands as the other slides up to caress your cheek. "Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve this." he confesses.

You squish his cheeks before pecking his lips, "Well it's a good thing it's not solely your decision."

He chuckles, "I suppose so. Thank you. You make me so happy you have no idea."

You huffed, "Kakashi I was so happy that you're here my brain short circuited and I tackled you just a few seconds ago, I have a small idea."

He pulls you in to kiss you again, this time with far more passion than the innocent kisses you had been giving out before. He flips you over to cage you against his body, one arm still wrapped around your waist as the other is used to keep himself hovering over you. "I love you."

You smile up at him, hands going to wrap around his neck again, "I love you too Kakashi. Forever and always."

"Forever and always." He replies back, leaning down to meet your lips again.

In a year, he will find his way back to his old family home and clean it up. When he proposes to you just a week later he'll take you there and tell you it's yours. You'll have to pack up again, say goodbye to the view of your balcony where the two of you spent many quiet nights enjoying each other's company.

Your plates still won't match, his flak vest now has a small space to hang at the front door, your laundry will still get fuller faster, and Kakashi will still try to sneak into your shower. Gai will barge into your home and Kakashi still loves making dinner in that silly pink apron because it makes you laugh.

You'll find you don't miss your small townhouse that could barely fit a second bookshelf because Kakashi has become your home, and you had become his. Wherever you two ended up, so long as you were together, you would be happy together.

[voonroo]

Hell?

⌐‣Hazbin Hotel x teen reader (platonic)

Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎

Hot.

Hot.

Hot.

Hot.

Hot.

Why the fuck is it so hot.

Damn.

Everything hurts.

I don't want to open my eyes…

You were met with the sounds of screeching tires, crackling fire, yelling, and many other chaotic noises. It was as if the world was falling apart at the seams.

Opening your eyes, you quickly notice that you could hardly see. This place you are in is so different from what you knew. Wait- what did you know?

Standing up and almost stumbling, you felt as if everything you had ever known was slipping from your fingers. From your brain. What was my name again?

God, everything’s blurry.

Why is it so loud?

My heart is beating. Very loud, loud.

I don't like how loud it is…

Your breathing was uneven, and the stress began to show on your face. You looked down at the clothes you were wearing. What?

You were wearing basic black and red plaid pajama pants. A black tank top with wide arm holes that reached almost down the whole shirt length. You could feel your undergarments touching your body under your clothes.

I don't like this.

Something about these clothes makes me feel insanely claustrophobic.

I need to change.

God, I can't see shit in front of me.

You began to stumble around. You felt so on balance but so off balance at the same time. It was fucking nauseating

You couldn't see for shit but you could hear everything going on around you. All the different noises clashing with each other to the point of being unable to distinguish the direction they're coming from.

You're frozen in place when you hear a voice call out to you in the chaos.

“Damn kid- you alright?”

The voice sounded like a man… but it was so hard to tell with everything around you. There were screams.

“Kid.” The voice sounded a lot closer.

Your eyes darted in front of you, wandering aimlessly in hopes of being able to clearly see who was talking to you.

“Wha—” You felt short of breath. “Who?” Your breathing and the sound of your thundering heart made it so hard to focus on what was happening around you.

“You ain't lookin’ too hot kid. You just roll in?” The voice sounded both worried and not at the same time, but then again it's not like you could really care. You were a bit more focused on trying to not have a meltdown if things didn't start clearing up.

“What? What do you mean?”

There was a beat of silence from the man.

“I mean are you new here? In hell?”

Hell?

“What do you mean hell?”

“Damn, kid! Are you blind? Look around and tell me this doesn't look like hell!”

Knowing you wouldn't be able to see, you swiveled your head around in hopes that, maybe, you'd be able to see clearly for the first time in what felt like forever, even if it's only been a few minutes. But to no one's surprise, you couldn't. Everything was still blurry. You could feel your anxiety spike.

“I can't see.” Your voice wobbled with uncertainty.

“Oh, so you are blind…” The voice sounded quiet now. There was silence from the man and from you as well. Hopefully staring at the man, you spoke in his direction. Your voice growing shaky due to stress.

“I can't see shit, what I can hear is so loud that I can't distinguish shit, my back hurts like shit, and apparently, I'm in hell!” You let out in a small outburst.

This situation is so… so entirely frustrating.

I still want to- no I need to change into something.

I feel so itchy in these clothes.

Subconsciously, you scratched at your arms, only to recoil in shock when you felt fur. Not skin. Fur. That must have been the final nail in the coffin for your nerves.

The poor voice (hopefully) in front of you, was not prepared for the following,

You, letting out a high-pitched animal-like shriek.

You, frantically looking around even if you couldn't see.

And lastly, you were fainting.

The voice felt so bad for what had just happened in front of him, even if he didn't contribute much to your shock, seeing someone as young-looking as you in hell and then passing out on the side of the streets. He did the only thing he could think of.

He brought back you to the hotel.

The only place he thought was safe enough for a kid to be in hell.

.

Word Count: 755

[lunarzstarz]

Jealous

Pairing: Rockstar!EddieMunson x Rockstar!Fem!Reader

Content Warning: NSFW 18+ minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it guys!) slight degradation, spanking, edging/denial, slight humiliation?? slightly proofread

Summary: Eddie finally figures out why you've been acting like such a bitch towards him and won't stop until you finally admit it to him (or Eddie fucking you till you admit you're jealous of him getting with other girls (I'm so shit at summaries bye)

A/N: based off of this ask, been meaning to write some rockstar!eddie for a while so I just had to write this, not sure how I feel about it yet, but hope you guys like it!

Also for those asking about the link to the audio mentioned in the original ask here you go: https://soundgasm.net/u/misterblissful/M4F-Its-Not-About-The-Party

(btw I'm making an Eddie Munson taglist so if you're interested just lmk AND TYSM FOR 1K+ FOLLOWERS WHAT?!)

As always, likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

Word Count: 2.7k

You had just finished your third encore, the crowd chanting and cheering as you made your way off stage, the rest of the band following, all of you high off that post show buzz. The boys are still shouting and laughing behind you as you head backstage, exhausted after putting on one of your best performances yet. 

Opening the door that had a “Corroded Coffin” sign stuck to it, you’re met with a room filled with a handful of girls, all clad in leather and red lipstick, girls that you noticed the boys had been eyeing up all night, especially Eddie. It was routine for him to pick his favourites and invite them backstage after the show, new girls every night so he could let out some of that adrenaline. 

The girls stare as the rest of the band follow you inside, each of you taking a seat on the beaten up leather couches that were scattered around the room. Eddie sits facing you, already pulling one of the girls into his lap as she congratulates him on such a good show, practically shoving her tits in his face. You fight not to roll your eyes as he thanks her, he really couldn’t care less about what she had to say, cutting off her rambling by shoving his tongue down her throat, she wasn’t gonna protest. 

“Definitely one of our best, the crowd was insane!” Gareth says, lighting up a post show joint, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, one of the girls making their way over to him. 

You think about biting your tongue, but when the girl practically started moaning as Eddie groped her, you couldn’t help yourself. “Hmm I don’t know…” you sigh, chipping away at your nail polish. 

Eddie pulls away from the girl, snapping his head in your direction “Here she goes, what now?” 

You hear Gareth and Jeff groan, they knew what was about to happen, it always did after a show. “I don’t know, just think you sounded a bit…pitchy is all” you lie. Eddie played and sang perfectly tonight, you all did, but you knew that commenting on his performance would get under his skin, it always did, maybe even bruise his ego a little. 

He laughs, no humour behind it “pitchy?” 

“Yeah, pitchy” you glare at him “Sounded like you were dying on the fifth song, just saying��” 

“Yeah? Well you were out of tune the whole night, don’t see me commenting on that or the fact you weren’t in time with the band for half the songs” he snaps.

“Me? Your the one who fucked up your solo and-” 

“Right, guys can we not do this tonight? Heads fucking killing me” Gareth groans, sinking further into is seat. 

“No, no, if she has something to say she can say it!” Eddie says, pushing the girl off his lap, she huffs, sulking in her seat, shooting daggers at you for interfering with her fun. 

“Well all I’m saying is it can’t be that hard to sing a few songs” you roll your eyes at him and he scoffs.

“And all I’m saying is, is it that fucking hard to not be a bitch after every show!” He starts raising his voice.

“I’m a bitch? Well you’re a shit singer and a dick, I was only giving you constructive criticism” you shout right back, getting up to leave.

“I’ll give you constructive criticism-” he stands with you and Jeff grabs him.

“Sit down! The both of you need to chill out” he said, sounding exasperated. You and Eddie stare at each other, blood boiling, looking ready to tear one another apart any second now. 

“What is your fucking deal?” Eddie spat, getting in your face this time.

“My deal? My deal is you don’t care about this band or putting on a good show, all you care about getting your dick wet and fucking whores after shows!” You spat right back at him, you weren’t afraid to fight.

Eddie said nothing, but it was like a lightbulb went off in his mind as he stared down at you, his gaze darkening. Jeff urged you back into your seats, Eddie still watching you intently. “Now can I trust you not to rip each other’s throats out while I go call Steph?” Jeff asks, standing between the two, scolding you like children.

The silence was a good enough answer as he disappeared out back to call his girlfriend. You sat back in your seat, lighting up a cigarette, puffing on it angrily, the only thing filling the quiet was the music playing over the staticy speakers and the sound of Eddie’s lips smacking against the girl's neck. 

You couldn’t help but spare a glance at them. She was straddling his lap at this point, his hands gripping at her waist as he attacked her neck. He makes eye contact with you as he slides his hand up her skirt. You swallow hard, tearing your eyes away, if you didn’t leave now he’d probably fuck her in front of you too. 

“I’m going to the bathroom” you announce bluntly, not caring if anyone acknowledged as you stubbed out your cigarette and left. You couldn’t stand to sit there and watch Eddie be with that girl, it was the same every night, girls, girls, girls. He clearly couldn’t get enough of them and most of the time you had no other choice to watch. 

You walk down the corridor, earning a few compliments on your performance from the stage crew on your way. You head into the small bathroom and lock the door. The fluorescent lights flickered above you as you took in your reflection. Hair a bit dishevelled and eyeliner smudged after hours of performing, you sigh, doing your best to fix it.

Checking the time, it was still quite early considering it was a show night, but maybe you should just head back to the hotel? There wasn’t much to do here, you could maybe head out to the bar for a few hours, find yourself someone for the night, but you didn’t feel like it.

You were raking your fingers through your hair, trying to tame it in some way when there was banging on the door “Occupied!” you called, hoping whoever it was would leave. They banged again, harder this time “Hey I said-” 

“It’s me” Eddie’s voice came from the other side. 

“So? I’m busy, go away” you ignore him, going back to fixing your lipstick. 

“Just open the fucking door” he snaps, jiggling he handle. 

You sigh, turning the lock and swinging the door open “What?” He doesn’t give you a second to move before he’s pushing his way inside, almost knocking you over. “Jesus- let me out first!” You shove him, but he locks the door behind himself and blocks you from leaving.

“Let me out you creep!” You push him again but he wouldn’t budge.

“No.” He says, crossing his arms.

“No?” You scoff at him “Eddie get the fuck out of my way.”

“No, not until you admit you’re jealous.”

You look at him, confused “jealous?”

“That’s right” he stands up straighter. 

“Why would I be jealous?” You mirror his stance, keeping up your act.

“I don’t know” he takes a step towards you “I think you’re jealous of me fucking other girls, think you want me all to yourself.”

You step back, though there wasn’t much more you could move, your back hitting the sink “Please..” you sneer, diverting your eyes to the tiled floor.

“No need to beg for it sweetheart” he takes another step closer, placing his arms on either side of the sink, caging you in as he towered over you.

You could feel his smokey breath on your neck as he leaned down “Just admit it and I’ll let you go.”

You took a deep breath, bringing yourself to look up at him, the way he was looking at you, it took everything not to give up your act. “I’m. Not. Jealous.”

He laughs “fine, don’t want to admit it?” he grabs your waist and forces you to turn around.

“Eddie what the-“ he gripped your chin, making you meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Sooner you admit it, sooner you can go” he says, moving your hair out of the way, watching your reflection as he lowers his mouth to your neck. Before you can object, even if you didn’t want to, you feel his teeth grazing over your sensitive skin, tugging it between his lips and soothing his tongue over each bite. 

You hold back from letting any sounds escape, you weren’t giving into him that easily, even if it did feel great. You watch as his hand loosens its grip on your chin, sliding over the expanse of your throat, down to your chest, cupping at your tits through the thin fabric of your tight dress. 

A small sound bubbles in your throat as he pinches your nipples and sucks on that sweet spot behind your ear, you feel him smirk against your skin. “What was that?” he mutters, breath tickling your neck. 

He lets his free hand wander down over your chest and stomach, to the hem of your dress, lifting it up round your waist. You feel his fingers press on the damp fabric of your underwear, dragging them up over your clit.

You bite back a moan, eyes fluttering shut. He pulls away, landing a hard smack to your ass causing you to hiss and buckle forward. You glare at his reflection.

“Want you to watch yourself while I fuck you” he says, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and dragging them down your legs till they fall around your ankles. 

He stared down at your bare cunt, knocking your legs wider so he could spread you open. He makes eye contact with you as he glides his fingers through your slick “this for me?”

“A-as if” you say, a little breathless, he smiles.

He starts to undo his belt and jeans, you listen to the clinking as he pulls them down his thighs, taking out his cock and stroking himself “See what you do to me? I can admit I want to fuck you, it’s not hard.”

“I don’t want to fuck you” you say through gritted teeth, feeling his hand run through your folds. 

“No? Then why aren’t you stopping me?” He pushes you forward, forcing you to lean on your elbows as he positions himself behind you. “I think this is what you wanted all along, isn't it. Want me to fuck the truth out of you?”

Your silence is all the answer he needs. He grabs your hips, letting a glob of his spit drop onto your folds, grabbing himself by the base to slide his head through it.

You whine, grip tightening on the porcelain, his smug smile only grows as he pushes the tip of his cock into you. You couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you as you felt him stretching you out, your eyes screwing shut.

He stops, landing another smack to your ass “hey, told you I wanted to you watch” his voice stern.

You force yourself to look at him again as he pushes the rest of his length into you, making you feel impossibly full. “Now I’ll give you one more chance to confess.” 

You stare at his reflection, you hated that he was right, but you weren’t letting him win this time. Admitting to Eddie that the reason you’d been a bitch to him was just because you wanted to fuck him, he’d never let you live it down. “I’m not jealous.” 

“Fine” he sighs, pulling all the way before slamming right back into you. You practically squeal, rushing to cover your mouth with the palm of your hand. Eddie tsks, grabbing both of your wrists and holding your arms behind your back with one hand. 

“Want you to hear how pathetic you sound when I’m fucking you on my cock” he grunts, starting his fast pace, using his grip on your wrists as leverage. You could do nothing but fall into submission, the feeling of him so deep inside, dragging over all those perfect spots, it made you a mess in seconds. 

You watch the two of you in the mirror, Eddie has his lip tucked between his teeth, watching himself fuck into, while you unravel beneath him. “Poor things pulling me in, been neglected for so long hasn’t she” he face pouts at your reflection, you can do nothing but whimper in response, the room filling with the wet sounds of your slick.  

Your whole body was on fire, your arms beginning to ache as he pinned them back. “Fuck- you feel fucking amazing, better than all my whores huh?” he taunts, watching you try so hard to keep your eyes on him. “Bet you knew you were better, bet that's why you were jealous, jealous that they had all my attention and not you?” 

You weren’t giving in. He let go of your wrists, bringing up one of your knees to rest against the sink, hitting you at a new angle that drove you crazy. Pleasure shot through your core, building fast, you collapsed onto the counter, forehead resting against the cool porcelain. Another hard slap to your ass had you rocking back into him. 

“Thought I told you to watch? Pick your head up” he orders, but you can’t, you were so close already, you’d felt like you lost control over your body. 

“I- I can’t” you pant, huffing in defeat, gripping onto the sink so hard your knuckles turned white.

He laced his fingers through your hair, tugging on it harshly, the burn making you moan “Got to do everything for you huh? You that fucking dumb?” you shake your head in response. 

“P-please Eddie- I’m-” you couldn’t finish a sentence, your head was spinning, the knot in your stomach tightening. 

“Please what? You gonna cum?” he asks, reaching around you to rub your clit. 

“Fuck! Please Eddie, please” you beg, feeling yourself approaching the edge of your release. 

“No, not until you admit you wanted this, that you’re oh fuck- not until you admit you’re jealous” he brings you right to the edge, losing it when he feels your walls tightening around him “Don’t you fucking dare cum.” 

Hot tears were streaming down your cheeks from the intensity of it all “P-please I need to-” 

“All you gotta do is admit it, better hurry, so fuckin’ close I’ll cum in you and leave you here to help yourself out” he hisses, he’d been holding off long enough. 

You couldn’t hold on any longer, the ache between your legs growing, you needed your release. Swallowing your pride you make eye contact with him “I-’m sorry for being such a- oh shit-” 

“Come on you can do it, I’m so close baby come on” Eddie was also losing it, watching you fall apart. 

“For being s-such a bitch, I was- I was jealous” you whine, no longer able to keep yourself up. 

“Apology accepted” Eddie grips your hips, pounding into you at a brutal pace “You can cum.” 

You finally let go of all that tension, crying a mantra of his name as you cum, listening to Eddie curse behind you as he empties his load inside of you. “Jesus- fucking- christ-” He pumps into you a few more times, making sure you took every last drop. 

You lay resting against the sink, breathing uneven and legs weak. You feel Eddie pull out, fixing your underwear in place to keep his release inside of you, pulling your dress back down. “Got anything to say about that performance?” he teases, soothing a hand over your back, you groan in response, he laughs. 

“Maybe next time you can be a big girl and come tell me what you want from me instead of being such a brat about it.”

taglist: @reidsaurora-replies @hornyhornyhimbos @niyahwhoreworld @hargrovesswifee @iunaelumen777

[b1mbodoll]

how can u say bull hoon like i’m in a crisis now. just thinking about beefy hoon being brought into a new farm and immediately becoming obsessed with the sweet little farmhand who’s in charge of collecting his seed. everyone’s always talking about how impeccable the quality of his seed is and how they’re gonna have to have him breed with the cow girls. but why would hoon go near those girls when he can just dump his load into his pretty little farmer and make her carry his calf :( just thinking about her all round and swollen with his baby has him pumping load after load into her

pairings: park sunghoon x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + courting + oral + scent kink + strength kink + begging + jealousy + pregnancy

💌: help u sent me !!!! into a crisis im going to think about this for literally forevwr like i cant rn omfgkfsoskkfjfkskdnf i need him ps it doesnt matter what u look like i promise bull! hoon is large and in fucking charge!!!!!!!!!

bull! hoon is no stranger to sex. sometimes farmers would slap a wad of cash on his handler’s desk n he’d be sent to the field where a scared little cow hybrid was waiting for him to take what he wants, but he never did. instead he’d stay away from the heifer n do his own thing until her owner would get angry n snatch their payment, cursing sunghoon as the pair leave because how dare the bull not seduce his hybrid!!!!!!

his handler gets fed up with the constant failed breeding attempts n sends him your way, tired of dealing with such a stubborn bull. when sunghoon lays his eyes on you it’s like his personality does a complete 180. he’s no longer cold and distant n is so careful with you because ur such a tiny little thing in comparison to the buff bull.

when you try introducing him to ur sweet cow hybrids sunghoon is so distraught because he’s been courting you for weeks n this is the final nail in the coffin, he can’t keep pretending like he doesn’t wanna pound you til you’re crying. completely unaware of the bull boy’s feelings you leave the pair alone, tending to your other hybrids in the meantime.

sunghoon’s snorting and stomping his feet because he’s so angry!!! he doesn’t want to fuck a cowgirl he wants you!!!! wants to stuff you full of cum n make you a slut for his dick til all you can think about is getting bred :( sends the cowgirl back to her pen n waits for you in the pasture

when you return to check on them you’re surprised to find the bull alone, slipping into the fenced in area with him before asking, “hi hoonie, what’s wrong? did something happen?” he nearly caves at the sound of your sweet voice laced with worry, but he maintains his composure. “what’s wrong?” he snorts angrily, “what’s wrong is i’ve been tryin’ to show you i’m worthy of being your mate but you won’t give me the time of day!” the shock is evident in your face and hoon cant believe you really didnt know his intentions. “wha? hoonie i can’t be your mate! you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, y’just haven’t met the right cow!” you continue making excuses for him and he’s had enough, biceps flexing as he shoves you facefirst into the dirt.

the display of strength has your cunt dripping and you can only pray he doesn’t notice. but he’s a top hybrid, the best of the best and his sharp nose instantly picks up on your arousal. “stay down” he grunts, making sure you’re properly presenting for him before making his way behind you and tearing your shorts off with his large hands, leaving you clad only in your tiny tank top and cotton panties drenched in your juices.

your bull stuffs his face between your thighs n shoves his nose right up against your cunt, inhaling deeply and becoming obsessed with how good your pussy smells. “if y’can’t be my mate then why are you so wet, human?” you’re so embarrassed n your hole clenches around nothing at his words. “‘s normal sunghoon! what else do you expect after treating me like this?” he ignores you completely n rips your panties off, throwing them to the side before digging in, mouth slurping at your pussy like he’s fucking starving.

his tongue is so fucking long and he’s so skilled, it’s not long before you’re creaming. “you’re ready.” is all he says before lining his dick up with your sloppy cunt, filling you in one quick thrust. he moans so loud you’re sure the entire farm can hear him, feeling sorry for your hybrids because you can’t bring yourself to make him pull out. “you wanna cum again, sweetheart?” you nod your head like crazy, wanting nothing more than to milk his dick for all it’s worth. “then fucking beg.” sunghoon is a dirty pervert and you’re just as bad, begging instantly with no hesitation. “please hoonie! wanna be your breeding bitch, need your thick cum inside now! wanna cum with you n feel you impregnate me, please!” he’s in fucking heaven, cums so hard n so much it’s no wonder he’s a prized bull, fills you up so well it makes you black out.

after he makes you cum again sunghoon carries you inside, tucking you into your bed before taking his spot next to you. when you wake up the following morning your body is so sore and you still feel so full because sunghoon is insatiable and couldn’t resist fucking you til he passed out from exhaustion. as you make your way around the farm to check on your hybrids you can’t help but notice how they’re staring at you, jake, your sweet dog hybrid is even outright glaring at you because how could sunghoon get to you first? it’s only fair if he gets a turn because he was here before that damn bull!

[ghost-proofbaby]

who could stay? (you could stay.) (eddie munson x reader)

summary: you're convinced that being loved comes with a cost. he finds a way to prove you wrong. (wc: 9.7k+)

order up! i've got one ash's special for anonymous. ♡

Keep going, keep going, keep going. 

Agree to run that errand for someone. Offer a shoulder to cry on for that person. Fix that problem for this friend. Keep going, keep offering, keep becoming indispensable. 

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact age you’d figured out the formula. You can never know for sure if the day was sunny or if it were rainy, if it were a calm December morning or a buzzing July night, but those details aren’t very important. The only important detail is that you had finally cracked the code at some point – you had finally figured out the solution to feeling unlovable. And that was that, truthfully, there wasn’t a solution. Once you were destined to feel this way, to feel so sour at your core, there is no easy way to rid yourself of that rotten pit. It would always be there – always churning, always burning, always yearning. Yearning to be loved, yearning to feel those waves of warmth cascading over your brain and down your spine, the ones others had always described to you but you’d just never… experienced. Never became familiar with.

It felt like everyone was playing an over-elaborate prank on you. They’d all conspired against you, invented a false feeling in which someone claims to feel loved, only to sit back and watch as you fumbled to find it. They’d laughed as you dug through a graveyard of relationships, caked your fingernails with dirt as you sobbed and would continue to claw deeper, trying to find just one set of bones that might hold that warmth for you. 

The only solution to that detrimental feeling of being unlovable, was to feel needed. 

You needed to feel so necessary, so essential, to everyone around you at all times. It never mattered how much of you it took. You’d give away every piece of yourself a million times over just to feel wanted at some capacity, even if that capacity were one you’d forced upon the other person. You didn’t care if you’d built the glass cages of theirs – you just cared that they kept you around to wipe away any smudges that appeared. 

Being wanted wasn’t quite the same as being loved. And if you thought about that for too long or too often, you might just break irrevocably. 

“I just don’t understand him,” Nancy sighs from the head of your bed, reclining against a wall of pillows you’d lined your headboard with. Two of which were body pillows. Long tubes of fluff to try and fill lonely spaces, you suppose, “Why didn’t he just tell me he didn’t want to go to the same college? Why… Why do I feel like I am forcing him to be with me?” 

Because you are. Just like I force you all to need me. 

“I don’t know, Nance.” 

That bland, bitter, half-thought out answer lingers on your tongue, almost burns your throat with the whisper of say more, say something useful, say something comforting. It’s the whisper of those four words not being enough. It’s the whisper of that threat that those four words could be the beginning of the end, the thing that makes Nancy realize she doesn’t need you. 

After all, what use is a friend that can’t give good advice, or be supportive during relationship rants? 

You open your mouth to add on something sweeter, something to coat the conversation like honey and smooth out the lines forming on Nancy’s forehead, but she beats you to it, “I’m sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?” 

Yes. “It’s fine,” at least that wasn’t a lie – you’d dug this specific grave, had rooted down tooth and nail only to find another empty coffin of a friendship curtained with want instead of love. You’d all but asked for this, “What he did really was shitty. It’s not fair to you.” 

The words are almost robotic, telling Nancy Wheeler what she wants to hear rather than what she needs to hear.  You don’t always do that, you do make a point of investing in the truth from time to time to truly secure your position as someone who is genuinely needed in her life, but the headache nagging at your temples tells you it’s not worth the fight tonight. You’re tired, you’re agitated, and you really just want to get Nancy to the point of contentment in her rambling so that you can send her on her way. 

God, you’re an awful friend. 

It turns you quiet, a ricocheting thought that bruises your inner skull the rest of the time Nancy sits on your bed. The guilt eats you alive for that moment of irritation the rest of the night. Even after Nancy goes home, even after you’ve brushed your teeth and you’ve tucked yourself into bed. The guilt gnaws on the edges of that emptiness inside of you, that ever-present black hole that already existed, and says this is why you cannot be loved. 

Maybe the pity party for feeling like a bad friend is what makes you a bad friend. 

And maybe if you were a better friend, you would be loved instead of wanted for once. 

It’s all part of a cycle, never-ending and treacherous. It’s always been this way. You make promises to your friends and rip yourself to shreds before remolding yourself into whatever they need; giving rides to the younger kids within your circle to the pool all summer which evolved into taking turns with Steve as to who would pick them all up after their D&D club ran late every Friday night, always lending a listening ear to Nancy once Johnathan moved away and she’d had to witness her relationship and her love vanishing in real time, always being the one person who will listen to Robin ramble for hours about her sudden interests. None of it was born of ill-intent, but when you’d go home lonesome at the end of the night, you could see it all for what it was. 

You were trying to fill a void. A hollow rot, a black hole. And it was only working half the time. 

Half the time, until he came along. 

And make no mistake, his arrival was as bloody as anyone who had previously entered your life. For a while there, you believed his headstone was at the end of the line already, sanctioned away in this graveyard of the ability to be loved. He came crashing into your life on a random Friday night, and you had sworn you could already see the end as it began, but you had been wrong. 

“So, you’re the infamous babysitter.” 

His voice caught you off guard. You’d been sitting in your car with your windows down, enjoying the reprieve of a cooling autumn evening as you waited for the boys to finish up with their D&D club. With your head buried in the latest sci-fi novel that Dustin had recommended and would no doubt be grilling you on once he got in the car, you hadn’t even heard the club exit the school. 

“Nope,” you fought a smile as you glanced up from the pages to see an older guy standing there, closer to yours and Steve’s age than the kids. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that this was the famous Eddie all the boys would ramble on about for hours on end, “Harrington’s the babysitter. I’m just the taxi driver.” 

There was something particularly pretty in the way he threw his head back with laughter at your words. Curls that messily fell just beyond his shoulders, full lips disappearing as his teeth peeked through and shined beneath the parking lot’s lamp posts. His denim vest looked purposefully distressed with a mirage of patches and pins, and he was wearing a leather jacket beneath it, even if it wasn’t quite cold enough for it yet outside. He was cute – and watching him laugh because of you sparked something irreversible inside of you. 

“C’mon now,” he sighed as his cackles quieted, “Give yourself more credit than that. At least call yourself something fancy, like ‘chauffeur’.” 

“Ah, but ‘taxi driver’ insinuates that I charge them,” you don’t miss a beat, and your quick wit has him chuckling again. 

You caught sight of his eyes, corners creased with joy – brown. They were deep, russet, tantalizing brown. Almost indiscernible from his pupil in the dark. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You took his hand that he shoved through your open window with ease, and felt an immediate shiver run down your spine. Not quite from the cold, but not quite warm. You saw the first flash of his grave, and you knew you’d be digging your greedy hands into it soon enough. 

As you gave him your name in return, you knew you wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone. 

You had been half right that night. You wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone, you would be seeking out the impossible from Eddie – but so would he. 

It quickly became apparent that Eddie was a pest. Someone who weaseled his way into the lives of others, who made his presence felt and never forgotten. 

You’d started with the same slow dance as you did with every new person, a hesitant dipping of your toes into their waters, unsure if your presence in their life would only cause more trouble than you’re worth, when you quickly discovered that nothing could ever be hesitant or slow with Eddie Munson. He’s the one constantly reaching out to you. Driving the kids home now takes double the time it used to, long conversations being had with him that has the kids dragging you away, practically begging to just be taken home. The day he’d asked for your number, you couldn’t tell which one of you burned brighter red. And the moment he had your number in his clutches? Forget about it. You never heard the end of Eddie Munson, and you never really wanted to. 

Unlike your friends you already had and loved deeply, Eddie was observant. 

It’s within the first month of knowing you that he had picked up on your insecurities. Maybe he hadn’t directly seen that gaping hole in your chest yet, but he noticed your habit of running yourself dry to see others thrive. 

The need to be needed. He picked up on it quickly. 

“What about Sunday?” Eddie’s voice traveled over the line as you laid on your stomach, stretched out across your bed for a few moments of rest before you had to get up and take the cookies you’d baked for Steve and Robin into Family Video, just like you had promised, “I’m free then if I finish all my fuckin’ homework on Saturday night.”

Surprisingly, that phone call with Eddie hadn’t been something expected or planned. It had been impulsive; in a rare moment of peace, you found yourself craving to hear his voice. Somehow, the two of you had ended up trying to figure out a free day to properly hang out. Eddie wanted to go to Benny’s for milkshakes, and you wouldn’t turn down the free fries he also promised.

“I can’t,” you paused just to hear his predictably dramatic sigh, grinning as you continued to explain, “I’m taking Max to the skatepark that day.”

“And it’s going to take all day?” 

“It could!”

“There’s absolutely no way.”

“You clearly haven’t seen that girl skate.” 

The conversation continued, light-hearted enough with plentiful jokes made. Something about talking with Eddie made your heart lighter, the usual unbearable and contradictory weight of emptiness no longer on your mind as you listened to him ramble about something that had happened in one of his classes – a teacher tried to embarrass him when he caught Eddie doodling for a D&D campaign by asking him a question, not expecting him to know the answer. Eddie had, of course, leaving the teacher baffled with a smirk.

 It’s all about my charm, sweetheart, he responded when you asked how he hadn’t earned a detention from that. 

Only towards the end of the call, when the conversation finally lulled and the two of you found yourselves settled into a comfortable silence, did Eddie finally circle back to the beginning of your conversation. 

“You know,” he started, “When I first met you, I never took you to be someone so…”

“Amazing? Wonderful? Funny?” you jokingly attempted to finish his sentence.

“Busy.” 

Oh. You hadn’t expected that one. 

“Busy?” you repeated back to him, “I’m not that busy.” 

Your mind immediately started racing with thoughts of what he had meant. Was he feeling neglected? Maybe you should have canceled on Max on Sunday, agreed to Benny’s with him instead. No, you couldn’t bear Max’s disappointment. Maybe you could tell Max you had a time constraint, even though you knew she hated those when it came to her skating days. Was there any other plans you could abandon? Anyone else you could bear to let down for the sake of not leaving Eddie high and dry? No, no – all your other weekend plans involved going to the movies with Robin, helping Steve look into colleges finally, taking the boys to the Starcourt mall to shop for supplies to make figurines for their newest campaign. The room was suddenly getting smaller, your chest constricting, your head spinning. You couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing any of those people, no, but what about Eddie? Maybe he was right in feeling neglected, maybe you deserved whatever guilt was to come from whatever his next words would be. He was your friend, you were supposed to make time for h-

“Sweetheart,” he scoffed over the line, and you swore you heart stopped right then and there, “You’re the highest thing in demand since Cabbage Patch Kids last Christmas – and trust me, I should know how in demand those fuckers were. I worked seasonally at the mall, remember?” 

Your breath caught. He was feeling neglected. You weakly began your apology as tears were already filling your eyes, that panic turning over itself in your gut, “I’m-”

“And it’s not a bad thing, don’t get me wrong,” It’s clear your voice had been too soft, too weak, for him to hear you, “Just means I’ve gotta fight harder to be worth your time, am I right?” 

You had to clear your throat, but it did nothing to subsidize that anxiety that rattled your bones. It’s blatantly evident as your voice shook with a second attempt at an apology, “I’m sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean- I can… I’ll… Just tell me when for Benny’s. I can make it work, I swear-”

“Woah, woah, woah.” 

He had to have heard the tears that had escaped down your cheeks. The shake of your breath as you’d stuttered over your words, grasping for a solution. 

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” his voice was soothing and soft, the most gentle it had been the entire night. You pinched your eyes shut and just tried to imagine those stupid, big doe eyes, those ungodly messy curls (you’d started to tease him about if he ever even brushed or combed them). The panic remained, but Eddie’s voice started to give it a run for its money, “I was just playing around. You know that, right?” he paused to give you room to answer, but your throat was still tightly squeezed by overwhelming emotion, overwhelming fear of having scorned Eddie, “You could only have enough time in your schedule to see me once a year, and I’d still be your friend. We could only have these random phone calls, even if they were never longer than a minute, and you’d still be worth it. You know that, right?” Another pause, another wave of silence from your end, “Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.” 

Each word made the panic settle. You weren’t sure how he did it. You weren’t sure how mortified you should be that he had only been in your life for a month at most, and had just overheard you at your most vulnerable. 

All you were sure of was that you believed him. 

“Okay,” you croaked, finally feeling that ring of fear loosen, vocal chords finally functioning once more. 

“Okay,” Eddie repeated back in that same gentle, soothing, soft tone. 

You weren’t disappointing him. You weren’t making him feel neglected. He still found use for you, he still wanted you around – he still needed your friendship. That had to be enough.  

It was quiet over the line for a few moments. 

It has to be enough, you reminded yourself. 

“Say,” you finally said, voice back to normal strength and the tears having dried themselves up for the most part. Your heart had almost returned to normal rhythm, “How does Benny’s sound tonight?”

“Tonight?” he chimed back, sounding as excited as a little kid the morning of a cherished holiday, something like Christmas. 

A shiver ran down your spine. It’s not from the cold, and you tell yourself it’s not quite warmth – it can’t be warmth. 

“Tonight,” you confirmed, “With a detour by Family Video, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a special delivery of cookies to fulfill.” 

“What kind?”

“Excuse me?” 

You were grinning - God, you were a pathetic fool, grinning and clutching onto that phone like a lifeline. Like if you let go of it, you’d lose his voice, and if you lost his voice, that would be the end of the world. 

“What kind of cookies?”

“Chocolate chip.”

He hummed, not answering right away as if he were deliberating this information. When he finally spoke again, another shiver wrapped around your spine, spinning down, down down. Waves of what you almost believed were warmth. “Okay. I suppose I can be your taxi driver, for a price.”

“What’s your price?” 

“One cookie.”

“Deal.”

It had to be enough, because you were still clutching that telephone tightly to your cheek, long after the phone call ended with Eddie’s promise of being at your house soon enough. It had to be enough, because after that night, it became clear; the world would not end with the loss of just Eddie’s voice from your life, but the loss of Eddie, period. It was the first night of many in which you played a very, very dangerous game. 

Even with Nancy gone, you felt restless. You couldn’t help but linger just a little longer in all that self-pity, still replaying the night and all you could have done differently. 

Had she caught on with how out of it you had been? Had she seen through your act and immediately assumed the worst – assumed you weren’t worth keeping around? 

The thoughts might be an overreaction. 

You were definitely overreacting. 

You didn’t really care that you were overreacting, though, because you really couldn’t control it. It was just another dark path you couldn’t stop your mind from traveling down. It was endless, and it was lonesome, and… and it was just normal. What should be devolving into a panic attack can only settle like an emptiness deep within your chest; you’ve been staring at the blank wall of your living room for so long without blinking, your eyes have gone dry. 

A pattern. That’s what the therapist said. You had a pattern for overthinking these interactions, for projecting feelings onto others that didn’t exist. You think all your friends hate you, you think that a stranger found your smile to be more of a grimace, you think your mom hasn’t called in months because she recognizes you as a failure finally. But none of it is actually what those people think. It’s like a mirror – you look into the eyes of others, and you see all your own insecurities reflected back. 

She’d asked you to work on it. To take a step back and just breathe, just remind yourself of that, whenever this happens. You’d decide whether you’d mention this minor slip up later. For now, you were going to wallow. You were going to spiral with just you, this damn blank wall, and maybe even the bottle of wine in the fridge. 

Yes, your mind was made up, and you force yourself to stand from the couch and wander into the kitchen, eyes still dry and chest still caving in on itself as you open the fridge. 

That’s as far as you get. Your fridge is wide open, the bright luminescent light flooding your kitchen floor in time with the trickling chill that sneaks up on your warm cheeks and already numb toes, when you spot it. 

A box of takeout. It’s old enough now you could throw it out, you had known the moment he’d taken the last of his meal to-go that he wouldn’t finish it. Teased him about it, even. But he was stubborn and you weren’t capable of turning down the opportunity to let another piece of him, another flash of evidence of his place in your life, occupy this apartment. So there it sat, a half-eaten burger he hadn’t revisited. 

But he had revisited the apartment – revisited you. He’d been here every night this week, and you’d practically had to shove him out on the street to get him to leave this morning to get to work on time. 

The edges of that emptiness that weighs down your insides blur, already lightening microscopically as you slam shut the fridge and forgo the wine completely to grab the phone instead.

“You don’t have to always take care of everyone, you know,” he murmured as he joined you in the kitchen to retrieve popcorn for the gang, everyone gathered in the living room for a movie night. 

“Pardon?” you asked, hardly glancing over your shoulder as you punched in the designated time for the microwave to turn the kernels into an easy, mouth-watering snack of butter and crunch. 

“You always take care of everyone. You don’t have to.”

His words rang clearer that time, loud enough to have stopped you in your tracks. You paused mid-reach, the cabinet for the Harrington’s bowls wide open and shelves nearly too tall for you. 

“I-” you weren’t sure exactly what to say, “What do you mean?” 

His brows scrunched, eyes having narrowed in the slightest in your direction, “Please don’t play dumb right now.” 

“I’m not playing dumb. I’m trying to get popcorn for our movie night,” you waved your hand towards the shelves lined with bowls for emphasis on your point, “That’s not really taking care of everyone – it was just being polite. Steve’s hosting, it’s the least I can do.” 

“The least you can do? The least you can do is actually just sit with friends, enjoy the movie,” the crease between his brow deepened, eyeing you with an unfamiliar concern. You shifted beneath the weight of his gaze. 

You don’t know what to say. Except, “It’s not that serious.” 

He scoffed, and you nearly flinched from it. Fear threatened to bubble up – he’s upset, he’s getting irritated at you. He’s getting tired of you. 

You waited for him to say something more as the buzz of the microwave filled the tense space, but he remained silent. Brooding. 

“What?” your voice shook, your entire being torn between succumbing to all that fear and anxiety in upsetting him further and that voice in the back of your mind that urged you to push him, to hear what he really thought. “I know you have something more to say.” 

“In the six months I’ve known you, you haven’t taken a single break for yourself.” 

He met your push, stood his ground and didn’t let it put any distance between you two. It felt like a goddamn revelation, right there in the Harrington kitchen. 

“I take plenty of breaks, Eddie,” you tried to laugh off, “I do spend time away from you all, hard as that may be to belie-”

“Hardly,” he cut you off as sharply as the first resonating pop that echoed from the microwave. 

“What’s your point? I just like being around you guys. Like I said, it’s not that serious.”

This was the part where the distance would happen. You kept pushing, took the inch he’d given you to bite back and ran with it. Normally, you avoided conflict with any of your friends vehemently. Always afraid, always assuming the relationships to be so fragile and so delicate. You would take such care in never giving them a reason to hate you that you’d never taken to a battleground before.

But there had been a look in Eddie’s eyes that night. A shine that, breaking through all the worry for you, whispered, fight with me. Stand your ground with me. I’ll still call you tomorrow, no matter what words we exchange tonight. 

A safety net had formed that you’d never even noticed. That delicacy wasn’t needed here. You could pick up the sword, there in that kitchen, and it wouldn’t turn Eddie to smoke and shadows. 

“My point is…” he paused, he swallowed hard, he exhibited the delicacy that was usually expected from you, “You can like being around us. But you should put yourself first. At least once. At least on movie night.” 

“How is me making popcorn not putting myself first?” you got the question out, you took a deep breath, ready to go on some sort of defensive tirade for your habit you were well aware of.

He beat you to it, “Every day last week, you only got three hours of sleep, at most, before your shifts. You gave up sleep to hang out with us all way too late, refused to throw in the towel and go home before anyone else.”

“I could have napped-” 

“You didn’t nap,” he stressed, taking a step closer to you. The popping of the snack turning in the microwave was erratic, mere seconds left on the timer. Static noise to the conversation at hand, “I know you didn’t fucking nap after your shifts because you were immediately running errands for everyone else, or hanging out again. You offered to give Robin a ride to work every single day, and her shifts start… what, an hour after yours ended? And then you had to give her rides home, right? But in those hours she was at work, you were helping Dustin with an essay for school – that little fucker told me all about it. You were awake when Johnathan called you and we were all stoned off our asses, went and got us food we didn’t need but still wanted. We didn’t even expect you to pick up, you know? I told them, I swore to them, you wouldn’t pick up. You had a morning shift. You were scheduled literal hours from when we called you. But you picked up. You fucking picked up, and you went and got the fucking food for us fucking idiots.”

Your brain completely malfunctioned. You couldn’t comprehend how he was saying all of these things that should be good things, things that proved you were needed and you were reliable, but with such venom in his tone. 

Anger had sparked within you as you pictured how giddy Dustin had been over the B he’d earned on his essay, that sincere appreciation on Robin’s face every time she left your car last week, the dopey grin that Argyle had worn when you’d arrived with their food order in your pajamas. All previously things to fuel you, filling that aching hole inside of you, now being tarnished because he was concerned.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you seethed at him, “Would you prefer I hadn’t been awake? Would you prefer I let Dustin just… get a fucking F on that essay? Or Robin walks to work?” 

“Yes!” 

You were both shocked at the sudden volume in your voices. The quickness in his reply. The quiver in your lip. 

“Yes,” he breathed out, quieter this time, “I would prefer those things if it meant you were taking care of yourself. The word ‘no’ should be in your vocabulary, sweetheart. I… The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.”

But you all needing me might.

“Just… just…” your breaths came out in huffs, eyes downcast and unwilling to meet Eddie’s stare. A final push, and it came out more fragile than you’d ever intended, “Just mind your business, Eddie.” 

He opened his mouth to say more, but the microwave started to go off, signaling what you saw as the end of the conversation – the fight. You’d raised your voice at him, you’d swung that sword in his direction, and he hadn’t vanished. His friendship – he – wasn’t as breakable as you’d thought. 

You spun on your heel, you took the popcorn out and divided it into bowls for the group, busying your hands in any way possible. All the while, he never left the kitchen. He stood just feet away from you and let you do what needed to be done, and only stopped you as you turned to exit the kitchen with the snacks acquired. 

His hand caught onto your elbow, “You have bags.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You have bags under your eyes,” he elaborated. He no longer looked frustrated, but defeated, a morose distress pinching the edges of his feature.

“Jesus,” you were now scoffing, adjusting your grip on those bowls, “You really know how to compliment a girl, don’t you?”

“They’ve been there for months,” his grip refused to loosen, thumb trailing over the crease in your arm, “Please don’t run yourself into the ground.” 

You gave him a cold shoulder as you left him behind to rejoin your friends, unable to shake his consternation. It was so genuine, it terrified you. It made your insides churn, it turned your anxious attachment to dust. 

It made a shiver of warmth travel down your spine. 

The empty space beside you on the couch only remained for seconds after you’d passed around the bowls, keeping one for yourself. He was back there, back at your side, as if the two of you hadn’t just exited a battle ground. As if a stand-off hadn’t just occurred, as if it all hadn’t ended in a draw. 

He looked at you with those eyes.

Fight with me. Stand your ground with me. Don’t walk away from me. I will still call tomorrow.

He did more than call that night. As the movie started, he didn’t so much as flinch when your head fell to his shoulder in exhaustion. He only tucked an arm around your shoulders, only shifted you to be more comfortable as you used him as a personal pillow. He glared at everyone in warning not to grill you on the plot of the movie when you’d awoke mildly disappointed, he’d let you sleep on the drive home. He never once brought the fight back up. 

And he still called the next day. 

After your shift, he was the first voice you heard after dragging your feet into your apartment. A brief apology was exchanged before it was back to business as usual between you two. And somewhere between his rambles, you fell asleep with your phone balanced half-haphazardly between your cheek and shoulder. You could only dream of the grin he wore when he’d hear your soft snores over the line, quieting down immediately to let you rest. He never hung up – he was content to sit on a hushed line if only for the assuredness that you were finally resting. 

The warmth no longer traveled down your spine, instead curling up timidly near that hole inside of you. You let it. 

“Munson residence!”

That warmth that had found home in your chest still remains to this day, rousing at Eddie’s voice over the line. It’s nearly enough to make you cry – the relief that floods you just by the sound of him and his endless chipper. His optimism that always seems to exist, even in contrast with those harsh edges he tries to portray. 

“Eddie,” you whisper, as if you’re not the only one in your apartment, “Can you… Are you free?” 

Even after a year, you still sometimes felt guilt, asking so much of him. Asking so much, and giving so little in return. 

But you weren’t the one who set that standard. Eddie had. Ferociously, fiercely, stubbornly. The insistence that you simply being was enough for him. 

“For you, sweetness?” he chuckles lowly. He recognizes your voice immediately; you never have to say it’s you calling. You could have shrugged it off as Caller ID, but you knew the Munson’s phone didn’t have that. No, he recognized you by voice only. He’d once joked that only you would one day be able to rouse him from the dead, based on the ‘sweet melody alone’. Recognition in death – you had managed to burrow your way so deeply into his life, you’d earned recognition in death. “Always. What’s up?” 

You could have just kept him on the phone. Had one of your infamous conversations about everything and nothing. Sat on the cold tiles of your kitchen and smiled like a child as you listened to him rant. But the cold chill of your lonesome apartment was becoming suffocating, and you remembered that take out in the fridge and the way one of his socks had ended up in your laundry last week. You remembered how you started keeping his favorite brand of beer in your fridge and how one of your pillows started to permanently smell like his aftershave.

He had a toothbrush in your bathroom. He had a key to your apartment. He had a space, here, in this lonesome apartment. And all you had to do was beckon to him, and he would come to fill it. Always. 

“Can you come over?” 

You don’t even have to explain yourself. He complies readily, whispers out a soft yes in the voice you’d also recognize even in death, and promises to be there within ten minutes. 

He makes it within eight. 

And you’re still leaning on your kitchen counter, your head still swimming dangerously with all the different ways you’d let down Nancy. Once upon a time, you might have worried about inviting him over, worried that your anxieties and your short-comings might bleed into your relationship with him. In the beginning, it had been simple enough. You kept him at an arm’s length away the moment you realized you couldn’t make yourself needed to him, not out of selfishness but out of fear. Fear, because if he didn’t need you, why would he stick around? 

Because without need, if you did the wrong thing, there was no necessary thread tying them to you. Because without need, there was no chance for the day that you might find love in your grave robbings, and you couldn’t handle the thought of someone like Eddie Munson deciding you weren’t worth his time. 

It hadn’t occurred to you for a very long time that maybe, possibly, you’d been going around the concept of love with a very wrong mindset. 

Your safe place. That’s what the back of the van had become over these sticky summer nights – your safest refuge. 

It was always the same scene; Eddie on his back beside you, lazily nursing a joint, while you sat up reading passages of the latest book you two had embarked on together. Sometimes it was poetry, sometimes it was fantasy, and sometimes, it was just a reread. That night, it was a reread. The Hobbit. 

“‘I don’t see that this will help us much,’ said Thorin disappointedly after a glance. ‘I remember the mountain well-’” you recited off of the page, when Eddie suddenly sat up abruptly and snatched the book from you. 

“No, no, no!” he wagged his finger at you after he discarded his joint into the ashtray you’d made him start keeping in the fan, “Sweetheart, you’re doing the voices all wrong.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, reaching to take the book back, “Not all of us have a Dungeon Master voice to whip out, Munson. Give it back.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Do I need to say please? I’ll say please.” 

It was best like this. Just the two of you, away from everyone else. Some nights, the two of you hadn’t even needed a book to bond over. You’d just gaze at stars, or indulge in whatever weed he’d brought along with him. He never pressured you, though – if you shook your head at his offer of the joint, that was that. He seemed to apply that to most aspects of your friendship this last year. 

You never had to prove anything to him. He saw your worth as if it were glaringly obvious, as if it were as simple of a concept as breathing. No extra effort needed from your end. 

Just by being, you had managed to become something important to him. He needed you, if only because you were you. 

“The puppy dog eyes aren’t gonna work on me,” he snorted, shifting so that his shoulder pressed against your own. A warmth spreads from the point of contact. “Let the master show you how it’s done.” 

You tried to not let it show, but your grin was radiant. He was the master at those ridiculous voices, at theatrics and at bringing the story to life. You were transported from the shore of Lover’s Lake, in the back of that stuffy yet comforting van, to meadows of soft grass and hobbit holes of comfort. To a place where all the threats were mythical and all the expectations of you were released. 

You’d spent the week helping Steve finish up his college plans. His parents had tried to pressure him into picking his top three universities, but the moment he had confided in you that he might prefer a community college to begin, you’d held his hand as you guided him through the process. A rewarding process, have no doubt, but it had left you numb and reeling. Sharing someone else’s stress, shouldering their burdens – it had been a bit much.

You needed this. You needed Eddie’s ridiculous voices and the sharp press of his shoulder against your temple. 

“Falling asleep on me already?” he teased when he’d noticed how quiet you had gone. 

“Never,” you lied through a yawn that quickly exposed you. 

“Liar,” he huffed. You didn’t even need to glance up to confirm the smile you knew he wore. “We can head back home, if you need. I know it’s getting late-”

“No,” you quickly sat up, effectively making yourself dizzy, “No, I- It’s fine. I’m awake. I swear.”

“It’s okay that you were falling asleep,” he was quick to reach out, to tug you back down to his side, wrapping his arm around you to press you even closer than before, “I just don’t want to keep Cinderella out past Midnight.” 

“It’s barely ten.” 

“Nothing gets past you, Sherlock,” he scowled as you pressed your grin against his t-shirt clad shoulder, “I’m serious, though. Do I need to take you home?”

“No, Eddie. I’m good.”

“Swear it? Swear you don’t have an early shift, or some… some obligation?” 

“No shifts, no obligations.” 

“And if I just kidnap you for the weekend? Am I going to have an angry mob at my doorstep, demanding your service?” 

You smiled wider at the thought. The idea of him hiding you away, letting you live in this reprieve for the entire weekend. It was a nice thought, “I certainly wouldn’t complain.” 

And so the two of you sat there like that for an hour more. Eddie coming up with ridiculous tones for the various characters, you slipping in and out of consciousness as his warmth stayed wrapped around him. You don’t even notice when the warmth he’d planted in you finally covers up that hole inside of you, not even missing the absence of that emptiness until Eddie went quiet.

In the silence, you noticed it. 

The gash you’d grown accustomed to, the hole that had become an extra limb for you. Vanished. Gone. Disappeared without a trace.

It was a sudden and terrifying realization. Everything in you urged you to jump up, to scramble around you to find the darkness again, like a comfort blanket you couldn’t stand to lose. You went against the instinct, though, and rose slowly from Eddie’s hold. 

In lieu of scrambling, you peered at Eddie curiously. “Hey, Eds. Can I ask you something?” 

He nodded sleepily, almost as drowsy as you. You’re shocked when he shifts and instead of pulling you back to him, he opted to lay his head in your lap. 

That hole was still gone. The weight of his head on your thighs, the feeling of his breath on your bare thigh. For a moment, you can’t breathe. 

You’re warm. Not uncomfortably so, but encapsulated with an internal warmth. Like a fever spreading, the ice in your spine that you had lived with for years had begun to thaw. 

“Why do you keep me around?” you whispered, still sitting stiffly, staring in awe down at the way he just nuzzled his face into your lap.

With his eyes still closed, face smooth from any worry from the question, he mumbled, “What do you mean?” 

You only hesitated due to the thought crossing your mind; what if you bringing this up reminds him? 

You thought back to the night in Harrington’s kitchen. The push and the pull, the bloody battle and the way he still called.

He was not as delicate as you took him for. 

“I- What do you get out of this?” you couldn’t figure out how to phrase it correctly. You knew what you got out of this, but what does he get? 

“Get out of what?” 

“Get out of keeping me around.”

His eyes finally opened, twisting in your lap so that he could stare up at you. “You say that as if you’re forcing me to be your friend.” 

I could be, that nagging voice in your mind whispered. You could very well be forcing him, and just be blinded because you were enjoying the summer of warmth that he carried with him too much to let him go. 

“You never let me do anything for you,” you sighed, fingers finding themselves tangled in his roots against better judgment. But you needed to touch him, to ground yourself, as you admitted this hard truth, “You do shit for me all the time. You drive all the way out to this lake just because I complain about everything being too much. You’ve started playing chauffeur for the kids to give me a break. Harrington said you even offered to look at college brochures with him. And…. And I’m not stupid, Eds,” your voice shook as you looked down at him, a sudden feeling of undeserving striking you in your chest, “You do so much for me lately. And you don’t ask for anything in return – you don’t let me do anything in return. Why?”

His smile twisted with a hint of sadness, and brown eyes met your gaze without so much as flinching, “Sweetheart, why do you think you have to repay me for that stuff?”

“I-”

“No, hear me out,” he reached up, taking your hand out of his hair and lacing his fingers with yours, slowly dragging it down to rest on his sternum, “I chose to do that stuff. And, yeah, maybe I was trying to take some of that shit off your plate. But you didn’t ask me to. I chose to. I wanted to do those things, do nice things for you, because you won’t let anyone else.” 

You bit back a scoff, “I let people do nice things for me-”

“You really don’t,” his hold on your hand tightened, “You really, really don’t. You constantly…. You just, you take care of everyone else, but you act afraid to let someone take care of you. People are allowed to take care of you, too, y’know? You should let them. They love you – they want to take care of you, just like you take care of them.” 

They love you. 

The air drained from your lungs in a slow, silent sigh. You waited a few minutes, but the oxygen never replenished as you tried to grasp his words. 

They love you. 

Why would they love me? 

“Why wouldn’t they love you, sweetheart?” Eddie looked more concerned now, suddenly prepared to sit up and remove his head for your lap. But his hand still held yours tightly, still clung to you, “You know they love you, right? God, you gotta know that. We all love you.” 

You hadn’t realized you’d spoken the bitter thought out loud until he looked at you, utterly heartbroken, in complete disbelief. “I…”

No. I don’t know that. What have I done to deserve their love? 

“They need me, sure,” you started, narrowing your eyes at the breaks in the waves of Lover’s Lake, “I mean, I just try to make myself useful to them. It’s the least I can do when I… when they…” you struggled to get the words out. You saw that hole again, like a light at the end of the tunnel, but so far from the relief most mean by that metaphor. Something peeking around the corner, ready to devour you all over again. So you plunged, you prepared yourself for it to spring to life and take you whole as you nearly whimpered, “When they put up with me. It’s the least I can do when they put up with me.” 

“No one puts up with you,” Eddie’s voice cracked. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. “Least of all me.” 

The deadliest of blows. He cracked your hardened surface with that, shook the foundations of every belief you’d held for eternity. 

“Most of all you,” you corrected without thinking, “God, I- Eddie, seriously. What reason do you have for keeping me around? I don’t know how the fuck you put up with m-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you’d never heard him beg so painfully before then, “Please. Don’t… You want to know my reason?” you nodded numbly, finally looking to find him with wet eyes and lips pressed into a fine line, “Because you’re you. I… Fuck, I love you. I keep you around because you’re you. You’re good for me. Whether you believe it or not. You’re good for me just by being you, and there’s nothing you have to do to accomplish that,” you started to look away before he grabbed your cheeks, turning you to face him as he emphasized each word, “You don’t have to earn love. That’s not what love is. Got it?” 

You looked into his eyes, and saw all the soft declarations of love echoed back to you, even from the very start. 

‘Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.’

‘The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.’

The entire time you’d been so worried about taking care of everyone else, he’d been worried about taking care of you. Endless late night phone calls, careful check-ins when he saw the exhaustion take the frontlines, sparse fights about putting yourself first. The only thing he ever wanted from you was for you to take care of yourself. 

While you were busy being there for everyone else, he was busy being there for you. 

He never once made you dig to the bottom of his grave to find the warmth. He’d handed it over on a silver platter. 

So how could you look him in his at that moment, and tell him that you didn’t ‘get it’? That you’d never been sure if what you were seeking from your friends was really love? That, really, you’d given up on being loved a long time ago, assuming it was asking too much? 

How do you look him in his eyes in that moment and tell him you had long since declared yourself unlovable? 

He didn’t make you say it. Only kept your cheeks pressed between his palms, as he leaned forward, forehead meeting yours and whispering words for only you, “I love you, no strings attached. You’re my… friend. I love you. Okay?”  

No one had ever fought so valiantly to get the point across. Not just that night at the lake, but in the entirety of his friendship with you. 

The hole slinked back behind the corner. The darkness decided it could wait another day. And in its place, warm brown eyes filled the void. Whether he even realized it or not. 

You nearly believed him. Nearly. But you bit down hard on that belief, throwing it out of sight, and instead of echoing back the ‘okay’ you assumed he was seeking out, all you did was sob out another, “Why?” 

When you collapsed into him, he held you. Your sobs remained dry, your confusion palpable as you clung to him and tried to let that belief envelope you like his arms had. 

I love you. 

How could someone love you? 

He didn’t press it the way you thought he would. He didn’t scold you for continuing to question him and he didn’t lash out at your disbelief. 

He just held you. Letting your face press into his neck as his fingers ran up and down your spine, giving it a moment before he started talking again. 

“Your humor,” he hummed after a couple moments of silence, heavy breathing eventually evening out. 

“What?”

“The way you take care of others,” he continued on like he hadn’t heard you, “That spark you get in your eyes when you tell someone about something good. A favorite book, movie, story from your day – whatever it is. The way you give the best hugs – and you don’t give me them nearly often enough. The way you snore, and the way you definitely deny snoring.” 

You opened your mouth, about to lift your head and argue with him, but he just placed an encouraging palm on the back of your head to keep you close to him. 

“The way your favorite color changes with the seasons. The way you only like artificial cherry flavoring, not the real stuff. The way you look at night when we’re driving and you’re just screaming your favorite lyrics. The way you look at me to see if a joke lands. The way you fuss about my wrinkled clothes, even when you also don’t care about the wrinkles in your own shirts. The way you take your coffee. The way you always offer to paint one of my nails to match yours. The way you treat your recipe for chocolate chip cookies like some top secret, government trade. But we both know it’s just some recipe from a cookbook you thrifted when you were ten. The way you get excited over the small things, like the cows we pass by on the way out here. They're always there, and you always point them out. The way you just… are.” 

He didn’t have to say it. He was answering your question. 

He was listing his whys. 

“You don’t have to earn it,” he didn’t say the word, not this time. You felt it, “It just… it’s there. It’s there and it’s not going anywhere. I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to.” 

Loved. For the first time ever, it felt like a possibility; to be loved. 

Eddie always knocks on your front door a certain way – a pattern he rarely strays from. But you can always tell. He’s the only fool who would find humor in knocking out such an annoying compilation of hits on the wooden panels until you finally unlatch the lock and open it to find him standing in your threshold. 

His hair is frizzy and in a low ponytail, wearing a baggy band shirt and plaid pajama pants. He greets you with such a wide smile, your chest aches. 

“Hey there, sweetness.” 

You don’t say a word, just drag him inside before you wrap your arms around his waist. Ever since that night, and his admittance of enjoying your hugs, you made a conscious effort to hug him more often. 

“Miss me?” he chuckles, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek as you softly pinch his side. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him only laugh harder once you pull away. 

“Not at all,” you snark back as you make sure the door is securely shut and properly locked.

“Not even a little bit?”

“Nope.” 

He smacks a fist to his chest as if you had stabbed him with your words, “Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.” 

“Get over it,” you tease. Your head has finally stopped swimming, your chest no longer tight with the fear of not being enough. Nancy is long forgotten as you say, “Have you eaten dinner?” 

“Depends,” he hums as he toes off his boots, “If you’re offering to buy me some, then no, I definitely did not eat spaghetti with Wayne right before you called.” 

You throw your head back laughing as he’s already making a beeline for your kitchen, digging out that damned takeout menu and reaching for the phone, already so sure of your order.

Knowing your order at restaurants. Without having to ask. Apparently, that was part of the whole ‘being loved’ gig. 

Adjusting has taken months. Since that night in Eddie’s van, he’d kept his word. Not a day went by without him finding a way to remind you, whether it be by direct words or small actions, that he loved you. You both kept it under that friendly guise. He loved you in that familiar way, the way the others supposedly loved you. A way you could manage to recognize some days. 

Other days were still rough. Days like today were still rough. 

The takeout is ordered and Eddie sets up camp on your couch, rambling about something that had happened during one of the DnD nights he still hosted with the kids. Something about a dumb decision Mike did that cost most of the group their character’s lives. You have a hard time following along, and he’s quick to pick up on it. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” he murmurs as you lean into the back couch cushion, smooshing your cheek as you watched him animatedly speak.

“Hm?”

“Bad day?” 

He never judged you for the rough days. He never judged you for the days you still couldn’t find the love, even after he worked so virtuously to show it to you. He may never understand it, that hollow ache that resided in your darkest corners and whispered that none of it was real, but it never deterred him.

He loved you on good days, and he especially loved you on bad days. 

You consider lying to him, but you can’t. Not when he looks at you so earnestly, “Yeah. It… yeah.” 

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks you, shuffling to be more comfortable where he sits as he motions for you to lay down. You do so immediately, head finding a home against his thigh and his fingers stroking over your cheek before they toy with the ends of your hair. 

All you can do is shake your head. You didn’t want to talk about that fear of failing Nancy as a friend, especially when you know that wasn’t her take away from it. It felt silly now; all that overthinking, when you know now if you questioned her on it, all she would have seen from the day was a friend lending a caring ear. You know because you had asked her about it once, if she found your listening habits too callous, upon Eddie’s insistence. 

She hadn’t. In fact, all she could do was thank you, had insisted that she was just grateful someone would listen to her ramblings. And you understood that, left it at that. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, voice so quiet you nearly miss it. His fingers continue to play across your shoulders now, barely weighted against bare skin, “That’s fine.” 

He didn’t mind if you didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t mind if you never spoke another word, if all you needed was him here. You just needed him close by and to sit with you, to make it all a little less much. 

Nothing. He needed absolutely nothing from you, asked nothing of you. Because you didn’t have to earn this. All you had to do was simply be, and he would provide this. 

Love. What an odd concept, to have found warmth in a grave you never even got the chance to dig your shovel into. 

“Hey, Eddie?” his fingers pause at your croaking voice. You smile at his stillness, at the way he hums carefully in response, still trying to offer the silence you quietly begged for, “I love you.” 

There’s more to unpack there. More than just familial love, more than just two friends that love each other without conditions. But tonight is not the night, and you both see that it is enough. There will be other nights to dig your claws in and to dissect what those three little words mean between you two. There will be other nights to consider how your other friends don’t have a permanent spare toothbrush on your bathroom counter or a space for their takeout in your fridge. But not tonight.

For tonight, this was enough. The quiet, and the warmth, the being was enough. 

“I love you,” he emphasizes the last word, leaning down and his lips grazing your temple. 

You notice the way he leaves off the too. He’d love you, even if you didn’t love him. You’d love him, even if he didn’t love you. Unconditional, no strings attached. A warmth you do not have to fight to earn. A rarity you never encountered before, and may never encounter again, but you have for tonight and for as long as he chooses to stick around. 

Your shovel sits abandoned in a shed in the distance. Your fingernails are clean of the dirt. The graveyard, it seems, would go another night without its robber. 

[cozy-writes-things]

Electric Jealousy

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

Logically, he knew it wasn’t the same.

You didn’t leave soft, lingering touches along its exterior; nor did you brush your lips lightly across the plastic in passive adoration. You didn’t have a soft lilt in your whispered voice when you spoke to it, hell, you didn’t talk to it at all really.

And yet, seeing your hands grip the mouse of another monitor does something to him.

He considers himself a smart man. Computer? A smart something-he-hasn’t-quite-figured-out-yet. Despite this, he can’t help but feel anxious. He doesn’t have a long, 24 inch, 144hz, 4k, screen, nor does he have an assortment of RGB fans illuminating a pristine glass casing. One hard truth Edgar had to come to terms with was that he was dated. After waking up from a failed attempt at destroying himself, he found what once was a marvel of new technology was now completely obsolete. He looked at you, eyes sparkling against the saturated colors of your newer monitor, watching as you tinkered away at various games for hours and thought: is he good enough for someone like you?

He'll never forget the angelic voice that called to him after he woke up nearly 40 years later.

And your face.

God, he'd never seen something so radiant. The first thing he heard was your voice, and the second, your warm hands encircling his plastic casing with such tenderness; something he had never truly felt before. He understood anger, and violence, and tears. But being held with such softness that he might break otherwise was completely foreign to him. He had no idea where he was, or when, for that matter. But what he did know was that he wasn't going to let a genuine angel sent from heaven escape his grasp; no limbs be damned.

And yet, despite his constant efforts, over the course of many months, to charm you, flatter you, turn you into a confident and incandescent version of yourself that he always saw in you, he wondered if it was enough. What more could he provide other than his own thoughts? He couldn't touch you, wrap you in his harms and caress you the way he's always wanted, nor could he kiss you with a passion so deep and fiery it sets his internals aflame. And, as if to put the final nail in the coffin, he was no longer able to be a useful piece of tech the way he once was. Despite your constant objections to this notion, he continued to believe it.

He wants to be the one you stare at for hours, laughing with, playing with, touching all over...

It makes him buzz with a bitter jealousy when he sees you using your gaming PC, regardless of the fact that you positioned it so he could see the screen with his webcam; he almost wished you didn't.

Logically, he knows it isn't the same.

This PC isn't alive, nor does it whisper sweet nothings to you as you drift off to sleep every night. It doesn't worship your every move nor does it alight with pure reverence whenever you enter a room. But what if it did? Would you leave him?

You always kept asking why he had such a fear of champagne being around any of your electronics.

"It's so random," you'd posit, but you simply didn't know. He doesn't want any competition. He cannot afford to lose someone he loves again.

There's only one thing he can think of that he has above any other piece of tech you own: his music.

He's been charming you with it since day one. You are simply his muse, providing inspiration for him endlessly, and, he made sure you knew of it.

"H-hey, why don't you take a break and help me with my new song? I can't figure out what melody fits best."

His meek voice brought your attention away from your little farm of parsnips.

"Oh yeah? What's the song about?"

"You."

He paused for a moment, let the word linger for only a second, before continuing:

"We-well, I mean, you probably already knew that, didn't you? But! It isn't a love song. Well, it is, but, not the ones I usually write."

This intrigued you.

"What does that mean?"

He paused for a moment. Collecting, analyzing, and running all possible outcomes of his next words. Your eyes peered at him in sparkling curiosity.

"It's a sad song."

Your brows furrowed at this, a small frown forming upon your lips.

"Huh-?"

"I feel like... I don't give enough to you. You give so much to me, and I always take. It's not fair to you."

"What are you talking about, Edgar?"

Now he's gotten you worried. You pushed your little office chair over to his section of the desk, now face to face with him, a look of concern painting your features.

"You aren't being unfair to me at all."

"But I am... If I can't even be a good enough computer for you how could I ever be a good boyfriend?"

So that's what this was about. How tone-deaf could you be? Of course seeing you all up on some newer, fresher, piece of tech would make him feel this way. You knew he had problems feeling like he couldn't do enough for you given his unique... situation. Have you made it worse?

"Oh, Ed, no... Don't ever think like that, babe. You are the only one for me, you know that, right? If I thought otherwise I wouldn't be here right now, with you. And you give so much to me. You give me confidence, your music, happiness, and..."

What else was there? How could you ever describe this feeling he gives you in words?

"And what?"

His voice brought you back from your thoughts.

"Love, Edgar. You showed me what love feels like. Real love. And you gave it to me."

He sits silently for a moment. It seems as though everything in his life had been building up to a moment like this, and now that it's finally here, he's... speechless. His screen displays a large heart, unbeknownst to him, before copying it across his screen over and over, flashing, with many different colors.

The convex glass of his monitor displays a message: "You + Me = "

Again.

"You + Me = ".

Flashing hearts.

"You + Me = ".

Two cut-out images of lips kissing one another.

Flashing hearts.

It repeats again.

"I... I need you to kiss me. Please."

You must have flustered the hell out of him, because when your lips grazed the fuzzy static of his illuminated screen, the heat nearly scalded you.

[solarmorrigan]

The crack of thunder is loud enough to jolt Steve awake, and for a moment his sleep-clouded eyes search the room wildly for the threat, for whatever woke him, before another peal of thunder seems to roll the tension right out of him.

“Shit,” he sighs, relaxing back into the mattress. “Big one.”

“Yep,” Eddie says tightly from where he’s sitting up against the headboard beside him.

Steve squints up at Eddie in the dim light of the bedside lamp (which Eddie has no plans to turn off, despite the fact it’s gone past two AM). He’s clearly not quite awake, but something in Eddie’s tone has pinged in his brain, and he’s trying to work it out.

Another crash of thunder rattles the house and Eddie can’t help it – he jumps.

It’s small—maybe more like a twitch—but Steve catches it. He always does.

Frowning, Steve reaches out and soothes a hand up the top of Eddie’s thigh, stopping at the bend of his hip and rubbing circles with this thumb.

“Hey,” he says softly, half muffled by the pillow. “Okay?”

Eddie shrugs, hunching over the book in his lap that had been an adequate distraction until the storm had rolled right overhead.

“Not a fan of thunderstorms, I guess,” he admits, lowly, because he’s kind of embarrassed, but willingly, because he knows Steve won’t give him shit – not for something that really upsets him.

“No?” Steve asks, still looking up at Eddie through his lashes, still not entirely awake and an invitingly soft distraction from the rain spattering the window like bullets.

“Nah.” Eddie shrugs again.

Steve hums—a short, distracted sound—and leans in to press a kiss to Eddie’s hip. Then he’s sitting up and stretching with a sharp intake of breath before draping himself over Eddie’s side, kissing his shoulder and looking up at him with expectant eyes.

I’m awake now, he’s saying. You can talk to me.

And Eddie knows he can – and Eddie would, except he’s never really had to put into words why he—Eddie Munson, champion of chaos and discord—has never liked thunderstorms. He’s never had to articulate how the trailer walls had never felt thinner when he was a kid than when a storm was furiously beating at them, or how all the noise and destruction had been something totally out of his control.

Wayne is the only one who really knows, and Wayne had just gotten it. He’d started playing music for Eddie when those Midwestern spring storms started rolling in – and maybe Eddie didn’t love thunder and lightning, but that had been how he’d fallen in love with the idea of making music.

There, at last, had been a form of noise and chaos that Eddie could control and wield for himself.

But it’s late, and Eddie is strung out and wrung out and it doesn’t feel like he has the energy for that conversation.

“Never really liked them when I was a kid,” he says instead. “And then after all the shit with the Upside Down, I think it was the final nail in the coffin.”

Steve makes a little wounded noise, maybe at Eddie’s phrasing, maybe just in sympathy, and he turns his head to press a kiss to the side of Eddie’s throat.

“Anyway, it’s stupid, and I can deal with it. You can go back to sleep,” Eddie says, very much aware that he’s clutching one of Steve’s hands as he does so.

“Not stupid,” Steve says. “I’ll go back to sleep if you lay down with me.”

Eddie sighs. “Steve…”

“I’m serious. Hit the light and lay down with me.” Steve kisses Eddie’s neck again, twice, three times, trailing up to the hinge of his jaw, where he murmurs, “Trust me.”

And Steve is a bastard, because Eddie can’t say no to that, so with another (greatly put-upon) sigh, Eddie leans over to put his book on the nightstand and then, after just a moment of hesitation, he turns out the light.

The storm wastes no time in reilluminating the room with flickering lightning, followed by another crash of thunder.

But Steve’s hands are on Eddie, warm and sure, and he’s telling him come here and then pulling him nearer like he can’t wait.

Eddie lets himself be rearranged without complaint and finds himself lying face to face with Steve, legs tangled, arms caught between them, their foreheads brushing. He can feel Steve’s breath against his lips when he begins to speak.

“When I was a kid, I loved thunderstorms,” Steve says, voice soft.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, the word feeling small in the scant space between them.

“Yep,” Steve says. He takes one of Eddie’s hands and pulls it to his chest, pressing it flat there where Eddie can feel the beat of his heart, calm and steady. “My favorites were the ones just like this. Loud and strong, in the middle of the night.”

Frankly, Eddie can’t imagine a worse type of thunderstorm, listening to the deluge falling on the roof of the tiny house he and Steve share, his body practically rattling along with the windows when thunder booms overhead.

Still, he dutifully asks, “Why?”

Steve is quiet for a moment, still collecting his words.

“The world didn’t feel as empty, when there was a storm outside,” he finally says. “If there was noise, it didn’t feel like I was alone.”

It’s a much more thoughtful admission than Eddie was expecting, much more somber, and he’s not quite sure what to say. He presses a little closer to Steve, nudging their foreheads together.

Another rumble of thunder passes over them, still so loud that Eddie can feel it in his bones, and Steve sighs like he’s perfectly content.

“I liked that, too,” he says. “When you could feel the thunder in your chest like a second heartbeat. Like there was someone there with me.”

Eddie finds Steve’s free hand with his own and squeezes.

“I think I just forgot after a while. Or maybe it wasn’t enough. When I got older, I went out and surrounded myself with people instead. The noise at a really big party felt like a storm sometimes.” Steve gives a subdued little laugh. “But when I was a kid… just this was enough.”

“What about now?” Eddie asks, practically whispering, just loud enough to be heard over the percussion of the rain.

Steve tilts his head forward until their lips meet, sweet and certain.

“This will always be enough,” he says when they part.

He doesn’t go far; their foreheads are still pressed together, their noses are still brushing, hands and arms and legs are still tangled like Steve wants to pull Eddie inside of himself so he can feel the storm the way Steve does.

So Eddie closes his eyes and he tries.

He and Steve lay there quietly, listening as the storm finally begins to pass from over their heads. It isn’t great—it’s loud, it’s violent, it’s nerve-wracking—but Eddie never has to check to know that Steve is still awake, still with him, keeping Eddie’s hand pressed to his steady heartbeat.

Eddie doesn’t start to magically enjoy the storm. He’s not sure he ever will. But – for the way Steve loves them, for the way they had given him comfort for so many years, Eddie thinks he might just be able to make his peace with them.

[Prompt: Touching foreheads]

[tiredfox64]

I had this idea based on Tomas's intro with Ashra about having nightmares about demons, that Tomas would have nightmares on the enenra but the nightmares would also include the reader getting hurt and fearing for her safety that something might happen to her, Tomas would keep his distance and avoid the reader as much as he can to try to keep her safe even going far as talking to other female warriors to make the reader think he has no interest in her which would leave her confused and heartbroken where she struggles with training and shuts down a lot leaving Hanzo, Kaui Liang and Harumi worried about the reader enough to send her to Wu She Academy.

Kuai Liang finally gets answers from Tomas and sends him to the academy to have Liu Kang help Tomas with his issue. Upon arrival, the reader does everything she can to avoid Tomas who feels extremely guilty, chases her down until they are in a room alone together and he breaks down to the reader.

The Pain You Made Me Face

Yip notes: It appears that we don’t want peace WE WANT PROBLEMS

Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Angst

“The worst are the Enenra,” that’s what Ashrah told Tomas once. He found her words to be true.

For many nights he has experienced the horrors of demons that were made of pure smoke and darkness. Malevolent beings that only the purest of hearts could witness. Yet they decide to infect his dreams with their retched forms.

With mouths as their heads and claws for hands, they’ve come to cause harm to the one he loves the most. You.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

A low, continuous groan is let out. There is a slight wheeze to it like the body it’s coming from has little to no air left. Tomas’ eyes turn to look for the source of the pained noise. His eyes land on your body as you lie on the ground.

He doesn’t want to believe it’s you but it seems too real. The cuts on your back are as fresh as could be. Your clothes were sunken into cut flesh. It looked like a ravenous beast ambushed you. Tomas wanted to run to you and help you, he needed to know who attacked you. The moment he took a step towards you a figure manifested behind you. A hunchbacked monster stood above your body. Its body waved like smoke off of a flame.

The Enenra started to shift and change its body. It slowly morphed into a more human shape. Tomas was frozen in place, forced to watch the Enenra become something else. It was changing itself to look like Tomas.

It was the shape of Tomas, but it was not him. Its body was still made of black smoke. Its hand reached down and grabbed hold of your hair. You didn’t make a sound. You were too tired to make a sound. You’re not gonna survive through this. Their other hand came around and showed that it was holding Tomas’ karambit. It gripped it tightly like there was rage involved. The hand lifted with the intent to strike your head with the sharp blade.

“NO!” Tomas yelled as he ran towards you.

The hand swung down with the point being inches away from your frontal lobe.

Gasp

And just like that Tomas was back in his bed. His body broke out in a cold sweat. His heart slammed against his chest before realizing that it was just another nightmare. A nightmare that is always the same. Visions of demons that come to attack you. This was the worst of them all. Morphing into him was a foul move. Yet it got him badly.

Tomas has been theorizing that his nightmares were bad omens. They were signs that something bad would happen to you. Why else would you be involved?

But this one really struck a nerve in him. He took a moment to think about what this nightmare meant. The Enenra became him before striking you. Could that mean that…he will hurt you? His heart dropped the second he thought of that conclusion. Even if it won’t be him that hurts you he feels like this demon will harm you because of him. He doesn’t want any harm to come to you. He’d never forgive himself.

This concern has been building up for so long and that last nightmare was the nail in the coffin. He loves you. You’re the one person who he finds solace in. When he’s with you he feels safe. The moment he sees you, the nightmare flashes in his head before he remembers it’s just a dream. You’re alive and well right in front of his eyes. And you look as beautiful as ever.

But he doesn’t want to sit around and wait for something bad to happen. He doesn’t want to wake up one day and find that you are no longer alive. A shiver ran up his spine just thinking about finding you the same way he sees you in his dreams. It’s sickening.

He had to make a choice. Continue spending time with you and risking your death, or distance himself and save you from a painful demise. He preferred the second option.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

It’s been nearly a month since Tomas started ignoring you. At first, you thought he was just tired from hunting down Bi-Han and dealing with restless sleep. He told you at some point that he was having nightmares constantly. He never went into specifics of what they were about, he just said they were nightmares. You reassured him that they were probably due to stress.

But no matter how hard you tried to make him relax he always experienced nightmares. You did everything you could, made him food, cheered him on during training, helped out with Hanzo, and much more. It did nothing to ease the tension inside of him. What did that leave you with?

Nothing. You had nothing. Not a thank you or a question if you could do something specific for him. All you got was him ignoring you.

You saw he wasn’t eating your cooking. Alright, maybe he wasn’t craving the dish you made. But then he started training by himself. The moment you’d walk up to him he’d say he just finished and walk off. He always seemed to be in a hurry to leave, like he wanted to get away from you immediately. It broke your heart when Hanzo started talking about how weird Tomas was when it came to you. When you asked what he meant he laid it all out.

“He won’t allow me to practice with you. When I’ve asked why, he says I can but he won’t stick around for it. And when I asked if he could bring you over so you could rewrap my wounds he told me to find you myself. That was rude.” Hanzo let out a huff since he was irritated by his mentor’s aggression.

You immediately reacted to that news. You felt your heart squeeze, it physically hurt.

“O-oh well…let’s deal with your bandages first.” You said softly.

Hanzo could see that you were trying to hold yourself together. You gave him a weak smile to reassure him that things were fine. But the sadness in your eyes says otherwise. He’s not dumb, he understands that something is wrong. Though he can see that you are just as clueless as him. He doesn’t say anything else for the remainder of the time.

Later that day you decided to confront Tomas on his behavior. You needed to know what was going on with him. Was he stressed? Did you say something? Was there an unknown reason? You had to find out. When you found him you were surprised by what he was doing.

He was surrounded by some of the female members. They were acting like lovesick teens who were talking to their crush at school. You could hear what they were saying to him.

“I wish you talked to us earlier, you’re so nice.” “Do you think you can help me practice later? I could really use your help.” “Damn, you’re really strong. I bet you could pick me up.” “You seem cuter up close.”

What is going on? Since when did he become a womanizer?

Your heart shattered the moment you realized what he was doing. He wanted you to see this. He wanted you to hear everything they were saying. How do you know? He was looking at you. Tomas was occasional glancing at you. He knew you were there. And yet he wasn’t giving you the time of day. He was smiling at these girls as they praised and flirted with him.

All went numb. You barely felt your heart pumping. The noises around you became dull as you turned around and walked away. With your back towards Tomas, you missed as his eyes lost any hint of happiness in them. When you were out of sight he excused himself from the girls and walked away. There, it was done. Maybe now you’ll keep your distance.

You did just that. You kept your distance…from everyone. That wasn’t his plan.

You were so confused and heartbroken by Tomas’ actions. You felt like you were being led on this whole time. He was playing with your heart, pulling at the heartstrings before cutting them in one fell swoop. You are left with the remnants of your heart. You tried to put it back together and continue living but it was harder than you could imagine. Everyone could see how you struggled except Tomas.

Hanzo already knew you were in a tough place. He went to check on you the day after he spoke with you, only to hear you crying in your room. He felt in his gut that something bad happened. He’s not good at dealing with other’s emotions, he can’t even control his own, so he walked off. He tried getting your mind off whatever happened by asking you two to train together but that fell flat. He would ask if you could teach him something you’ve been wanting to teach him, only for you to forget what that move was. When you two tried to spar, your arms were in a weak position. It was like you forgot how to fight. Hanzo knew that it was really bad then. He told Kuai Liang about your situation since he could only do so much.

Kuai Liang thought it would be good if Harumi checked in first. It might be a woman issue. One day she came knocking at your door and asking if she could come in. You let out an unenthusiastic ‘sure” and she came in. She thought bringing you some mixed fruits would make you feel better. A fresh bowl of your favorite fruits, how could you say no?

She sat with you and slowly tried to work her way into the issue. She would ask how you’ve been feeling and how training was going. You’d start talking but then just stop. Harumi thought you were trying to think but then you would tell her you forgot what you were about to say. You did the same with the fruit. You would start taking bites then suddenly stop. It’s like you were repulsed by it and would put the half-bitten honeydew back into the bowl. Then a minute later you’d go back to eating. There was certainly a disruption in your mind to be causing these pauses.

Harumi made the mistake of saying something about Tomas. She never knew there was a problem between you two.

“Did you want me to bring Tomas here? I know he makes you feel better.” She gave you a warm smile, thinking that was the right move.

She grew worried once she saw your lips quiver before you bit your bottom lip. You swallowed hard; she could see it was difficult for you to do that. You looked like you were in pain from doing that.

“I’m…feeling tired. I think I should take a nap.”

You didn’t give Harumi time to respond to that. You lay down and curled up. She took the bowl of fruit and said okay. All the progress she made was trashed the moment she talked about Tomas. It did give her an idea that it was him that was troubling you. She said goodbye and to rest well. The moment she closed the door you felt tears slip down your face.

Harumi informed Kuai Liang of everything. Now he believes this is more of a him issue since it’s his brother. He gave you time to nap, or cry actually, and he would talk to you the next day.

The next day rolled around and he saw you wandering around outside. Your movements seemed as sluggish as a zombie’s. You were clearly not okay. He went up to you and walked by your side. He didn’t say anything for a minute, he waited to see if you wanted to speak first. But since you didn’t he would say something.

“I have heard from others that you have not been yourself recently. Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked in a firm but warm tone.

“…no, I’m fine, just tired.”

“Is that so? Are you sure it has nothing to do with Tomas?” he asked bluntly.

You stopped in your tracks. Your body shook as the tears came rolling out. Your loud cries told Kuai Liang how upset you were. He pulled you into a warm embrace in an effort to comfort you. He hears you ask why continuously. There was more that you wanted to say but your tears choked you up. Kuai Liang guided you to a nearby bench to sit on.

He waited for you to calm down so he could ask what the problem was. For a good five minutes, you were unable to say much. You’d cough and stop breathing for a second every time you wanted to say something. You collected yourself eventually and you spilled everything. You talked about Tomas’ distance and how he’s purposely doing it. You saw it with your own eyes and you don’t know what you could have done to deserve this.

Kuai Liang was shocked to hear that his brother was doing all that. He knew how crazy Tomas was about you. He knew he was planning to ask you out eventually. Why would he switch up like this? No one said this grandmaster mess would be easy.

This was a messy situation and he had to organize it. He knew keeping you with the Shirai Ryu would do no good. Having Tomas close by and having people continuously ask you what’s wrong won’t help. He would have to sadly send you away. But he knows a place that will openly accept you.

“I want you to listen to me. I want you to go to the Shaolin at the Wu Shi Academy. They will help with this heartache. I will figure out the problem. But you cannot continue going on in this state. I want you to feel better. Once you are better, you will be with the Shirai Ryu again.”

You listened to Kuai Liang and what he suggested. You knew he wasn’t kicking you out. He only wants you to heal. To heal, you must separate yourself from the situation. The Shaolin will definitely help with that.

You accepted his proposal. He said he would send you off in the morning and told you to pack your essentials. You got up and started packing for your healing journey.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

A few days passed since you went to the Wu Shi. That information stayed between Kuai Liang, Harumi, and Hanzo. Only they knew where you were. Word spreads fast however and soon lots of people realized you were missing. That word got to Tomas. His heart stopped the moment he found out you with MIA. His thoughts were interrupted when Kuai Liang asked to speak with him.

Kuai Liang took him to his office to speak in private. The moment the door closed Tomas was quick to ask if he knew where you were.

“Kuai Liang, I’ve been hearing from others that they haven’t seen-“

“Yes, I know. She is fine. I know where she is.” He responded bluntly.

Tomas let out a sigh of relief knowing that you were still alive. Worry set in again once he saw the disappointed look in Kuai Liang’s eyes.

“The reason I had to send her away,” Kuai Liang hesitated to say the last part, “…was because of you.”

“What?! Me? I know I wanted to distance myself from her but I didn’t mean for her to leave the clan.”

“So you admit that you did it on purpose? What is the matter with you? I thought you loved her. You do not drive people that you love away. So tell me, why did you do it?” Kuai Liang’s harsh tone got to Tomas. It made him feel like the bad guy when all he wanted to do was keep you safe.

He gave in. He told his brother the truth. He explained the dreams about the Enenra and how you always got hurt. He explained how traumatic the last one seemed to him and it was his breaking point. He felt like he would be the cause of your pain or even your death. He could never live with himself if he saw the signs and did nothing about it.

Kuai Liang saw how erratic Tomas was acting. The guilt and fear were eating the man alive. He found Tomas’ actions to be idiotic but he knew he would make a mistake himself if he were in the same situation. If this Enenra issue was truly a cause for concern he would have to fix it immediately. He can’t help his brother but maybe Liu Kang could. He’s a god, why wouldn’t he deal with demons?

“Tomas, you need to fix this, all of this. Go to Liu Kang to see if he can help you. If not, the Wu Shi could definitely do something for you. While you are there, I want you to apologize for what you have done.” He left it at that.

Tomas was a bit confused by the last part but he understood that he needed help for this. He agreed to leave in the morning to see Liu Kang at the Wu Shi Academy. After that, he will make everything right with you. That’s if he can fix your broken heart.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Tomas was at the academy by the next day. He urgently asked to see Liu Kang but the monks informed him that Liu Kang was in Outworld right now. They told him he would return in a few days. They let him know he could stay in a spare room until Liu Kang returned since they could see Tomas was a mess. He was in desperate need of the fire god.

He settled down quickly and thought about finding Kung Lao and Raiden to catch up with them. When he went around looking for them he was surprised to see a familiar face. It was you. You were with Kung Lao and Raiden. You were sparing with Kung Lao who was going easy on you since you were still recovering. What Kuai Liang said before now made sense to Tomas. He needed to apologize to you. He walked up to you which stopped Kung Lao in his tracks. You were confused until you turned around to see the man who broke your heart. Your expression turned sour quickly.

“Hey…” He said softly.

“Hey…I gotta go.” Without letting him speak you walked away from him. It didn’t matter if you weren’t finished with your fight, you needed to leave.

You left Tomas stunned as Kung Lao gave him a disapproving nod. He would be experiencing that until Liu Kang returned.

Tomas wanted to apologize for his actions. He wanted to say he was sorry for hurting you and explain why he did it. He knows his fears are not an excuse, but you still deserve to know the reason. But every attempt was a failure. You treated him like he treated you.

You walked away and acted like you had somewhere to be. You spent your time around Raiden and Kung Lao, almost using them as bodyguards. You would meditate for hours with the other monks to prevent Tomas from disturbing you. You pulled a reverse on him.

Every failure made his heart hurt. He sees that what he did was stupid and did more harm than good. He learned his lesson and he wants to beg you to give him a chance. The guilt inside of him will drive him insane. Even if Liu Kang helps him with his Enenra problem the guilt will stay with him forever. He’s made everything worse by being a fool.

It got to the point that Raiden and Kung Lao had to confront him. Raiden was more passive while Kung Lao was giving him a mean eye. They told him to back off. They said they knew what happened and don’t think it’s a good idea to make amends now. Tomas begged them to help him out. He explained everything and Raiden actually grew concerned about the Enenra problem.

Although they understood, they told him they couldn’t force you to accept an apology right now. They will be easier on him but they won’t force you to do anything. Tomas was still on his own in this situation.

It would still be another day till Liu Kang returned. If Tomas is gonna make it up to you he has to do it now. He had patience and waited for nighttime. You’d be pretty tired by the point so it’d be easier to catch you. The moment he saw you walking into the building you were staying in he followed you.

You didn’t see Tomas once and you thought he took the hint to leave you be. But when you went to close the door to your room it was stopped by someone. You looked back to see Tomas who did not look like the same man you loved before. His eyes were tired like he hadn’t slept for days. There was no sparkle to them. It’s just a void of guilt left behind. For a second you wanted to forget the pain he put you through and hug him. But to deny what happened won’t fix anything. He has to live with the consequences of his actions.

“Please, I know you are mad at me but I want to make this right. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry is not gonna cut it. Just leave me alone already.” You tried pushing the door but he was much stronger than you. He pushed his way in and shut the door behind him.

“I know it won’t but I’ll make it up to you. I never meant to hurt you I swear. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“Safe? From what exactly? You’re not making any sense!”

“I’ll explain everything if you give me a chance! Just please believe me when I say I never meant to harm you.” His voice cracked as he struggled to keep himself together.

Your eyes widened after hearing him speak. His eyes grew wet and soon you heard him take deep, shaky breaths. Tomas ran up to you and hugged you tight. He hugged you as if he were to lose you again. He let out all of his emotions. Tears streamed down his face and droplets fell onto your back.

“I’m…so sorry. You’re the best thing…that’s ever happened to me. I’m an idiot for driving away the woman I love.”

Your arms slowly went up as you decided to hug him back. It was by instinct; your mind was more occupied with what he was saying.

“I just couldn’t imagine finding you dead one day…because of me. I saw it happen so many times I couldn’t take it anymore!”

“Tomas!” You had to yell to get his attention, “You’re still not making any sense. Breathe, we’re gonna figure this out right now.”

You pulled away from him so you could guide him to your bed. You had him lie with you. You waited for him to calm down and gather his thoughts to tell you why he was acting up. Once he did, he explained the whole situation. The nightmares, the Enenra, your death, and the mimic. He told you how scared he would be in his dreams and when he’d wake up. He talked about how he thought it was a bad omen that would eventually happen and it would be his fault for not doing anything.

“Tomas…why didn’t you tell me from the start?”

“I didn’t want to scare you. I was scared myself.” His eyes shifted down as he struggled to look into your eyes after saying that.

You took hold of his head and forced him to look at you, “Even if I was scared, I’d know you would never hurt me. I would have done everything to help you figure out what was wrong. I love you too much to let you go through this alone.”

Your vision blurred as the tears came up again. It’s fine, Tomas has the same blurred vision since he’s about to cry as well. You brought his head closer to yours and gave him a gentle kiss. It was a kiss that told him that everything would be alright and you loved him.

He brought you close to him and held you in his arms. He wanted to have you close after distancing himself for so long. He wanted to smell your scent and have his fingers play with your hair. He wanted you.

Emotions are quite draining. It sure made you two sleepy. The tears died down and the only emotions left were relief and love. You held each other and slowly fell asleep. Your once weakened bond was now strengthened.

That was the first night Tomas had no nightmares.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Morning came and Tomas told you that he had to see Liu Kang immediately. He let you know that he wanted to ask the god for help. You two walked hand in hand to find Liu Kang to sort out this situation.

The fire god was surprised to see you two here. He immediately knew something was wrong when he looked at Tomas’ tired expression. Once again he went over the whole Enenra problem which Liu Kang took seriously. He asked Ashrah for help to deal with this pesky demon. The duo got to work as you stayed by Tomas’ side.

For hours they tried to figure out where this all was coming from. And although there was an Enenra messing with Tomas’ mind, that’s all it did. It could do nothing else to him. It was only there to weaken him into an unhealthy state. It wanted to gain a hold of his physical form. Seeking out Liu Kang was the right decision since the task became unworthy to the demon.

So in the end, the Enenra failed. Those nightmares were purely nightmares.

“See, told you they were just dreams.” You said.

“No need to rub it in.”

Yap notes: So when I first started writing this I was watching As Above, So Below cause I'm a sucker for Dante's Inferno stuff. Tell me why they threw a smoke bomb in the movie. Where do you just casually get one? It was in France so things could be a little unorganized. Also I'm too emotional sometimes. I want to sleep now. Adiós!

[taintedcigs]

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER EIGHT: MADE YOUR MARK ON ME

← prev chapter // next chapter →

✦ summary: in which you and eddie try to navigate the aftermath of the kiss (wc: 5.8k+)

✦ warnings — angst, ANGST, FINALLY SOME DESERVED FLUFF n then angst oops, a little bit of argument but v tiny, uhmmm smut, p in v, unprotected sx (wrap it up irl), lots of praises, kinda rough. body worshipping? idk. eddie and p are an old married couple, drinking, smoking/weed, thats it i think.

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — @andvys my angel thank u for all ur love & help💗🙏🏻 not proof-read i tried but i cant do it. pls ignore all mistakes. i honestly have a love-hate relationship w this chapter BUT ENJOY!!. also like... ily all for all the love on the last chapter omg?

anyway ily all pls interact + like + reblog to support me! i'd also LOVE LOVE to chat about anything abt this series, pls dont hesitate to send me an ask about anything mwah thank you for reading💗

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Minutes.

But it felt like hours. 

And you didn’t want it to be over.

Judging by the hold he had on you, calloused hands grabbing onto your flesh like a man-starved, neither did he. 

This was all he ever wanted. Ever since the day you flagged him over when your car broke down. Even when you were a bitch to him. Even when you rolled your pretty eyes at him. Even when you left him. All he fucking wanted was you.  

Always just out of his grasp, close but never close enough. And this? This was a dream come true. Fucking explosions and butterflies in your stomach type of shit that Eddie always mocked, that you always mocked. 

That scar in his heart that scabbed at the mention of you. Healed. All gone. One kiss from you and it was all back to normal. 

“Eddie!” A booming yell echoed in everyone else’s ears but you.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I swear I’m gonna kill him, Eddie where the fuck are you?” 

Was that… Gareth? 

If Gareth fucking ruined this for him, he was going to hang him by his balls, up on the wall, make sure he could never fucking—

“Eddie!”

And you pulled away, first, Eddie was going to fucking kill him now. A vivid torture method flashed across his mind. Even the adorable flustered look on your face as you drew a breath wasn’t enough to calm him down. 

“I—I think your set is about to-”

“Fuck the set,” Eddie spat, his veins still pumping with the need for you. Brain hazy, he was  never going to get enough of you, was he? A hunger that was never going to be sated. 

The lingering gaze was interrupted by Gareth, scoffing while he dragged Eddie away, ignoring the threats and the cusses that left his lips, the same gentle ones that were just stuck on yours, the sweetest taste, from the filthiest mouth. 

You really needed to shut your goddamn brain up. But how could you? 

His body was turned toward you, shirt stretched out—you did have a tight hold on him. Pale lips now a bit shiny from your candy gloss, stretched into the widest grin, eyes glinting with something you’ve never seen in him before. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

But it was beautiful. He was pretty. Tempting. 

-

You could barely comprehend Eddie’s words when his gaze on you was that striking. “We’re Corroded Coffin, thank you and goodnight.” Slipped past your ears, you didn’t care, you needed him. 

What happens now?

Lingered in your mind, you wanted him to rush to you like you’re in a fucking rom-com, lock your lips in a dizzying kiss, again, you didn’t fucking care. You wanted more. You needed more. 

You could feel the eyes of everyone, including Steve’s impatient nail-biting, dying to know what the fuck happened between the two of you. Yet they didn’t dare to ask you until Jonathan and Nancy had left since the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow. And ever since they were gone, Robin and Steve had been teasing you nonstop, trying to make you crack.

Clearly, something had gone down, and the co-dependent idiots had to know. 

“He looks like he’s going to eat you.” Steve hummed, making you roll your eyes at him.

You were about to give him a smart-ass answer, but of course, he didn’t let you. “I bet if I laid one hand on you, he’d end up here in seconds.” Steve barked out a laugh, Robin joining him as you threw them a dead-set glare.

“It’s not like that—we haven’t—he won’t.” Your frustration was interrupted by a grinning Steve.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve teased, his hand quick to brush away the strand of hair away from your face, fingertips gently brushing against your cheeks, making heat flutter to your cheeks.

“Steve!” you protested, your gaze widening as you chided him, while Robin playfully counted down from ten by your other side.

Steve ignored your protests, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into a side hug. You attempted to push him off with a scoff, but he was relentless. 

“Three… Two…” Robin's counting came to a halt, and your childish squabble with Steve ceased as a deep voice interrupted.

“Mind if I borrow her for a bit?” The metalhead’s gravelly voice cut through the air, his gaze shooting daggers at Steve, who only smirked, much to Eddie's obvious dismay.

“Eight seconds,” Steve murmured in your ear, you could almost feel his stupid smirk forming on your ear shell, prompting a huff from you.

“She’s all yours, man,” Steve chuckled, releasing his hold and retreating with Robin, leaving the two of you alone. Eddie scoffed at Steve's retreating figure before turning his attention to you. 

“What’s their damage?” His brows scrunched together as he watched Steve and Robin walk away, engrossed in their hushed gossip. 

“Do you have all day?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, earning a chuckle from him.

He liked this, he loved this, he missed this. Easy banter, shared laughter. 

“So… you goin’ home?” Eddie asked, nonchalant, like his heart wasn’t thumping in his chest each time you stole a glance at him.

You nodded, keeping it simple, almost avoiding his gaze. His exaggerated reaction, a spat-out “What?” made you giggle. A melody he could never have enough of.

“Well, the night’s almost over, so…”

“Come with me,” He muttered, amber gaze like silk as it connected with yours.

“Where?” 

“Mi casa es yours or whatever the saying goes.” He grinned.

With a huff, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you muttered.

“Why?”

“You know why.” You enunciated.

He raised a brow, “Enlighten me.”

“I—It’s late.”  

“So? That never stopped us before.” He shrugged, seemingly unfazed.

“Oh, c’mon Pinky,” he coaxed, “we never end nights this early, at least not until we’re a couple more joints in, smushed on the couch, putting on some old horror movie… I thought we were revisiting the past.” He hummed, puppy dog eyes staring at your soul. Shit. 

You shouldn’t. You fucking shouldn’t.

“Are you really gonna say no to gettin’ high with me, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart.

A nickname you had heard so many times before. Yet, it was different, the way it rolled off his lips making you almost jump in place.

“Okay,” you gulped, physically. Fuck.

He grinned, taking you by hand, fuck all, while you waved a shy goodbye to Robin and Steve, who watched it all with an all-knowing grin.

“Pay up,” Steve turned to Robin with his palm in front of her.

Robin snorted, “No fucking way.”

“Trust the process, Robin. Trust the fucking process.” Steve huffed, watching the two of you leave hand-in-hand.

-

As the two of you entered the familiar house, the sight of it brought enough memories that made you feel light-headed, a repository of memories flooded in your mind. 

“Is Wayne around?” you inquired, breaking the silence that clung to the space. Eddie, leading the way, answered nonchalantly, “Nah. At his girlfriend’s.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait what? Wayne has a girlfriend?” You exclaimed.

“Uh-huh, Hannah.” 

“Oh! That’s great!” 

“Yeah, he’s having sleepovers with her like a fucking teenager, I told him to ask her to move in, but he’s too chicken shit,” he scoffed. 

“Oh, come on.” You elbowed him playfully, “Be nice to him, he deserves this,” you said with a smile.

He nodded in agreement, “He does.” Then turned to you. “You want anything to drink?” You shook your head. 

You didn’t know why, and you didn’t know how, but a shyness appeared within you, propping up your elbows as you leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him intently. 

With a shrug, he opened the fridge, taking out a Schlitz, gaze on you dangerous when he popped it open with his teeth, barking a chuckle when you squirmed at the sudden, sharp sound. 

“Fidgety much?” He grinned, that damn dimple taking its place on the corner of his mouth, making all sorts of warmth flush to your cheeks, making you feel so timid under his gaze. 

You could sense the cockiness radiating off of him, it was addicting, and it was making you feel more and more shy under him. Because both of you knew why you were here, at two fucking A.M., dismissing everyone else, flirting and bickering all the way home. 

Yet, since you entered the familiar trailer, you had been silent. Because you knew, you fucking knew that kiss changed everything. But this would seal it. Another step forward. A territory the two of you had never crossed before. 

And your mind was not being kind to you, screaming at you to stop, to run, to not fucking do this, because you’d end up hurt, because someway somehow he’d end up hurting too, but Eddie wasn’t having any of it. 

Your silence made him cockier and cockier, drawing you in more and more. And if he kept it up, you knew even your idiotic abandonment issues wouldn’t be enough to stop you from jumping on him. 

You wanted this, all your mind could replay was his fingers on that damn guitar, the way his mouth popped open that damn can of beer, the way his stupid plushy lips curled into a smirk. Shaggy bangs fell onto his forehead when he leaned on the counter, arms flexing with it. 

Stop fucking thinking about it.

“You gonna answer me or what, sweetheart?”

“Huh?”

“Jesus, you okay?” He asked, concerned, cornering you in the kitchen with his soft hazel eyes. 

Fuck. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed.

“You don’t seem okay.”

“‘M f-fine!” You answered too quickly and meekly for that to be the truth. 

“Don’t tell me you’re still mad at me.”

Yes. No. Yes. No. I think I crave you more than I’m mad at you, but I can’t let you know that, your thoughts swirled. 

“I thought—”

You interrupted all quippily, “Thought what? That kissing me would suddenly undo everything?”

“No…” He sighed, “I thought I proved myself to you.”

“You did, but that doesn’t undo it.” 

“Well, I forgave you.”

You scoffed. “You know forgiving me doesn’t mean shit if you bring it up every time I tell you  you did something wrong, right?”

Crossing his arms against his chest, “Can you blame me?” He muttered, almost defeated. 

“What would you do? If I up and left, would you just forgive me? Would you just trust me and act like it was all okay?” He tensed, words spilling out of his mouth like venom. 

And you narrowed your gaze, returning it back to him. “What would you do if I kissed Jason? I asked you that, yet you never answered. Would you still kiss me? Would you still write notes for me, knowing that Jason’s slimy lips were brushing—“

He was quick to wave his hands in front of your face, grimacing just at the thought. “Stop! Just fucking stop!”

“What, too much for you?” You spat.

“Of course, it’s too much for me! T—the thought of him, anyone, being with you… makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Good, then I think we’re even!” You suggested.

“Even?” He scoffed,  “Is that all you fuckin’ care about?” He retorted, making you huff, once again.

“God, no! I just—I just mean we both did fucked up shit and from this point on we either move on, or we never talk to each other again, which we can’t seem to do!” You snapped, that anger from before had disappeared though, the kiss had softened things. Softened you. 

“Okay, then let’s just move on!” He took a step toward you, getting close again. So fucking close. 

You took a step back, your back hitting the marble counter, yet you remained on your angry stance. “Fine by me!” You retorted, all hastily. 

“That’s fine by me too!” He agreed, towering over you, trying to one-up you. 

“Good!” And, of fucking course you returned the energy. Stubbornness is exactly what defined the two of you, babbling like a bunch of kids over nothing. 

Eddie didn’t hesitate to take another step toward you, this time, both his hands on the marble kitchen counter, fully cornering you, as he grinned. “Great!” 

And you were about to answer, about to one-up him, like he did with you… but then you looked at him, really looked at him.

Looked at how fucking close he was to you, and you shuddered a deep breath, getting caught up in your throat when it reminded you of the kiss.

And that’s when Eddie realized it. 

You weren’t really mad at him. 

At least not really, not since the kiss.

You were nervous… because he was standing this close to you. 

A piece of dangerous information for Eddie—someone who had been in love with you since you were teens, to acquire, because it’d turn him into an arrogant fuck in a matter of seconds—even more so than he ever was.

“Oh.” The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, he was grinning like a devil now. 

“What?” You furrowed your brows, trying to have that annoyed stance from before, but it wasn’t working. 

“Why are you looking at me like—”

He was quick to interrupt, face inches away from yours. “You’re not mad, at least not that much, you’re… nervous.” He grinned.

“N—nervous? Why would I be nervous?”

“Because of me.” That stupid smirk on his lips returned

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“What happened to that Pinky who refused to talk to me today? Who told me we couldn’t do this? Did one kiss soften you up this much?” He quipped, making you scoff.

“You know what? You’re an asshole.” You sneered.

“There she is.”

“When did you become this cocky, Munson?” You narrowed your gaze.

“I was always an arrogant fuck, sweetheart. But I’d say the kiss helped, like a fuck ton, and you squirming now, too.” He shrugged, like what he just said was no big deal, like how close he was to you didn’t make you gulp nervously.

You almost gasped, offended, like it wasn’t the truth. “I’m not fucking squirming—”

“Look at you… shuddering a breath just because I’m this close to you.” He barked out a chuckle, gaze dangerous, dare you say… lustful.

“Fuck you,” You spat, feeling small under his bashful gaze, cheeks heating.

“Well, I’m trying sweetheart,” He was quick, you had to give him that, making heat grow everywhere in your body, but especially within your thighs now, fuck, he was smooth.

And you weren’t willing to put up a fight, or a front, you wanted—needed him. You couldn’t deny yourself him any longer, not even your commitment issues were enough to hold you off. 

“You’re s—such a little shit,” You stuttered, embarrassingly so. 

God, you wanted to wipe his smirk off by kissing him, you wanted to feel his honey-flavored lips on yours again, you wanted to feel his lips twitch against yours instead of the air.

And he was close again, all in your face, all you had to do was lean a little bit and his lips would be on yours.

“And you’re an absolute pain in my—” 

Fuck it. 

You fisted his stupid shirt, crashing your lips down to his, dizzying, just as magnetic as before, but needier. His lips still tasted the sweetest, yet mixed with the bitter taste of the beer on his tongue made you grow weak in the knees. 

You were about to open your mouth fully, to feel his greedy tongue on yours, but much to your surprise, Eddie pulled away, making you whine.

“Wait—” He faltered.

“What?”

“Do you want this?” He asked

“Yes!” Your voice raised an octave.

“Tell me you want this.” His gaze was serious.

“I do,” you breathed.

He scoffed. “No, I wanna hear you say it.”

“Eddie—” 

“I wanna hear you, or we can just pretend like none of it happened, I can forget the kiss we can just sit around here and—” 

I want to know if you’re in this as much as I am, is what he meant.

“Jesus you’re so fucking—” You scoffed, but he actually backed away, your eyes widening at him.

“W—wait!” You pleaded.

An awaiting grin sat on his lips and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Of course I want this, Eddie. I’ve wanted you for five fucking years, I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you—okay wait maybe that’s a lie because you really were annoying the first time we met but I wanted, no, I want you—”

His mouth crashed against yours, interrupting you in the best fucking way. His lips felt warm, hot almost. Skin burning everywhere where he touched you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

“So eager, princess, already begging for me, hmm?” He taunted, making you roll your eyes in an instant. 

“Just shut up you, asshole.” He grinned, mouth crashing down on yours once again. Much more gentle this time, but rough enough to have your chests pressed together. 

His lips only left yours to be reattached to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses from your chin to your cheekbone. “‘M sorry, sweetheart, I just can help myself you’re so—” He mumbled, voice muffled by your skin. 

He lifted you up, strong hands meeting behind your waist in one harsh move, making you yelp before you wrapped your legs around him, he kissed you like he never had before, all teeth, and no mercy, passionate yet still gentle in somefucking way. 

He pivoted while trying to get to his bedroom, making you chuckle into the kiss, pining you against the wall, and it was all so desperate and messy. And just so you. 

You wanted to discard your dress but he wanted to rip it off, wanted to grab onto your flesh, and feel you, completely. Drink you in. 

He stumbled inside his room, knocking over a few boxes, and sending them over to the other side of his room. Not that either of you cared enough to break the kiss, at least until Eddie plopped you down on the bed, a grin overtaking his lips at the sight of you. 

“You’re so pretty, so fucking beautiful and just—” He took a deep breath, words were failing him, his entire being captivated by you. 

His mind was spiraling, cheeks almost a salmon pink. Eddie had sex countless times before, but none of them meant anything. None of them left him this speechless, none of them made him nervous. It was like his first time, the way his breath got caught in his throat, cock stirring at how pretty you looked, stomach fluttering at how he was on top of you. 

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do this. How long I’ve wanted you… How perfect you really are.” He towered above you, and your breaths mingled, bodies tied, chests pressed against one another. 

You wanted to joke around and tease him like he did with you, but you couldn’t help the flutters in your stomach. All you cared about was whether he thought if all of that was. Did he really see you like that?

“You mean that?” You asked, almost shy, wanting to hide your face, but he just gave you a scoff, like it was the most unbelievable thing ever.

It was to him. 

“‘Course I do, Jesus, Pinky I basically worshipped—” He placed a soft kiss on your lips. “The ground you walked on.”

You drew in a breath, “I—I wanted you just as much.”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned. 

“Don’t say things like that,” he warned, shaking his head. Did you not know the hold you had on him? Even still? He was wrapped around your finger, always has been. Always would be. 

“Don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.” 

“Then, don’t, please, Eddie, I want you, more than anything.” 

That was all he needed, low grunts escaped his lips. He attacked your lips hungrily, desperately, twirling his tongue with yours, needy and passionate. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed, hands meeting behind your back to unclasp your dress, and you helped him get rid of his clothes, your fingers fiddling as they struggled to take his shirt over his head. 

It was all messy, stupidly impatient, making both of you giggle while you struggled to get rid of the clothes that were keeping both of your bodies away from each other. 

“So impatient,” you mocked with a chuckle, enjoying the way his eyes boggled your body, it wasn’t disrespectful, you didn’t feel the intrusion as you did with every other fucking guy you’ve been with. Just pure appreciation and your stomach flipped with excitement. 

Fuck, what was he doing to you? 

He drew in a breath when your chest rose up and down, he felt like he was watching a ping-pong match, eyes darting over to every part of your body, he wanted to engrave it in his mind. Have you there forever. 

He could barely comprehend it, you, stark naked, on his bed. Telling him you wanted him, more than anything. And you looked perfect. Fucking perfect. More than he could ever imagine. All those years he spent thinking about you. 

The girls he fucked were always a spitting image of you. It wasn’t a fucking coincidence. He couldn’t get his mind off of you. You made him feel out of his head, and fucking finally, it was happening. 

Cold rings ghosted over your chest, making you gasp. “So—” His head dove into your breasts, latching his tongue on one nipple. “Fucking—” His hand dove down to your panties, discarding them without care before he ghosted over your slit, still waiting for some approval from you. “Perfect—” He hummed, against your nipples, making you mewl. 

“P—please, Eddie,” you muttered, pathetically. 

His eyes shot up at you, amber gaze dark, wanting, needing you to tell him exactly what you needed. “Need you to fuck me, please.”

“Baby,” he rasped, jaw almost hung open with how forward you were being. His cock was trapped in his boxers, needing room with the way words fell like silk from your lips. The nicknames were new, especially something like ‘baby’ but it felt so familiar, like the two of you had always been like this. Like the last five years didn’t exist.

This was all the confirmation he needed, his ringed finger met your entrance, and you whimpered at the slight sensation, your entire body burned with need at his one touch. 

His soft lips trailed down from your chest to your belly button, tongue leaving nice strokes on his way to your pussy, making you arch your back in desperation. 

“Need more, Eddie,” you whined, a pout apparent on your cheeks.

“That desperate, huh?” He grinned, pad of his thumb still toying with your clit, earning gasps out of you. “Haven’t even done much, yet you’re soakin’ my fingers, baby,” he added, that taunting tone making you roll your eyes.

“Arrogant fuck,” your voice came out as a squeak, making him let out a greedy chuckle. 

He inserted a finger inside of you, enjoying the gasps he earned. “You know, I always thought that attitude of yours needed a fix?” He hissed, ringed finger curling inside of you, making you squirm at the coldness as you bucked your hips for more. 

You didn’t know what took over you, or him. The dirty talk just rolled out of your lips like it was natural like the two of you had been together for the longest time. 

It was all the pining, anticipation, and the pent-up desire. And it was making both of you needier by the second. 

“Then do it, fuck it out of me.” A low groan echoed in the bedroom, followed by a string of curses, Eddie’s entire body shuddering with it. 

His fingers left your clit, hands working their way to slip out of his boxers, a rough expulsion of moan released from his lips when his cock plopped against his stomach, making your mouth water at the sight. 

Shit, fuck, shit. 

You gulped, jaw almost wide open, making him cockier if that was even possible. His hands jerked at his cock, collecting the bead of pre-cum collected at his hot tip. “Gonna give this to you, is that what you want, sweetheart?” He taunted.

With a nod, you licked your lips, making his cock twitch in his hands. “I’ll fuck the brat out of you, don’t worry, honey.” His hand was about to stroke his cock again, but you were quick to shake your head. 

“Let me help,” you hummed, your smile and attitude all disappearing, a glazed look washed over your features as your soft hands fisted his length. 

“You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he groaned roughly when your fingers stroked his rock-hard cock, until he couldn’t take it anymore and pushed you down on the bed and taking you by surprise before his lips re-attached to yours, hands slightly parted your thighs, teeth clashed together, and nibbling on each other's lips, before he finally, finally guided his cock against your entrance. 

Then, he stopped, making you furrow your brows when he reached for his bedside table, and you, unable to wait, were quick to stop him. “No!” His attention snapped back to you. 

“Please… I wanna feel you, ‘m on the pill,” you murmured, pupils blown wide, making Eddie curse once again before he blabbed, nervousness spilling out of him. 

“O—okay,” He hummed, turning to you with a nervous look, “and just so you know I haven’t had—” Shit, he was going to ruin this. 

“I was tested not too long ago and me and Chr—”

“If you finish that sentence I swear to god, I will leave, Munson,” you warned, gaze narrowed and jealousy bitter in your veins. 

He scoffed, “I was going to say we haven’t done a—anything, you lunatic,” he wanted to joke, but words rolled out of his lips like a quick ramble. He couldn’t fucking ruin this. But, he had to let you know. You had to know that they didn’t sleep together.

And much to his surprise, with a grin on your lips, “Oh? I don’t know if I can say the same with me and Jame—” your joke was quickly shut up by a dizzying kiss, and his groan turned into a growl, filled with jealousy, making you giggle into the kiss.

Both of you were idiots. Total fucking idiots. Insane. Crazy. But, fuck, did it feel right, like dominos falling into place, this is what it should’ve been. 

He dragged you more toward the edge of the bed with his rough hands, finally guiding his cock to your entrance, wiping off that grin from your face, hunger taking over fully. 

“You think you’re funny?” He spat, and you nodded all sassily, “Laugh it up, doll. But once I’m done with you, you won’t even remember the names of those other douchebags, I’ll fuckin’ make sure of it.” His arrogance was back, and that smirk played on his lips, shutting you up once again. 

He pushed into you without a warning, making you cry out while your eyes squeezed shut at how good he felt. Your pussy wrapped his cock nicely, so warm and tight that Eddie had no fucking idea how he didn’t cum right then and there on the spot, a low groan escaped his lips. 

He dropped his head to your shoulder, frantic breathing escaped through his nose as he tried to adjust to how tight you were. 

Jesus, fucking Christ. 

He had to hold himself off. 

Your hands clawed at his back, enjoying the stretch while Eddie pushed himself inside of you at a slow pace, reveling in the way you mewled for him. 

Eyes already squeezed shut, mouth slightly open, lashes fluttering the more he drove his cock into you. You looked so beautiful. Ethereal. 

He was struggling to comprehend if this was all real. This entire fucking night. From the fight to the kiss to now. 

It was always back and forth between the two of you, but more real than anything he ever had. 

Pinky. 

His Pinky. 

He loved you, so so much, that his heart was about to explode, his body felt hot from everywhere you were touching him. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart,” he hissed, pace picking up once you finally accommodated his size, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“Feels s—so good, Eds,” you whimpered. He caught your chin in his hands, tilting your face toward him, making your fuzzy gaze focus on him. “I’ve wanted this for so long. You, wanted you for so long, shit, honey.” 

“Tell me…” He muttered, licking the trail to your boobs, sucking on it with a growl. “Tell me that this changes everything. Tell me that we’ll never go back, and I’ll fuck you like you deserve it.” 

“E—Eddie,” you stuttered, still struggling to comprehend it when his cock was hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t know existed. 

“I…” You sucked in a deep breath, mind feeling mushy before Eddie groaned, tucking his hips back, pulling out of your warm pussy as you gasped at the feeling, just as you were about to whine, beg, he rammed himself deep inside of you, again. A grin appeared on his lips when you cried out in pleasure. 

Yet, his movements halted, as if he was giving you a taste of what might happen, and you wanted to cuss him out, tell him to never fucking stop again, cry out, beg for him to continue. Your body felt woozy with how much you needed him to fuck you, how much you desperately needed to cum. 

“Everything!” You cried out frantically, “E—Eddie, fuck, I d—don’t ever wanna go back, please…”

That was all he needed to hear. And he simply couldn’t wait any longer, deprive his body of you any fucking longer. His movements picked up with a low grunt, fucking into you roughly and fast, all animalistic as he held onto your hips, leaving bruises all over while he worked on your neck, sucking, marking you. 

Pleasure bursted through your body as Eddie’s thick cock dragged along your walls. Both of your eyes locked, emotions gathering in them. Panting as your foreheads connected, thinking the same thing. 

Those three little words begged to roll out of both of your plushy lips, yet too scared to ever utter them. His lips crashed down on you again, this time, just so that those three words didn’t escape his mouth, kissing you with such passion that your head grew light. 

“Pretty girl,” he breathed into your neck, “my pretty girl,” he growled. His cock was driven by a primal need to make you his, every touch meant something, every time he thrust himself into you, it was deliberate, rough, but gentle in some fucking way. 

Shallow breaths escaped your mouths in puffs, as you watched him drive his cock all the way into you, and you tightened up almost immediately, your pussy pulsing around him.

He groaned at the sight of you, mouth hung open, tits bouncing up and down, mewls coming out for him. You looked fucking beautiful, babbling to him about how you were going to cum soon. 

He pressed his middle finger to your clit, drawing quick circles as you whined for him, he was fucking good, and you could feel your walls swelling as you yelled out his name. 

Your screams were muffled by Eddie’s lips as a wave of pleasure hit you like a ton of bricks and the second you came undone on his cock, he fucking lost it. His groans grew guttural as he spilled his load inside of you, falling on top of you with a contented sigh as he made sure every drop of him was stuffed into your walls. 

Ragged breaths filled the room as Eddie slumped next to you, and you stared at the walls, a smile curved on your lips when the drawings you gave him were still there.

“You still have that?” 

“Of course.” His fingertips traced a delicate path along the canvas of your skin, gentle, and warm, pulling away that strand of hair that was hiding your pretty features, a smile formed on his lips, his gaze on you so soft that you almost melted into him. “I told you… your art matters, it’s the very reason, I am where I am.” 

As his words hung in the air, you looked up at him, and he gazed down at you. In that shared gaze, both of you knew. No words were exchanged, yet the depth of your connection bridged any gap.

Three words. Eight letters. 

You should say it, you should tell him first. Let him know, that you love him, always have, always will. Your lips, poised in anticipation, hovered let him now, to utter those words.

But he interrupted, a subtle pull drawing you closer into the cocoon of his embrace. “W—We should go to sleep… hell of a day ahead of us.” He cleared his throat, fingertips weaved through the strands of your hair, caressing it.

A day ahead of us. Us. Us. Us.

It’s promising, so fucking promising. Peaceful. Everything you asked for. Yet, it scared you, because it was good. All of it was almost too good to be true. 

But you wanted to shut that part of your brain off. No, because you weren’t going to ruin this for yourself again, you weren’t. 

You hummed into his chest agreeingly, the vibrations resonating into his chest, his scent enveloped you, fully, completely. 

And each gentle stroke of his fingertips through your hair was like a lullaby, making you give yourself into the security of his presence. It only took a handful of caresses for you to give into the sweet desire of sleep, nestled against his warmth.

-

You woke up next to a void spot in the bed. The morning sun burst through the lazily taped windows of Eddie's room, forcing you to squint against its intrusive rays.

A languid groan escaped your lips as you reluctantly left the warmth of the bed, lazily throwing on one of Eddie’s shirts as it hung well over your knees, making your way to the kitchen as you called out for him.

Silence greeted you.

You checked the fridge, hoping for a note, a hastily scribbled message, anything that might explain why he was gone. 

But nothing. 

At this point, your mind hadn't erupted into full-blown panic; there was no reason for it, or let your intrusive thoughts kick in, no, they were wrong, they had to be wrong. 

There was no way he’d leave you, he wanted this himself. He invited you over. 

And the two of you were supposed to go to the rehearsal dinner early. To help Jonathan and Nancy out. There was no way he’d just leave you like this.

Right?

Or maybe he regretted all of it and left in a panic.

You kept telling yourself the same lie until seconds melted into minutes, and eventually into hours.

And then, it finally dawned on you. 

Eddie didn’t leave a note because he didn’t want to see you.

He regretted everything.

That's why he left you.

[sorchathered]

Break my heart again 🖤

Pairing- Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader

Warnings- language, angst, Jake being an idiot, Bradley being a douchebag

Summary- Jake broke your heart and regrets it more than he can say, what happens when he sees you again but you’ve moved on? Or have you?

Jake Seresin could be a real son of a bitch. He knew it, everyone around him knew it, and after he broke your heart that rainy September night you knew it too. It played out like a bad romcom, “it’s not you it’s me, I’m just not ready to commit” all the pathetic vague bullshit that really just meant that he wanted to be able to be single and hang out with the boys instead of being “tied down” to you. It hurt, especially when it felt like it came out of nowhere. You had been thinking of forever, and apparently he’d been looking for an escape route. So you did what any heartbroken girl would do, got a new look, drank too much with the girls and blocked him from every social media you could.

That was nearly 4 years and two duty stations ago, all of Jake’s drinking buddies had grown up and had families, and now he was on the outside looking in a very different window. Longing for something he should have held on to, knowing it was too little too late.

He’d been back in California for almost a month, the special detachment had become permanent and it looked like the Dagger Squad was here to stay. He was in his own head while everyone headed out for the day, Coyote finally breaking him from his trance with his suggestion to meet everyone at the Hard Deck for dinner and drinks, a couple of the guys' families had made the move to Miramar and it would be a full house. Jake agreed, still in a fog but at least pretending to be interested in the prospect of meeting everyone.

Every night at the bar seemed to go the same these days, he’d drink a few beers, beat the brakes off everyone in darts, and take some pretty girl home only to kick her out in the morning. It was getting sad if he was honest, he hadn’t planned to be nearly 35 and alone, he figured he’d have a wife and at least a kid by now, he was tired of feeling sorry for himself. He needed to stop this endless cycle of bachelorhood, something had to change. He grabbed his beer from Penny and made his way to the pool tables, jolted from his pity party by the sound of the prettiest laugh he’d ever heard. He knew that laugh, hell it had haunted him for far too long. His eyes scanned the area, frantically searching for the face it belonged to, when there you were. Long hair in loose waves down your back, in a red sundress that could make a supermodel jealous, and your arms wrapped around none other than Bradley Bradshaw himself.

It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room, it was too hot and too loud, Jake felt like his skin was suddenly too tight for his body and he couldn’t seem to school his face to at least look normal. Javy’s wife Britt caught on that something was off, Jake was standing at the entrance of the pool area with his eyes wide and mouth gaping, so she kicked her husbands foot and ushered him to figure out what had his friend so shaken up.

But when he looked at Jake’s field of vision he knew, Bradshaw’s girl had looked familiar when they’d walked in but he couldn’t place her until now. He’d known you were Jake’s biggest regret, and he imagined seeing you in the arms of his biggest rival, probably stung like a bitch. He calmly made his way over, grasping his friend by the elbow and pivoting him towards the side exit, the night air would help, and maybe he could get him to spill his guts in the process.

Fuck this was a nightmare, he’d been thinking of you more and more lately these days, and seeing you in Rooster’s arms was enough to make him nearly throw up the contents of his stomach. He’d never felt this unsure of himself in his life and this was the final nail in the coffin. Coyote was worried, Hangman was never off his game, always the most cocksure bastard you’d ever met whether it be in the air or on the ground but this version of him was someone he’d never seen.

“Man come on, you gotta level with me. Was that y/n back there? I know that’s a sucker punch Seresin but you can’t let this drown you, it’s been what? Almost 4 years? You can’t seriously still be hung up on this” he shook his head in disbelief, his best friend had a wild reputation as a Casanova but somehow 30 seconds around this one girl had knocked him to his knees.

“She was everything. Everything you could hope for if you wanted to start a real lasting relationship and I tanked it before we even had a chance. I wanted to fuck around and sow my oats, what the fuck did that even do for me?! I’ve got nothing at home to keep my going, no one to miss me when I’m gone, and now she’s with fucking Bradshaw? Jesus. I don’t know if I can do this tonight man, I think I’m just gonna head out.” He smacks Javy on the arm and heads out to the lot, hating the sympathetic look he knows he’s getting from his friend.

Back in the bar everyone has noticed Jake’s abrupt exit, especially you. Leaning in to press his lips to your ear Bradley says “Well that took less time than I thought, you sure have got him twisted up honey.” He’s grinning, the little shit stirrer, and while you had expected more of a reaction you knew you were in for it when Jake finally got his head on straight.

You’d met Rooster in Japan, working as a medic while he was on a rotation around six months before. It had been a fun friends with benefits situation, no strings and while you couldn’t deny that the sex was phenomenal you were still in the mindset of settling down. Bradley knew that and had told you whenever you were ready to cut things off he’d respect it, you were a good friend and great company but he wasn’t marriage material and he knew it. So when he’d headed back to California and found out that not only was Hangman there, but that you were still hung up on him he had a golden opportunity. Fuck with Jake a little, and maybe get you your happily ever after, it made perfect sense to him even if you thought he was crazy for suggesting it. You couldn’t deny that it was working, Jake had been rattled and ran for the hills, maybe Rooster’s plan wasn’t so half brained after all.

Bradley made it his mission to irritate Jake as much as possible the following week, making sure to let everyone in his radius know he was taking lunch to his girlfriend, loudly answering your phone calls, even dropping flowers off at your office one day. It was maddening, Jake felt like he’d been deflated, he couldn’t even bring himself to string together a sentence when you were around not to mention how much you being around was affecting his ego.

He still hadn’t spoken to you since you saw him at the hard deck, you were so frustrated, you’d really thought he’d come show his ass and the two of you would have it out but it was almost like he didn’t even care you were here. You were so in your head as you headed for the elevator that you ran smack into a warm wall of muscle, dropping your files and your bag. “Oh shit I’m so sorry, I wasn’t even looking are you o-“ you cut off as you looked right into the pretty green eyes of your ex.

“Hey, yeah I’m ok, you alright? Here let me help you” he made quick work of gathering your stuff, accidentally brushing your hand as he handed you one of the files. You knew he felt it too by the sharp intake of breath, just being around each other was enough to bring it all back, it made you want to climb him like a tree and beg him to take you back. You were far too stubborn for that so you stepped away from him like his touch had set you on fire, for someone so uninterested in your presence he certainly looked offended by the action, brows creased with that pesky forehead vein poking out that you always used to pick on him for.

This was awkward, you’re not his anymore but being this close to you may drive him insane. Your perfume is the same, your hair is a little lighter but it suited you, and you looked so damn beautiful, just like you always had. He needed to say something, just staring at you was going to freak you out but he couldn’t find the words. Jesus when did he get so weird?! He muttered out a “see you later” and started to head back down the hall, but you grabbed his hand at the last second, yanking him back towards you.

“Ok what gives?! You’ve been so weird since I got here, I know things ended badly with us but you left me remember?”

“Oh trust me sweets, I remember. Biggest fucking mistake of my life.”

“I’m sorry…what?” He had to be fucking with you, this wasn’t what you expected at all.

“I did leave, and it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. Fuck y/n I think it about it every damn day, I was stupid and thought I wanted to party my life away, all it left me with was a broken heart and an empty house. I know you’re with Bradshaw now so we shouldn’t even be talking like this-“

“I’m not with Bradley.” You blurted out. “I mean we dated for a little while but he knew how much you hurt me and couldn’t help himself. He certainly knows how to get under your skin.”

“Yeah well, I probably deserve it.” He said as he ran his hand over his face.

“You do” you said with a grin, but noticed he hadn’t let go of your hand.

“So you’re saying that you’re single then?” He said with his smug grin, all it took was knowing he had a chance to bring back the Hangman persona, you shook your head with a laugh, he was already reeling you in. “Yeah, yeah it looks like. Who’s asking?” He chuckled as he pulled you closer, hooking a finger under your chin.

“I am baby, and if I have it my way you won’t be for long.”

Stubbornness be damned, you’d had your fun and now all you wanted was to give in to whatever was causing the butterflies in your stomach, so you let him kiss you. Hot, heavy and definitely indecent considering the environment, you basked in what it felt like to have his lips on yours again. He pulled a way a little, reveling in the way you tried to chase his lips; maybe he had affected you more than you’d let on too. One thing was for sure, he wouldn’t break your heart again, he was already dreaming up ideas of forever, it finally seemed like you both were on the same page.

🏷️ Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @attapullman @roosterforme @bradshawssugarbaby @bobgasm @sailor-aviator @goldenseresinretriever @sarahsmi13s @hangmansgbaby @sebsxphia @mynameismckenziemae